Embracing the Suck

[posted by Callimachus]

It's been a while since I introduced you to the writings of a milblogger. But they're still out there (even as Harry Reid declares their war officially "lost"), still working to the limits of human endurance during the day, and finding the words for it all at night.

Meet Zeke:

Hours pass. Conversations between me and Maddog are random; First thing we will do when we get back home. The infinite universe. The multi-verse…time travel. Army policy on “safety.” What Kyle would look like with a wig on….etc.

Then Duece yells, “Blue bongo approaching!” We look up. Indeed, yet another vehicle is coming down the road. The road they are not supposed to be on. Silly Iraqi’s, you’d think this was “their” road. We do nothing. The bongo approaches. “700 meters!” yells Duece. We start to get out of our Humvee and wave at the guy to turn around with a big orange flag. “500 meters!” wow, what a jerk, we’re tense enough with explosions and threats of suicide bombers without this guy pushing his limits. But then again, he probably lives around here and is just trying to get home. But that’s not my problem, not today. “400 meters!” That’s it. I open my M203 grenade tube and swap out a High Explosive round for a star cluster. “This should get his attention” I say as I snap the breach closed. “Wait a second,” Maddog says. He pulls out an Anti-tank rocket, holds it up in the air and yells, “Behold my boomstick!!!” The guy can’t hear or understand Maddog from that far away, but “sign language” has done wonders for his comprehension of the English language. The vehicle comes to a quick stop. He exits the vehicle. Via interpreter, we explain what he is NOT going to do, then tell him what he IS going to do. He wants to argue. So we tell him what WE are going to do. He leaves.

Another friend you didn't know you had, doing the hard work on your behalf.