A Grunt’s Memoirs
The man was right.
After they finished with me, they told me to kill and I did.
My first murder, in cold blood, was an old bitch. She was already too old to live much longer. But it still gave me nightmares … so did my second murder.
But after my third killing, those awful nightmares stopped.
After my twelfth murder … I was … I was a psychopath, they later told me at the VA.
I enjoyed killing people. The more outrageous and unjust the murders were, the more I felt something. A man without any conscience craves feelings … any kinda feelings.
I killed for some feelings. I lost count at 165 kills, but I guess it’s been a bunch.
I’m not asking for a pity party. All I wanted in Iraq was to continue murdering without anyone but my handlers in intelligence … my cover … and my comrades knowing about it.
Have you heard of all the soldiers, the thousands of soldiers, who rotate to stateside and then kill themselves? Their problem was they just didn’t take enough of the hundreds of drugs we’re issued to carry in our backpacks.
With enough of those drugs in your system, a grunt would shoot up his own mother … I mean riddle her sorry fat ass ... or scrawny ass … as the case may be … with three sets of three M14-7.62x51 mm NATO round bursts.
And if you felt bad about it the next day, the solution was always easy. It’s the drugs they kept us supplied with.
As a matter of fact, a GI can get his dirty ass in a sling if he’s caught not taking those mighty fine drugs. Who knows what there’re for. Some of them are to sleep, others to wake up. And others are just for happy times. Without any directions from doctors, me and the other guys just reached into our pockets and threw down four or five of them, whatever they were, whenever we needed them.
Those slippery little bastards really worked. We needed ‘em over there. I have often wonder how those old farts in WW II went without ‘em.
By the way, I’ve heard about how horrible it is for us ground troops to have to serve a second, third, or fourth tour in country. For people like me, it wasn’t horrible at all. I always wanted it … I still want it. I need it. Where else can I plunder … rape … and … kill with impunity?
Impunity? It’s a word I learned from Dr. Goldblatt at the VA … I love it.
The ignorant punks from the hood really loved it too. They liked to kill children walking on the roads as they passed them in transport vehicles.
They’d splatter them red to the loud noises of their gangsta rap from the back ends of their trucks.
I can say what I wanta say ain’t nothing to it gangsta rap made me do it.
If I call you a nigga ain’t nothing to it gangsta rap made me do it.
I can act like an animal ain’t nothing to it gangsta rap made me do it.
If I eat you like a cannibal ain’t nothing to it gangsta rap made me do it.
Well, that used to be easy to do, but not any more. And it ain’t from any pressure from on high. There’s just not many kids on the roads these days. Did we kill ‘em all … or do they just stay off the roads? Come to think of it … I hardly ever saw many kids on my third tour … and the ones I did see looked like they were already dead. We didn’t need to shoot ‘em … just let ‘em starve for another day.
I’m sure you’ve heard all that cock and bull from the TV about how we are making those raghead countries safe for democracy. That’s a damn joke. We’re puttin’ the Arabs into the next world with our genocide … and we should. We ought to kill every goddamn sand-nigger on the planet.
What good is democracy anyway, when your home has been blown to pieces, you have no electricity, your drinkin’ water is filthy, there’s no food, and your children are sick and starving?
And because of all the DU we sprayed all over that pissant country, the whole damned place is a radioactive wasteland anyway.
And, I’ve been told there’s no way of cleaning it up and that the half-life of DU is about 4.5 billion years, whatever that is.
Anyway, this guy has cancer, like I do. But wait there’s more. His wife also got cancer, as did the three kids they had. One of ‘em is already dead, another has some kind of bad defect, plus the wife had a miscarriage.
The doctors at the VA keep telling me that I didn’t get cancer from the DU in Iraq. But I trust them about as much as the CIA guys in Iraq who always wanted reports from us about how many civilians we had killed that day.
And, I’ll guarantee you it was the CIA and Mossad who set out all the roadside bombs that blew up our trucks or sniped at us from hiding places. A war has gotta have some casualties, especially when there’s no army to fight. This so called terrorist bullshit is perfect for never ending warfare.
One son of a bitchin’ doctor at the VA told me that drugs along with behavior modification killing people makes psychopaths, and the only job I was even fit for in the states was to become a cop.
He must have known I was a cop before I lost fifty-five pounds and all my hair with cancer.
I got a few kills with Tasers but never with the satisfaction I used to get with my ole M14. I loved to see a body knocked into the air or see a head explode with a shower of blood.
Those were the days when I was somebody … somebody powerful. Now look at me, after all I’ve done for this rotten goddam country.
I now watch about twelve hours of television a day. I especially like pro football … and the Boston Pats.
A guy at the VA told me the games are fixed by the officials; but I don’t care, even if the owners make more money by betting against their own teams than they get in TV revenues.
Anyway, don’t tell any dumb-assed American the games are fixed, they’ll think ya a nut.
The ignorant bastards actually think all these college football players and basketball players are actually students. Man, those guys don’t even go to classes; they’re so stupid they can’t even read a comic book.
I might not be all that smart, but I’ve read a couple of Classic Comics in my day. I was told in school that I had a learning disability, which they tried to fix with some drugs. That’s when I first got hooked on drugs.
Anyway, America is just one racket after another, all controlled by the big guys who will never have to personally kill anybody … they get idiots like me to do it for them.
But what I really dig about the TV football games is the fact they’re always honoring us war heroes.
The poor bastards in the Viet Nam war had to face an actual army of well-equipped and trained soldiers. But they got no respect.
The media tells Americans what to think and how to think. And I’ll be damned if they don’t do it the fools. If the media told the public to hate today’s war vets they would. They got no mind of their own.
But one thing that really gripes my royal ass is all this Donate to Cancer bullshit I hear when watching the games. None of that money actually goes into cancer research. Where does it go? If you don’t know, you wouldn’t believe the truth.
An old vet at the VA once told me they already had a cure for cancer, but they’re keeping it a secret for population reduction.
He had a brother-in-law who was a doctor in cancer research at M. D. Anderson, in Houston. The doctor told him he could never get any grant money unless in his grant papers he said he was going to research an area that had already been proven to be a dry hole.
He also said that they’re purposely causing cancer with all their leaking atomic energy reactors around the world … and all that atomic testing they’ve been doing since the 1940s.
I reminded him about all the DU we’ve spread in the Middle Eastern wars. He said that stuff gets into the trade winds and radiates the entire world.
He also said the Pacific Ocean was almost dead from the Fukushima tsunami accident, which was no accident. He said the tsunami was set off by a baby nuke offshore in the Pacific. You hear a lot of stuff at the VA.
There’s another guy (who’s about dead) that comes to the VA who is an expert on the inside job of 9/11. If the old fool wasn’t already half dead, there are three guys I know, who would break his jaw and knock out his teeth.
But I will say, he seems to know a lot of stuff … seems to have the facts, all except one. He’s been trying to tell us that a third skyscraper, a long way from the two that fell, also fell without any airplanes hitting it just a few hours later.
One thing that’s good about these televised football games is all the publicity the U.S. military gets.
What this country needs is a lot more young people to follow in the footsteps of real Americans … like me.
Note: The above is not an actual testimonial. It is an account of what the author believes to be going on with our Middle Eastern wars.
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