<Hey Webmasters! Get a free website with holiday themes - Get it NOW!
<Hey Webmasters! Get a free website with holiday themes - Get it NOW! 
|
Writer's & Poet's Forum
Welcome to Writer's & Poet's forum. Feel free to post a message. List news about you, a topic you'd like to talk about, or a poem etc...
|
|
| Search For Similar Forums · Return to Website | ||
 First |
 Prev |
 Reply |
 Home |
Next  |
Last  |
| Viewing Page 1 of 1 (Total Posts: 1) |
| Author | Comment |
George William (Bill) Newport
IP: 4.153.238.19 Oct 5, 04 - 4:51 AM |
WIP A Soldiers Journal
19520715 Tuesday First Combat Tour The Introduction When H Norman Schwarzkopf was in Desert Storm, I was there. I served with Creighton Abrams, William Colby, Maxwell Taylor, and William Westmoreland through the dark years of Viet Nam. I participated with Douglas McArthur and Matthew B Ridgeway in the fiasco which was commonly called Korea. I shared the difficulties of command with Dwight David Eisenhower in World War II. On 7 December 1941 I rode in the backseat of the Japanese dive bomber which dropped that fateful bomb on the number three main gun turret of the USS Arizona. In the eighteen sixties I agonized over the same decisions as did Ulysses S Grant and Robert E Lee. When our country was born I stood beside Ethan Allen, Benedict Arnold, Nathan Hale, John Paul Jones, Marquis de Lafayette, Paul Revere and George Washington. When the bad blood between the Hatfield’s and the McCoy’s escalated, I was there to advise both sides. When the first Popes of the Roman Catholic Church declared, "We are going out into the world and convert these heathens to Christianity if we have to kill every last one of them!" I was at the front of the line pounding my scarred fighting sword against my battle worn shield and screaming "Kill the heathens!" When the first caveman had a disagreement with his neighbor, I was the one who put the club in his hand and showed him how to use it. These were the transcripts from the University of South East Asia, the campuses of Cambodia, Laos, North Viet Nam and Thailand. My major was Death, with a minor in Destruction. It was there that the fires of my Hells forged me. I am a veteran of the great civil war between the North and the South. The North Viet Namese attacked the South Viet Namese to free those enslaved. I fought on the side of South and the North won, again. I was in a splinter group of the Central Intelligence Agency, the Defense Intelligence Agency, and the Defense Security Agency. It was a shadow world beyond overt and covert, the name of which was classified. If I were to tell you, I would have to kill everyone in the room. The use of the word intelligence in that application was a misnomer and a contradiction in terms. The only thing I was ever good at was killing other human beings and destroying whole grid squares of their country. It was not long before I discovered that I liked what I did. I cannot describe the ecstasy I felt when I realized I was accomplishing what I was born to do. I volunteered to go to S E A and practice genocide on a race of people because our benevolent government said they were the enemy and we had Ghod, not a typographical error - my own spelling, on our side. Ghoddess, please protect me from Ghod. The people of S E A's only crime was their culture was not compatible with ours. How could I kill people who worshipped the rainbow as a sign which Ghod still existed and cared about the people here on earth? I can dismantle and reassemble twelve different automatic weapons from as many countries, in the dark, and they will function flawlessly. The Agency taught me a half a dozen ways to disable, maim, and kill human beings. Where does it go on my resume? So, what am I supposed to do now? The spoken and written word, as a form of communication, was inaccurate and inadequate. Until we could directly transmit feelings, clearly, it was all we had. My solutions to deal with the resulting bad - dreams, feelings, memories, was to build an emotional fortress, deep in my mind, put all that stuff inside, lock the door, and pocket the key. That was an acceptable solution for me. Those solutions made it impossible for other people to relate to me, as I seemed to be only a cardboard mockup. It was similar to our callus government agencies who sit there, nod, smile, agree with you, and then do absolutely nothing. The first day I saw the war in Iraq on the TeleVision, the overload to my senses blew the door completely off my fortress. It was no longer secure and it was time for the real solution. I must tell the story so those events could be resolved and not be repeated. Some of my teammates still sleep under bridges and others in the dumpsters just for cardboard, some wait for me in the afterlife. For us, the wars still go on. My teammates still live in me and I in them. It was my wish to allow you to know of my teammates, past and present, before the cycle of my current existence was completed. It may be why the Ghoddesses preserved me. It will be your task to shape the world and my future teammates. Shape it and them well, with care and love, not hate and violence. We were cautioned - instructed - not to allow close relationships to form. The man beside you could be killed at any moment. In Special Forces we lived and worked together. We were closer than lovers. We had to know each other's thoughts - what each would do - and tailor our actions to dovetail with theirs. We were not supposed to beco |
| First |
Prev |
Reply |
Home |
Next |
Last |
bravenet.com