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Up north the Iraqi’s have to play our game, here we have to play theirs. It really gets under my skin. But not as much as the chicken shit gets under my skin! Goddamn it, we’re staring down the fourth largest army in the world and the powers that be are worried about dust inside our hajs and scuffs on our boots, we’re in the middle of the Goddamn desert! When this is all over, and my hitch is up, I’m out. I can’t wait to wear civilian clothes again. Sorry about bitching, but this place is tough enough without having to deal with brass’ caca.
To answer your question, here’s what this Sergeant's thinks of this lesbian afterbirth of a clusterfuck called desert shield: The 101st is part of the larger 18th airborne corps, ABC for short. The 82nd Airborne, the 24th Mech. and 3rd ACR (Calvary regiment) complete the 18th ABC. The jar-headed marines and whatever other Arabs are in country make up the rest of the covering force. ABC still provides the bulk of ground coverage, and there is a lot of Saudi Real Estate to cover. The one oh one sits out front of corps, our job is to slow the Iraqi’s down and contour the battlefield - funnel him into a killing zone made up of the rest of 18 ABC. In other words, get him to fight by our rules. Shitty job, but someone has to do it. Why is the 101st out front? Good question when you consider the Iraqi’s are tank heavy and the 101st doesn’t own a single one. The answer is mobility and firepower; no one else has anything close. Our mobility is a force multiplier. We can get from Point A to Point B so fast that we appear a lot larger than what we are. We’re anti-tank latent – we have so many anti-tank weapons it’s silly. And that’s not including the Apaches. I’ve seen what an Apache is capable of doing. I wouldn’t want to be on the wrong side of that bird. In a scary way, it is awesome. I’d take 10 Apaches over 100 tanks any day.
If a lowly Sergeant knows this, Saddam has got to know something to this effect. That’s why I think he’s not going to come into Saudi. He knows he’ll have to pay. Knowing this, I can hear my old man’s voice in my head over and over again, prepare for the worst, hope for the best. It took coming half way ‘round the world to realize that he’s not as dumb as I thought. Go figure! Maybe if I believed him back in the day I’d be sweating my ass off digging graves instead of sweating it off over here.
Tell everyone I said Hi.

Count


Shannie, October 28th, 1990

You’re a saint and you don’t even know it. Beings that were up north, you couldn’t imagine how good it feels to see a letter post-marked Beyford, PA. The simple things that remind me of home, if I press my nose against the envelope, I swear I can smell burning leaves. If I close my eyes, I can see the wind blowing them across Fernwood. God how I miss home, especially this time of year, fall was always my favorite. Sometimes late at night I can hear Mr. Ralston’s ratty voice announce another first and ten for Beyford’s Iron men.
I think it’s a fucking laugh to hear that my old man is pitching a shit fit over Schwarzkopf. He really did take a liking to Morrison’s nicknaming him Bear. Now Schwarzkopf comes along and steals the old man’s thunder, serves that gravedigger right. If he had stuck it out in the army, maybe he’d be the ‘other bear’s’ boss.
Some crazy shit went down a couple of nights back. We had a drive by shooting, makes me wonder if we’re in Saudi or L.A. Rumors say it was a bunch of Iraqi terrorists. Others say it’s Saudi nationals pissed off by our presence. In a weird way, I kinda hope they were Iraqi’s, you know one expects it from those animals. But if it was a bunch of fan belts, fuck them! We should pull out and let them defend themselves. Ungrateful bastards! See how’d they like living under Saddam. Whoever it was, this is the story I got. A truck or two came up on a checkpoint with their lights out. Challenged by MPs, they turned around. Once they got out on Tapline road they got ballsy and allegedly fired off some shots back towards camp. A bunch of patrols went out and helicopters went up, but they disappeared into the night. The next day a bunch of Saudi cops sniffed around. They didn’t find anything. That’s one thing similar between our cultures, small town cops are about worthless, if they had a 7-11, the Saudi cops would be hanging out sucking down tea and Arabian donuts. Makes you wonder. Where’s big Dick Bradigan when you need him?
Speaking of Tapline road, it’s like the major highway in all of Saudi, pretty pathetic considering it’s a two-lane road, kinda like 724, except more dangerous. I shit you not. Fanbelts don’t know how drive. They’re lunatics! Get a load of this, if a driver coming towards you and decides he (and it’s always a he Ortolan, it’s one of the things the Arabs have right, women ain’t allowed to drive) wants to pass, he has the right of way in your lane. No wonder the fan belts are so fatalistic. They are always going around saying Inshallah – God willing. I guess they figure if God wants them to be crushed by a five-ton truck or a flatbed hauling a tank it’s perfectly all right with them.
To answer you question, no, the Saudi government ain’t like a bunch of cultural or religious Nazis. Whatever you’ve been hearing on talk radio is full of shit. Far as I know, nobody around here’s been hassled about crucifixes or Stars of David. Religious services are held openly. Our rations still have ham, if that’s what they call it. No one’s given us any shit about American flags on our fatigues. You know if they were, I’d be bitching up a storm. Till next time, hang lose. Enjoy the fall; you don’t know how lucky you are. What I wouldn’t do to see another frost.

Count


Shannie, October 31st, 1990

Jesus Christ, I turned in tonight and before falling asleep realized its Halloween. It’s funny that I almost forgot, considering just the other day I got to thinking about the night we borrowed the corpse from Lucas’s. It’s funny now, but back then it was serious business. I never admitted it, I was scared shitless after old man Lucas threatened to call the cops. I thought for sure we bought it. I know Morrison felt the same way. I still don’t know how you figured out he was bullshitting us. But, I never could figure you out. I think Morrison is the only one who can. That reminds me, when I get back, we have to have a talk about you two.
Anyway, it’s late, reveille is early. I’m turning in. Again, Happy Halloween, even though it’ll probably be closer to Thanksgiving when you get this. So happy Thanksgiving too.

Lurch


Shannie, November 20th, 1990

Rumors ‘round here are jumping. This place has more rumors than dunes, and you have to be here to understand that statement, really!
The big one is we might be coming home! Words filtered down that the brass in Washington is chewing on a rotation policy. If they approve it, we’re stateside! Sentiment is don’t get your hopes up. I’ll believe it when I see it. In this case, it’s safer to be the pessimist – at least I won’t be disappointed. I think a lot of folks are reacting to the arrival of VII Corps. If you watch CNN like you say you do, you knew they were coming. You can’t help but noticed the increased traffic on Tapline Road. A joke has it that they brought so many tanks that the Arabian peninsula will break off and sink into the Gulf. A buddy of mine over in aviation brigade told me his CO is on record as saying VII Corps is here to join us not to relieve us. You know what that means - the road home goes through Kuwait. As far as I’m concerned, I don’t care how the road gets me home, as long as it gets me there.
Another rumor started a couple of days ago and got a good argument brewing. Word got out about a couple of reporters who wandered off and got lost up at the border. Rumors floated that since we were covering at Bastonge we might be up for a rescue mission into Kuwait. Of course I shot my mouth off that the goddamn reporters had no business being up at the border and that there was no way in hell I’d willingly risk anyone in my squad to save their sorry asses. They disobeyed orders, let ‘em pay the price. Why should any of my boys get shot up over some dumb reporter’s stupidity? Another NCO argued that if they were American we’d be obligated to get them. I told them a story I remember my old man telling me about Vietnam - Erroll Flynn’s son – like these reporters, went MIA in Cambodia and the Army didn’t try to save his ass. To make a long story short, we ended up taking a vote, and I seem to be the only one with common sense! The rest of the officers in my company said they go in if they were sure they’d get no casualties or if our action didn’t start a ground war. Sounds a bit like being a Monday morning quarterback on Saturday afternoon. I don’t know Ortolan, these are good soldiers and everything, but sometimes their heads are stuck so far up their asses I swear they can’t hear their thoughts over their heartbeats.
Happy Thanksgiving and all that shit. What I wouldn’t do for a real turkey dinner. Do me a favor, When you sit down to a nice turkey dinner, think about me eating MREs - Meals Rejected by Ethiopians. If that doesn’t turn your stomach may guilt inspired indigestion do the trick for you.
Anyway, tell everyone I said hi. Hug Flossy for me.

Count


Shannie, December 12, 1990

Day’s run together in an endless band of training and meaningless bullshit. It is easy to forget what day of the week it is. I started carrying a little pocket calendar, every night before I turn in I X off another day. It’s the only way to keep days straight. Anyway, I just realized we’ve been in this shithole sandbox almost four months. This place really puts a chip on your shoulder, it gets you so pissed you wanna kill! No wonder the Arabs always want to pick a fight. I’m really starting to believe that it’s not them, it’s this place. The Fan belts up north, they walk around constantly pissed. I used to think it was us that pissed ‘em off, you know interfering with their desert crossing. I think different, it’s this shithole. The sameness, there’s no landmarks, unless you consider dunes landmarks. You really have to be careful and not wander too far from camp or you’ll get lost. I can’t tell you how many times we’ve gone on search and rescue missions for a guy who wandered out in search of a little privacy. Who thinks about taking a slugger with them to take a dump? A slugger is a hand held GPS. Ortolan don’t laugh, what I wouldn’t do to climb a tree! God knows
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