posted by american short-timer at Monday, February 13, 2006
writing for those who can't
short - tim·er shôrt tī'mer noun
1. one nearing the end of a contractual term of service; a military enlistee at the end of a tour.
2. one arrested in service past a mutually agreed upon date after invocation of an executive order.
3. one at the proverbial end of his proverbial rope.
Inference: declining institutional loyalty proportionate to the nearing of one's Expiration Term of Service.
See also: Boobus Enlisticatus.
ALSO:
I am not in Iraq and I am not currently in the Army and I am not getting my ass shot at. This site is in compliance with MNC-I #9 as per FICI-CE-I, DoD Directive 5230.9 and AR 25-1, etcetera etcetera andsoforth.
Drop american short-timer a line.
Charlie Yankee Alpha... out.
live each day as though it were to be your last, and one day you're sure to be right.
--Harry Harbord Morant
18 Comments:
Anybody who can block it out, who can stop it getting to them, who doesn't allow it to affect them in a big way is either desensitized to the point of sickness, a natural born psychopath, or dead. Don't be any of these AST.
charlie
I want to write you something reassuring here. I want to write you some happy-assed-horse-shit about how it's-all-going-to-be-okay, hang loose, keep-your-head-down, it'll-all-be-over-soon.
God, such bullshit.
Then my mind fucking revolts. Just fucking rebels against even the possibility that your voice might be silenced. I refuse to live in such a world. I demand it that your voice - your incredibly articulate, raving, mad-as-a-fucking-hatter, raw, screaming, screetching, finger-nails-down-a-blackboard, whoremongering, booze-guzzling, angry, cursing, fist-slinging-blindly-in-the-darkness voice - will survive. I fucking DEMAND it. I exert the sheer force of my will, the vehemence of my determination, each cell of my fucking body, to the survival of such a voice.
But all that and a buck will buy you a bad cup of coffee.
So yeah, live your fucking thousand years right fucking now. Ride the monster you have grasped. Ride the blondes, and the red heads, and the exotic-fucking-beauties. Freestyle off of the flash of leg. Climb the icy caves and craggy mountains. Slip into the warm embrace of the crystal clear blue waters of Jamaica mahn. Scale the Aurora Borealis. Watch the stars sweep across the sky. Run. Swim. Fly. Fuck. Crawl.
And rage. Man, RAGE. You got to rage against the dying of the fucking light. DO. NOT. GO. GENTLY. INTO. THAT. GOOD. NIGHT.
Shit, I'm scared for ya, bubba, but I'm damn glad to see a new post. I try not to worry...
BEST.POST.EVER.
Keep channel surfing. Whatever gets you through. Life when you get back will be as fucking great as it is fucking terrible now. Which is to say 100000000000000000000000000000000000000 times better than most people are even capable of even comprehending.
Get back, bro. There's a world to conquer!
It took me about twelve days before the “It won’t happen to me” protective shell wore off. Which, led me to the “I can handle it” syndrome. Eventually I gave in to the “It don’t mean shit” attitude. Some where along the line I developed a strong case of the “I fucking love this”.
For months after I got out of there people would ask me what it felt like to kill someone or have my friends blown up in front of me. I would respond “I didn’t feel nothing.” I just did my fucking job and didn’t feel a thing. If wasting a few Haji were between me and a ticket home, the choice was fucking easy.
Now every night I wrestle with what if scenarios and get chills or rushes when I think about the RPG that didn’t explode or the spider webbed window that could have been by head. It is funny how when you are taking fire how you never seem to be able to shrink behind what little cover you have.
Funny how war is 99% boredom, but the 1% of the no so boring is only welcome the other 99% of the time.
I guess I don’t have much advice for you. Everyone seems to deal with there shit their own way. I have a few techniques to help you out when you get back.
Hey, as always, I'm honored and delighted you guys still take the effort to click through here. And I appreciate the kind words of support and all the well-wishes.
Hey Jeff, yeah, what's that all about? How many people did you kill. WTF over. My gut instinct is to offend. I'd say, '137 not counting the women and children.' Or, 'On-duty or off-duty?' or '54 and counting. Hey, I'm still on the clock.' Or maybe, 'Before or after we captured 'em?' I mean, my point is, someone asking something dumbass like that isn't fucking THINKING, and I've always found the best way to force people to think is to yank their motherfucking chain. And if it's a guy asking, I'd shoot back with, 'How many times did you shoot jiz across your wife's face?' or 'How many times have you taken it up the ass?' Course they'd get all offended and go, 'That's RUDE,' which is like, yeah.... DUH. What-the-FUCK do you think asking shit like that is? Fucking PATRIOTISM? Goddamned idiots. Okay, you can take it less extreme, they ask dumb shit, you just go, 'Well, how many would you have liked me to have killed?' which they won't get, so you go, 'Five? Ten? Twenty? How about two hundred? Which answer will make YOU feel comfortable with yourself.' It's fucking pointless. It's like a toddler asking his parents how many times they do it. They don't even understand it's their own idiocy and naivite reflected in the mirror. I think I'm going somewhere far, far, faaaaaaaaaar away man. Oh hey Jeff, if your tips include cunnilingus, fellatio, 69ers, teabaggers, whoop-ass, shooters, lickers, stroking and poking, I'm all EARS dude.
Peace out (before I blow another gasket)
Hey Shorty,
I was in a craze when I typed that last one. I didn’t even take the time to sign that rant, but it was me heretic and not Jeff on that last one.
I hate fucking entertaining people. Like I am there god damn living breathing full metal jacket. Everyone likes a good war story unless it starts to get to real for them. I get the I’m sorry I asked look a lot. Guess it isn’t the party conversation they were into?
I try to educate the most folks on what war is really like, but I lose patients fast.
You already are far far away and when you come back you still are far far away. Get used to that. I was going to never touch American soil again at one point. I figured if there was something worth fighting against I would find it here in the US of A. I still could throw in the towel any day and head to New Zealand or something.
Sex helps with anything or everything, and it is highly recommended. I like the part at the moment of deep intimacy when she stares into my eyes and can see how black my soul is and she freaks the fuck out. Maybe I can figure out how to make that into a Halloween costume?
The heretic
Vietnam, the Crusades, Ancient Rome, The Visigoths, you poor bloody buggers. One day you are our precious children and the next off into the surrealism of somebody's war or whatever.
Hang in there ok, and come out saner than them who sent you okay.
Then they who have always sent off youngesters to be killed, to be killers, to shoot, to be shot at, to live under wierd rules... then they will not win.
Its not the people on the other side...they are us. its the bloody leaders and powerbrokers on both sides who are the bloody enemy.
Surviving saner than they (and thats not hard...they are insane) is the only way. Take heart and thanks for your post.
Hey elmohammed,
I was in 2-63AR 1st Infantry. I was stationed at FOB Scunion from February 2004-2005. I often wonder why I get laid so frequently? I guess the crazy vet look is in these days? I am a bit melodramatic, maybe the ladies like that more than you realize? Try it out on your goats and get back to me.
“Embrace the suck” wasn’t that in a movie?
the heretic
Yo elmohammed,
I did crawl through broken glass once actually.
I was a 19Delta, so it wasn’t much fun being in an armor unit. The mortars and us were the only ones pulling the bulk of the hairy missions. I do feel bad for the Tankers that went to Fallujah II.
I went to NATO target interdiction course and worked in a six man sniper team for the majority of my missions. Basically we got a lot of cake missions in the cool nights when most of the battalion was operating in the day. Every once in a while we would stay out for 72 hours.
I don’t feel so bad about legit targets that were dumping one-five-fives by the road side. But every once in a while it was just some dumb muther fucker changing his tire or taking a piss. Or even fucking a goat. I hope he died happy.
Either way I feel that I earned my right to be melodramatic. Melodrama was the BRO standard. I am only in the regs on this I think?
Who was up at Gabe? 2-2 Infantry was at Normandy right? Was that Artillery or Mps? Engineers?
You got any new funny shit on your site yet?
Sorry Timer for using your comments page for our personal back and forth. I will go bug this joker on his own site. peace,
The Heretic
That was excellent fucking writting. I feal glad to be alive.
And anonymous' comment is yet another testimony to your ability to get people to start using the word "fuck" within seconds of contact with you.
That is a fucking super-power man! Up there with X-Ray vision, or flying with a cape. You are "Fuck Man". Avenger of polite ignorance! Rager against the machine!
Thank you "Fuck Man"! I've never even seen your face ;-)
P.S. You've even effected blogger's word verification. My letters: bdsmifu
Hey Snag, thx for checking in man. Yeah, I'm still getting a good kicking.
Been finding it hard to get to the puter. Have a whole clusterfuck of notes all over but posting this shit has been the mother of all bears. Forecast says 99% chance of fuckery, so this will persist. But hey, how bout those MOCRACY wet dreams huh? Is that stuff comin' along smooth as shit or what?!
In the mean, do me a favor. Get laid, get drunk, get high. You can ponder existence through the neck of a bottle as thoroughly as rolled up on your knees banging your head on the floor or with your head bowed and hands clasped listening to some dull fucker read back 2000-year old tribal babble. I've had better communion with the almighty worshipping between thighs than any cathedral I've ever been in. And some. So go get it. Amen.
Ok, so your last post is almost a month old. So, where the fuck are you? What is the cause of the delay? What's the holdup? We need an update.
Nancy
We'll try to be more patient, Short-timer. You are at war, afterall...I think some of us are self-diagnosed American Short-timer Blog Addicts.
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Glad to see the check-in from you in the commentary. Was starting to get worried.
Don't lose the fuckin' notes, okay?
Sorry about the fuckery.
glad your still around. be well.
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