Want to know what combat is like?
By Corporal Lawrence, C.

Well, I am still here in Iraq, and with regards to this war, I can say I have seen and done some amazing things.

I’ve seen both cowards and heroes both young and old.

Been both confident and terrified, both at the same time.

I’ve grown to love and hate people with a fierce passion.

I’ve given food to the starving, and water to the thirsty.

I’ve seen the pain and uncertainty in a man, woman, and child’s face right before they died.

I’ve seen the terror in a man’s face when my weapon was pointed at his head.

I’ve looked a man in the eyes right before I put a sandbag over his head.

I’ve tasted the burn of OC/pepper spray as I sprayed a man in the face.

I’ve learned Arabic from a 12 year old girl who was my friend.

I’ve waved hello back at so many passing cars, I felt like I was famous.

I’ve been on TV 4 times, and then watched the media tell lies about us.

I’ve been in 3 papers, and was amazed at the inaccuracy of my story.

I’ve seen dozens of marriages fall apart on both ends.

I’ve seen Iraqis cry, they were so happy that we were here.

I’ve had Iraqis swear me up and down because I had to search them.

I’ve heard the launch of mortar rounds as they left the tube.

I’ve seen those same mortar rounds blow up around me and my friends.

I had a friend show me pictures of his kids, and get killed the very next day.

I’ve heard the pop-pop-pop of gunfire, and then the ping-ping-ping as it hit around me.

I’ve seen people afraid to pull the trigger, and not kill…and I’ve seen people kill when they shouldn’t have pulled the trigger.

I’ve seen men in the cross hairs of the scope mounted on my rifle and I’ve pulled the trigger so they will never ever be seen again.

I’ve laid countless hours on my cot trying to sleep but couldn’t, because the helicopters were too loud, explosions were too close, and there was too much gunfire.

I’ve taken prisoners, guarded prisoners, and released prisoners.

I’ve lost weight because my stomach couldn’t handle the food here.

I’ve knocked on people’s doors, kicked down people’s doors, and almost shot off someone’s door.

I’ve sat on a rooftop for 53 days straight looking for bad guys, and learned what patience really is.

I’ve lost all sense of privacy, but grew closer than a brother with my squad and platoon.

I’ve cleaned my weapon more than I have cleaned my clothes, because it was more important.

I’ve learned to appreciate all the things I once took for granted.I’ve never worked so hard and got paid so little in my life, but even still worked harder.

I’ve watched videos of Nick Berg getting his head sawed off his body while he screamed, and never wanted to kill so badly in my life.

I remember when a young kid that called us “sadiq-i” (friend) brought us food each day at a checkpoint, and remember when a suicide bomber killed him and 18 other people days later.

I remember a crazy lady telling me lies to waste my time for no reason.

I remember a pretty girl secretly waving hello to me so nobody would see, fearing ridicule.

I remember the screams of people when a restaurant exploded with innocent people inside.

I’ll never forget the smell of burning flesh for as long as I live…ever.

I’ve seen Iraqi people fight alongside us one minute, and then fight against us the next.

I’ve captured dozens of weapons, some of which were gold-plated.

I’ve been in a car accident that would’ve killed me if I wasn’t riding in an armored hummer.

I’ve smiled and scowled, laughed and yelled at different crowds of people.

I’ve seen a 13-year-old prostitute bring money home to her father to live.

I’ve smelled the crisp air of a new morning, and the soot and stench of cordite the next morning.

I’ve been so hot, that I stopped sweating and my body started to shut down.

I’ve been so tired and worn out, but still couldn’t sleep for days at a time.

I’ve seen people accidentally shoot their weapons and almost kill people, and I’ve seen people intentionally shoot their weapons and kill people.

I’ve never counted or carried so much ammunition in my life, and I’ve been around the world more than once or twice with the military.

I’ve sat back and enjoyed an ice cold Coke, and other times I’ve called on the radio begging for a re-supply of water and food because we were starving literally.

I’ve seen guys “baby” their weapons, and I’ve seen guys treat them like hell, fully knowing it was the only thing that might save their lives.

I’ve said “I hate it here” a thousand times, and heard it said a million more times.

I’ve seen a platoon leader curl up in the fetal position out of terror during a firefight, and a private in that same platoon fight like a savage for his life.

I’ve seen a medic choke-up and not be able to do his job, and an infantryman next to him bandage up a wounded child.

I’ve had kids throw rocks at me because I didn’t have any chocolate candy to give them.

I almost shot a 14-year-old kid that pulled a gun on another kid, the toys look very real here.

I’ve seen kids play in a virtual minefield of explosives and ordinance like they were at Disneyland.

I’ve heard shots fired and hit the ground, ducked, jumped behind cover, and flat out ignored them. I’ve seen “new guys” in units come here so scared they point their guns at everything they see.

I’ve been on missions so long, that I’ve come back to my FOB (base camp) with a full beard.

I’ve sat up late at night waiting for a friend to come back from a patrol that got hit, like a parent waits for their child who’s been out all night.

I’ve made best of friends with a 17-year-old kid, and a 47-year-old man, and talked to both like we were old high school buddies.

I’ve cleaned my friend’s blood off of his equipment, and turned it in because he was killed in an explosion hours before.

I’ve seen enough different people’s body parts, that I could put them all together and make a completely new body with them.

I’ve laughed and joked with Australian soldiers, had conversations with British soldiers, and drank chi (tea) with Arab soldiers.

I’ve seen how well our bulletproof vest work and they do stop bullets.

I’ve read the bible and figured I am in, or near the ‘Garden of Eden’; but it hardly looks like paradise to me.

I’ve seen fisherman fishing, kids swimming, boats and dead bodies floating in the Tigris River.

I’ve asked myself dozens of times “Why am I here?” but I know the answer, and I know if asked…I’d come back again no question.

I’ve missed my family and still do, and I regret not spending as much time with them as I should’ve before I left.

I’ve figured out who my real friends are back home, because they have taken the time to write me a letter or an e-mail.

I felt sold out by my chain of command because I made a decision to shoot, and sat through an ‘inquisition’ for making a judgment call that I would again.

I’ve gone on my 2 weeks of R&R and enjoyed the downtime, however was anxious to get back to this strange place.

I’ve been to far too many memorial services of our fallen brothers, and choked up every time, even if silently so nobody could tell.

I’ve seen an enemy sniper cause so much pandemonium, that without a shot being fired the sniper was winning a psychological victory over us.

I’ve traded ‘war stories’ with my best friend who worked in the private sector up north through countless e-mails.

I’ve been disgusted by the double standard that I have seen day in and day out.

I’ve lost a friend to an enemy sniper’s bullet and felt helpless.

I’ve been given a urinalysis test because people were doing drugs over here.

I’ve seen the Iraqi people respect the military, and I’ve seen them totally disregard our presence and “walk all over us.”

I’ve searched a car we stopped in sector and found an Oklahoma license plate in the trunk with ‘04 tag stickers on it.

I’ve felt my stomach knot and my heart skip a beat when a vehicle speeding by, cut his wheel and came directly at me…I was going to be blown-up for sure I thought.

I’ve been terribly sick, but continued to work and patrol through it…mission first.

I’ve gotten packages and letters from people I don’t know, and a smile was brought to my face each time.

I’ve had my comfort zone tested and violated by these people time and time again.

I’ve had Iraqis throw fireworks at me on New Years, thinking it was funny that I couldn’t tell it wasn’t a gunshot.

I’ve come to the conclusion that some soldiers here will return home by the grace of God, and other soldiers will come home simply because the manto the left or right of him did their job.

I’ve seen lousy soldiers awarded medals for no reason at all, and other soldiers who rightfully deserved recognition for gallantry under fire passed over with not even a pat on the back.

I’ve seen the clear difference between competence and arrogance in my leadership.

Corporal Lawrence, C.
__________________
This I pledge, and I’ll take it to my death I’ll lay my life down for you
and die over again. And I, I’m not ashamed of the Most High. Even if I die
tonight, if I die tonight.

Si vis pacem, para bellum

***UPDATE 07 JULY 2006***

PLEASE restrict your comments here to the debate in the subject line (Katrina and other issues of personal responsibility). If you want to leave condolences for Step, go to his new place on my blog. It’s located here. Also, for those of you who did enter comments below for the original post here for Step, I’ve copied all of them (the nice ones and even the ones with condolences and a little civil disagreement or agreement with me) over to the new post. Thank you for your patience.

***END UPDATE***

No, your eyes are not deceiving you - I’ve moved Step’s post. It was getting too degrading, and was not appropriate for my post mourning my friend. Yes, the post remains the same, because I do not apologize for my sorrow nor my anger and outrage at the continue upsurge of crime stemming from the tide of Katrina. Please see here for my new rules of engagement.

Step did not deserve the downward spiral of filth and venom that was being sloshed around here by the schadenfreudes on the left. However, there was some very good, valid debate going on here about Katrina and personal responsibility, so I will leave the comments as is. Now, however, if you want to leave a comment, you must first register at my site. And even then, any posts indicating exuberance of a police officer’s death, a personal threat to me, vulgar or demeaning language about me or other women, or any other morally repugnant comments will be summarily deleted without further explanation - you’ve just been given one. Morally repugnant will be my judgement, because most of you seem to confuse moral repugnance with civil discourse.

Yes, you can still debate here, and call me a racist, fascist, pig, Nazi, or whatever other liberal code-words you all like to use when you have no other valid argument, so carry on! Be forewarned, however, I still reserve the right to delete any comment I choose. I also ask that you remain on-topic, even if you choose to call me names, because if you go off-topic like you did in this original post about Step, your comment will be deleted.

ATTN: Law enforcement officers, friends of LEOs, my friends, and anyone who wishes to leave condolences for Step, you may do so here. However, you too will have to register first. If you do not want to register, you can send your thoughts to my email address MsUnderestimated@gmail.com, and I will post them for you. Also, all very nice condolences, warm wishes, and heart-felt thoughts will be moved over to Step’s new post as quickly as I can, so be patient. There are, thankfully, many of those.

Sorry it has to be this way, but some of you have given me no choice.

And as I said above, you can still comment or debate here or elsewhere, or call me names, etc., so carry on! It’s very revealing to allow you all to show your social acumen (or lack thereof) to the rest of the world so you can all be seen for the exact whackjobs you are. Happy trolling!

Here is Retired Marine Gunnery Sergeant R. Lee Ermey at his first press conference. The main topic of discussion is the Marine in Iraq who shot the Iraq insurgent to death.  We pick up as the reporter asks about how this potential war crime will affect our image in the world.

Ermey: “WHAT KIND OF A PANSY-ASSED QUESTION IS THAT?”

Reporter 1: “Well I think….”

Ermey: “THINK, FANCY BOY?!  GET THIS THROUGH THAT SEPTIC TANK ON TOP OF YOUR SHOULDERS, MORON: I DON’T GIVE A DAMN WHAT YOU THINK, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME???  THAT MARINE SHOT AN ENEMY COMBATANT, SHITHEAD; SO GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS AND DEAL WITH IT BEFORE I MAKE YOU MY OWN PERSONAL PIN CUSHION!!!  NEXT QUESTION: YOU IN THE BLUE SUIT.”

Reporter 2: Don’t you think that the world’s opinion of our operations is important? 

Ermey:  “OH SURE!  YOU DON’T KNOW THE TIMES I HAVE CRIED MYSELF TO SLEEP WORRYING ABOUT WHAT SOME GODDAMNED FRENCH PANSY THINKS!  OH THE DAYS I HAVE HAD TO WEEP BECAUSE SOME SHIT-EATING TERRORIST FUCKER MIGHT BE MAD AT US, BECAUSE WE WENT INTO WHATEVER GOD-FORSAKEN HOLE IN THE SHIT THAT HE LIVES IN AND KILLED HIM.  WHAT THE HELL KIND OF DUMBASS QUESTION IS THAT, YOU PETER-PUFFING JACKASS??  WE ARE THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, AND WHEN YOU ATTACK US, WE ARE GOING TO COME TO YOUR HOUSE AND BLOW YOUR STINKING CAMEL-LICKING CARCASS INTO PIECES SO SMALL WE WILL BE ABLE TO BURY YOUR SORRY ASS IN A THIMBLE!!  YEAH, I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE THINKING.  YOU ARE PROBABLY AFRAID, THINKING THAT I HAVE SUCH AN “EXTREME” ATTITUDE AND THAT I NEED TO BE MORE “SENSITIVE” TO OTHER PEOPLE’S FEELINGS.  WELL LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING YOU POLE-SMOKING PANSY!  I DON’T GIVE TWO SHITS WHAT YOU OR ANYBODY ELSE THINKS!  THIS IS A DAMN WAR, AND IF YOU CAN’T HANDLE THAT, THEN YOU SHOULD GO HOME AND SUCK ON MAMMA’S TIT!!  DO YOU HEAR ME YOU RUNT??  NOW GET THE HELL OUT OF MY PRESS ROOM BEFORE I GO CRAZY AND BEAT THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF YOU!!!  NEXT QUESTION: YOU WITH THE UGLY-ASSED TIE.  LOOK AT THAT THING!  IT IS HIDEOUS.”

Reporter 3:  “Aren’t you going against the freedom of the press by .  . ” 

Ermey: “FREEDOM??  WHAT IN BLUE HELL DO YOU KNOW ABOUT FREEDOM?  I HAVE SWEATED MY ASS OFF IN JUNGLES, WHILE BEING SHOT AT, FOR THIS NATION!!  WHAT IN THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE YOU LITTLE SHIT-SUCKING WEASEL?  WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU PUT YOUR ASS ON THE LINE FOR ANYTHING?  AND YET YOU HAVE THE UNMITIGATED TEMERITY TO SHOW UP HERE AND MONDAY-MORNING QUARTERBACK THE ACTIONS OF A BRAVE MARINE, WHO WAS DEFENDING HIMSELF AND HIS UNIT FROM AN ATTACK BY SOME MURDEROUS AL-QUEDA SYMPATHIZER!!!  YOU WANNA KNOW WHAT I AM CONCERNED ABOUT, NUMBNUTS?  I AM CONCERNED ABOUT A BUNCH OF GRABASSTIC, ORGANIZED MORONS WITH CAMERAS AND MICROPHONES DOING THEIR BEST TO PORTRAY OUR BRAVE MEN AND WOMEN AS WAR CRIMINALS!  I AM CONCERNED ABOUT CHICKEN-SHIT PANSIES THAT WANT US TO NEGOTIATE WITH TERRORISTS AND WHINE ABOUT THEIR PISS-ANT “FREEDOMS”!!”

Reporter 3:  “I .  .  . ”

Ermey: “DID YOU HAVE A BIG BOWL OF STUPID FOR BREAKFAST THIS MORNING, NUMBNUTS?  I DON’T WANT TO HEAR ANOTHER WORD OUT OF THAT COMMIE CRY-HOLE IN THAT SHIT-PILE YOU CALL A HEAD!  AND THAT GOES TRIPLE FOR THE REST OF YOU PANSY-ASSED MORONS!  NOW GET THE HELL OUT OF MY PRESS ROOM BEFORE I SHOVE MY BOOT SO FAR UP YOUR ASSES THAT YOU CHOKE TO DEATH ON MY SHOELACES!!!!”     

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