Meet Neil Shea, a globe-trotting correspondent and, as you will see, a complete tool. My latest story, A Gathering Menace, tells of a group of soldiers I traveled with in Afghanistan last summer who, I believe, had become very dangerous, who had become capable of committing atrocities. The article coincides strangely with news of an apparent killing spree by a single American soldier in Kandahar over the weekend. Neil has spent a fair amount of time w/ US troops in a combat zone but he seems blissfully unaware that they are actually less atrocity-prone than civilians of the same age cohort. You may not catch his bias in the short bit above, but it will be readily apparent in a minute. Listen to how he describes a group of the most-highly trained and disciplined warriors the world has ever known. Up ahead, in the stream of black shapes, were the American soldiers I had come to fear. They were men who enjoyed demolishing Afghan houses, men who shot dogs in the face. The pair who had embraced like lovers, one tenderly drawing the blade of his knife along the pale, smooth skin of his friend’s throat. There was a guy who’d let the others tie his legs open and mock-rape him, and there were several men who had boasted of plans to murder their ex-wives and former girlfriends. Wow, that is some truly brilliant prose there Neil. You have your own fear (of missing out on a good massacre story), dog-slaughtering, homo-erotic horseplay and ideations about misogynistic murder (Did you study paranoia with Michael Yon?) And all that shite is slung at American soldiers in just one paragraph; you are one efficient ass-clown buddy. Hoping to get some quality linking and excerpting from the lefty losers who love hating on the troops, eh? Now he introduces his prospective villain. I thought back to what an American Army sergeant had told me hours earlier. “This is where I come to do fucked-up things.” His face had been clear and smooth, his smile almost shy. It was a statement of happy expectation, as though Afghanistan were a playground. Interesting descriptive points. You seem to focus on "pale, smooth skin of his friend's throat" and "His face had been clear and smooth, his smile almost shy." Dude, I almost expect the next line to include "He seemed to give me a come hither glance." WTF? Are you writing "Michael Yon's Gay Letters to Penthouse"? Not that there is anything wrong with that. But the whole sensualization of this is leaning toward pitifully porn-like. But I am sure you can get us back on track with some sensationalized, non-existent, doesn't even ever freakin' happen, ultra-violence by your faux Alex and his droogs. He was the de facto leader of a platoon I will call Destroyer, and although he is a real person, not a composite, I have heard his words in many variations, from many American combat troops. But he and some of his men were the first I had met who seemed very near to committing the dumb and vicious acts that we call war crimes. We marched on, toward houses the soldiers planned to raid and doors that would soon be blasted open, toward men who would be ripped awake, blindfolded, and hauled away. The sergeant’s words rattled in my head. I hoped the men would not do anything terrible. Liar, you are practically salivating at the potential scoopage you could witness for the world. I think you are kinda disappointed that the platoon of mindless, killing machines you nicknamed "Destroyer" didn't actually destroy much. I mean they kicked in some doors, rousted some Afghans, and may have even killed a dog, although it doesn't sound like they ate it. But what they didn't do is rape, kill, pillage and burn. I get the feeling that Neil feels cheated. God you are a douche Neil. Too bad they don't manage even a minor My Lai for you. I can't muster an ounce of sympathy for you because you missed out on your shot at a Pulitzer. I mean these guys were all potential SSG Bales', right? How dare they not snap, slaughter a slew of civilians and give you the story you so richly covet? Ungrateful, civilized, non-barbaric bastards. They did tell you about all the war crimes they had already committed right? Well, by your reckoning anyway. Slowly, the soldiers began adding more stories, and tales of the past week blended with memories of killing and destruction during other missions and battles, in Afghanistan and Iraq, during many tours of duty. The men’s voices fell over each other in a clatter of brutality and homoerotic jokes. Admit it, you really dig the homoerotic jokes. But back to Un-True Confessions.... So I grabbed the chain and dragged it out and shot it again with the shotgun and, uhhhh, brains all over me … Shut up, faggot. You never did that … Man, even if you actually got to see some Afghan chick and she was hot, I still wouldn’t *** her cause she’d still be from here, which means she’d still be covered with shit. My last deployment, my platoon sergeant, he’d say, “Make sure nothing lives. Cows: Taliban food. Sheep: Taliban food. Donkeys: Taliban transportation. Kill everything.” You know what? *** these people. Spend time around soldiers and you realize a lot of this is part of the game, part of being a young man in war. Still, I sensed more anger and hatred than I had encountered before. And God-willing and the creek don't rise, that anger will boil over right in front of your oh-so ready eyes and you can churn out that perfect piece of righteous condemnation needed to end this ongoing atrocity. Yeah, well tough luck shit-head, you got what everyone else who tags along with our troops gets -- a look at good people doing hard damn work, risking their lives and sometimes losing them, under...
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Posted
May 13 2012, 09:17 PM
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BLACKFIVE