Deployment Boredom...

...I just got this from the e-mail... an ole Jarhead buddy sent it to me.. I don't know who this Mr. M is, but what he describes sounds pretty standard.. Hell, on Adak, we used to beat rats to death with softball bats... but, that is for another blog... a bored soldier or Marine is a dangerous thing... heh..

Mister M here, from Baghdad, Iraq.

My last article dealt with some of the more serious aspects of the war in Iraq, but I would like to take this space and time to address something we like to call "Cartoonish Buffoonery".

You see, when you take a thousand or so cavalry and artillery soldiers, and you send them overseas with nary a drop of liquor, and put them into an oft-psychotic and surreal environment such as Iraq, the ensuing tomfoolery is of epic proportions.

The things I have witnessed here have been unbelievable. The fucking Buffoonery needle is pegged out in the red.

For example:



Yes, donkeys. The poorer Iraqi people have these big ass nasty donkeys that they use for everything under the sun. They stand around in traffic next to 50 thousand dollar cars. I swear to you that I've seen a donkey with most of a Dodge Omni strapped to it's back. Not only this, but everyone who rides a donkey or a donkey-cart has some kind of big fucking stick that they use solely for donkey-beating purposes. It's great.

A few donkey anecdotes:

I was at a UXO site, where an unexploded bomblet of one kind or another was awaiting demolition. I was pulling local security at the gun truck, when I noticed an unusually high number of donkey-cart teams milling around in the road. An idea struck me. I attracted the attention of a child riding a donkey-cart, and motioned to him with crude hand-gestures that he should beat the animal. The child, eager to please, proceeded to wail the living fuck out of the donkey with a short rubber hose. The donkey made a loud donkey-noise and I laughed, for it was tremendously funny.

A man was pulling weeds in his garden one day, and a donkey was standing near him. Without any provocation, the donkey walked over and screamed into the man's ear. This obviously frightened the man, who was in some kind of deep rumination while pulling his weeds. The guy stood up, and proceeded to chide the donkey in rapid, angry Arabic. The donkey, who does not speak human language, paid him no heed, and screamed again. The man then kicked the donkey in the face, Jet Li-style. The donkey left in a hurry, feelings hurt.

Then you have the donkey-jacking. What? Yeah, that's what I said. Two donkey carts rolled down the street, one with a single passenger, one with three men. The 3-man cart pulled alongside the 1-man cart, and a man leapt off onto the single-man's cart. He threw the hapless driver onto the other cart, and rode the newly-stolen cart off into the sunset, while his partners held the man down to watch his donkey and cart slowly make a getaway. It was terrible and funny as fuck at the same time, most of the other things that I find amusing.

I could go on for days about the donkeys. But I don't want to focus too much on one thing. Let's move on to the Iraqis themselves.

Like any other nation, the Iraqis have a few smart people, a whole lot of average people, and a very vocal minority of stupid, stupid people. Unfortunately, in a place like Iraq, with a whole lot of extremely deadly shit lying around and virtually no rules and regulations for abovementioned deadly shit, some Cartoonish Buffoonery is inevitable.

Check this out. These fuckin' guys, in a hairbrained scheme to get the brass shells from tank rounds to melt it down and sell it, decided to put hundreds of high-explosive tanks rounds into a roaring fire. I'm not going to elaborate on the exact nature of their injuries, but let's just say it was anything but pretty.

Three drunken Iraqis on a sidecar motorcycle tried to kill us with a handgun. We were armed with machine guns, among other things. (Note: Do not bring a pistol to a machinegun fight)

Once, we found what we thought was a dead body. We find dead bodies all the time, they're generally not a big deal in a place like this, but this one was right next to a vehicle checkpoint, and we didn't notice it for about an hour. A sergeant kicked the body gently to see if the man was alive, because we couldn't register a pulse or breathing, due to the corpse's immense fatness. The body made no response. The sergeant kicked him again, harder. Again, no response. The sergeant then proceeded to royally kick the fuck out of the body, with grandiose and looping football kicks. This time, the 'corpse' woke up and complained that he was so fucking drunk that he couldn't feel his legs, and that he was going back to sleep.

Last night, the Iraqis buried three rocket propelled grenades in the road-median in the center of a bustling marketplace. They told us they buried them, and showed us where. Maybe I'm expecting too much here, but I could imagine a thousand better places to bury a fucking RPG round.

We have an ongoing issue where religious leaders of one kind or another tell the masses that the Americans have XRAY night-vision goggles, or XRAY sunglasses, that we use to look through the billowing black robes of the Iraqi women. It would be funnier, except that this once instigated a crowd to become so unruly that shots were fired. The ensuing chaos was not funny at all. We always show the Iraqis our night-vision goggles so that they can see what we see, in order to counter this propaganda.

A few nights ago two men had a grenade fight on a bus.

Yes, you read that right. A fuckin grenade fight. My question is, how in the fuck can you win such a contest on a bus? Doesn't everyone die? Well, yes, most everyone died. The 'winner' of the grenade fight (the guy who got to throw TWO grenades) was missing an arm and most of his head, because the grenade went off about 1 second after he dropped the spoon.

God damn.

Then there's the Iraqi children. Here in Al Thawra, the average family has about 8 fucking kids, so there are literally swarms of children lurking everywhere. The shit these kids do is idiotic beyond words. First of all, the word they use to address all Americans is "Mister". So imagine a crowd of roughly 100 kids screaming "MISTER MISTER MISTER MISTER". Not only that, but they all ask "WHATS YOUR NAME", or say some kind of random nonsense, like "DONKEY SADDAM". The cacophony accompanying any group of children is enough to drive a man insane. Not only that, but they beg for everything under the sun, including water, MREs, candy, knives, money, and whatever.

The thing is, these kids are not starving, by any means. They are healthy children, by third-world country standards. I always see them walking around munching on candy and snacks, like any other children. They just really like Americans. They caper around, so any drive down any street is some kind of fucking half-ass circus, with children dancing around, yelling at us, shooting us the 'thumbs up', doing cartwheels, backflips, and all manner of frolicking.

One of them threw an onion at me and hit me in the fucking ear.

One day, a bunch of them were dragging MISSILES down the street. Fucking MISSILES. Like, high explosive missiles that fly through the air and blow the fuck up; they were dragging them down the goddamn fucking street.

We saw about a dozen of them drinking beer and staggering around, too. Most of these kids were like 9 years old. That was some funny ass shit. Especially when they began projectile-vomiting.

Oh, and let's not forget the child-rearing techniques of the Iraqi peoples, such as beaning your fucking kids with rocks if they do something wrong. I witnessed this hilarious bit of child abuse in An Najaf first, then here in Baghdad in abundance, where I grew used to, then to appreciate it's subtle beauty. Apparently, baseball sized stones are the Iraqi substitute for a paddle for prepubescent ass-whoopins.

And if the children of the ghettos are particularly irritating, you give a larger child a bit of candy or something to beat the shit out of the smaller children. Not only do you accomplish your goal of ridding yourself of the crowd of kiddie-winkies, but it provides for minutes of laughing pleasure as the kids careen about, knocking the fuck out of one another.

Then you have the hilarious shit the soldiers do.

Like dog-spearing.

You see, here at Camp Marlboro, we have a problem with big ass, mean, mangy dogs. We have like 30 of em prowling around at any given time. They spread disease, growl at people, and shit all over the fuckin place.

We can't really empty our magazines into packs of feral dogs, so we spear them. We use a big pipe with an AK-47 bayonet affixed to one end. We chase the dogs and thrust spears into their vital bits in order to kill them.

It's actually an improvement over the original method devised by the medics, which is to beat the dogs to death with axe handles. That took about a half-hour.

I tried to kill a cat by hitting it with my kevlar helmet, but it was pretty fast, and I ended up merely grazing it.

Some of the other fun things we do:

Tell Iraqi children fucked up things, such as:

"My name is Buttstroke Me" (at which point they run around saying "buttstroke me, buttstroke me", which is very funny)

"His name is Bitch" (at which point they call that soldier "bitch bitch")

Sometimes we just give them a plastic bag and have them clean up the huge piles of offal and garbage that lay stinking in the torrid Iraq sun. It's like emptying the ocean with a tablespoon, but what the fuck. It's something to do.

I could go on for days describing the cartoonish buffoonery, but I won't. I have to save something for another time, I suppose.

Yes, Baghdad is not all dead bodies and warfare, sometimes it's donkeys, children, and giggles.

Have fun, and enjoy America.

Mister M
Al Thawra, Baghdad, Iraq
Camp Marlboro

by Eric on February 02, 2004 | Comments(2) | Jokes
The Everlasting Phelps links with: Army Tomfoolery

Comments so far:

Don't let PETA see that shit about "dog-spearing," or those poor bastards will have to deal with assclowns as well as the heat!

posted by: Mike the Marine on February 2, 2004 10:03 AM

I beat a rat to death with a (child's) softball bat, once. heh And I was never in the military. And it wasn't fun. And I don't know why I even brought it up.
Sorry. Moving on.

posted by: scorpy on February 3, 2004 09:46 AM