This is the end, my only friend, the end.
We don't get the smell of Napalm here. The smell of shit fills the air, most nights. Up wind, the pools of sewage were strategically placed. Every day shit and piss are dumped into these three little lakes. A week ago, two Hummers were mysteriously driven into these foul smelling oasis's of waste.
I flew a mission over the red desert two days ago. My Black Hawk Mission was canceled, for now. I picked up a three day gun truck mission. We are driving around looking for Taliban returning from Pakistan. I can't give details, but it promises lots of firefights. The Captain of the unit told me my laptop probably will not get shot, but may be blown up by an IED. I wish I had a better bullet proof vest for this one. 3 days on the road hunting insurgents. And we hunt at night. Fields of marijuana were all over in the areas I visited on Saturday. The red desert was a blast. It covers hundreds of miles, and the Afghanis call it the Desert of Death. There is no place like home. I got to fire the M-240H machine gun from the right gunner's position over the red desert. As looked up, I noticed that the Black Hawk escort was right next to us. That was a strange feeling. . .
For the next three days I will be dodging bombs and bullets. . . I think I am going to extend my stay in Afghanistan for 2 more weeks, then go to Iraq. There is so much fun stuff to do here, I just can't get enough. I can't remember if I posted this, but my articles are out now, too. At least the paper in Pahrump is on line.
National Guard in Pakistan
http://www.pahrumpvalleytimes.com/2005/11/04/news/guard.html
Jim Cyr at War in Afghanistan
http://www.pahrumpvalleytimes.com/2005/11/04/news/cyr.html
For the last week, I have lost feeling in my left hand. I have not had any feeling in my pinky and ring finger on my left hand. I think it is carpel tunnel. Not sure. My back, as usual, is killing me as well. I sleep OK, but at odd hours. . . everything is odd here.
This is the end, of our elaborate plans, the end
No safety or surprise, the end
I'll never look into your eyes, again.
I flew a mission over the red desert two days ago. My Black Hawk Mission was canceled, for now. I picked up a three day gun truck mission. We are driving around looking for Taliban returning from Pakistan. I can't give details, but it promises lots of firefights. The Captain of the unit told me my laptop probably will not get shot, but may be blown up by an IED. I wish I had a better bullet proof vest for this one. 3 days on the road hunting insurgents. And we hunt at night. Fields of marijuana were all over in the areas I visited on Saturday. The red desert was a blast. It covers hundreds of miles, and the Afghanis call it the Desert of Death. There is no place like home. I got to fire the M-240H machine gun from the right gunner's position over the red desert. As looked up, I noticed that the Black Hawk escort was right next to us. That was a strange feeling. . .
For the next three days I will be dodging bombs and bullets. . . I think I am going to extend my stay in Afghanistan for 2 more weeks, then go to Iraq. There is so much fun stuff to do here, I just can't get enough. I can't remember if I posted this, but my articles are out now, too. At least the paper in Pahrump is on line.
National Guard in Pakistan
http://www.pahrumpvalleytimes.com/2005/11/04/news/guard.html
Jim Cyr at War in Afghanistan
http://www.pahrumpvalleytimes.com/2005/11/04/news/cyr.html
For the last week, I have lost feeling in my left hand. I have not had any feeling in my pinky and ring finger on my left hand. I think it is carpel tunnel. Not sure. My back, as usual, is killing me as well. I sleep OK, but at odd hours. . . everything is odd here.
This is the end, of our elaborate plans, the end
No safety or surprise, the end
I'll never look into your eyes, again.
posted by Schaber at 12:01 PM
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