Wednesday, March 26, 2008

Lines

Lines


In this society, I live in lines.

Lines keep everything in order.

I line up for my breakfast to start my day.

I line up for the latrines so I can do my morning hygiene practices.

I line up to exercise my big breakfast off my waist.
I line up to catch the HUMVEE to work.

I line up to get my health care benefits.

I line up in the SCUD bunker for accountability.

I line up for the Port-a-Potties to get rid of breakfast.

I line up for the Postal Office to send letters home.

I line up to get in my war wagon,

to scour the dirty garbage filled alleys looking for Terrorists.

I line up the dead bodies for identification.

Then if I am lucky, I line up to go home.

If not I will be lined up for my comrades,

to pay their last respects.

Any way you look at it,

I live in Lines.

Wayne Smith 2008

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

An Old Exercise: Run for your Life

Boom . . . Boom
Mortars falling
Run into the bunker
Hope to GOD it stops raining Death
Boom . . . Boom!

Wayne Smith 2008

An Old Exercise: Run for your Life

An Old Exercise: Run for your Life

Boom . . . Boom
Mortars falling
Run into the bunker
Hope to GOD it stops raining Death
Boom . . . Boom!

Wayne Smith 2008

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

Five Years After the Shock and Awe Campaign

Five Years After the Shock and Awe Campaign


We came with superior technology and ripped through the country; like a tornado going through a trailer park. The Pentagon Staff was so proud of delivering the death knell to yet another tyrant’s dream.
Did it matter that none of the 19 who rang our alarm bells in New York, Pennsylvania or Washington, D.C. were from this country? No, it was a political war to appease the people of the land.
Did they care who paid for the damage to our shores? No, not really, the people demanded that the politicians do something to get back at the terrorists. Swinging at shadows was the only thing that we really accomplished.
So, the politicians and speechwriters when through the motions, like their counterparts did in World War II and blamed someone they did not like for the troubles that had been heaped upon the people. Although like most wars that are fought by the military, the civilian leaders start them and the military is blamed for them. No forethought is given to the aftermath and rebuilding the death and destruction of the nation that we bent to our will. Or to the healing that we have to do after the war is over.
Yes, it is true that this war has been relatively small in the history of wars. After five long years, we have only lost less than 4,000 troops. We have had more civilians working in the combat zone than any other war. This was a first in wars because we had the press reporting on every step that we took over there.
Did you know the press is actually responsible for some of the deaths that occurred in the zone due to their sensationalism? The terrorist use the press for their advantage and the press does not care because it sells.
You need to ask your self why the press has not reported on the good things that are done over there by the individual troops. For example, I bet you do not know how many schools, clinics and hospitals have been constructed for those people. I am even willing to bet that you do not know how many kilometers of roads have been built. Or did you know that the troops have rebuilt most bridges that we have destroyed. I am even willing to bet that the “news” has not reported that the terrorist have destroyed these new bridges to subjugate their own people. The news organizations only report what they think you should know, not the whole truth. Otherwise you would know that the normal Iraqi people are glad that the Coalition troops are protecting their interests and not to enslave them.
You probably think that the military cannot defend itself from these terrorist. You are absolutely correct in that assumption. The reason they cannot is a simple fact of political correctness. The military is not allowed to fire back on terrorist targets if they are in the middle of a group of civilians when they fire their mortars or missiles at our bases. The politicians are getting involved again like Vietnam (another war they got us in, but would not allow us to fight the right way). This involvement will cost more deaths that are American young men.
History repeats itself for those who do not learn from it. Most politicians use history to get what they want by manipulating the information, but they never really learn from history.
American is great because we were given the opportunity to have something no other nation has been given, land for the taking. Land is what gives man a chance to change his destiny. Land gives the chance to be free and do what you want. With land you are part of the nation. If another nation tries to take your land away from you, you and yours will fight to the death to keep it. That is what makes Americans mighty. Yet, our way of life cannot be duplicated anywhere else on this planet. Why because the common man could get land and keep it.
I will leave this with one additional thought; this is an election year, do you really know the representative that you want to lead this great country?

Wayne Smith - 2008

Thursday, March 13, 2008

The Nightmare

The Nightmare

It starts off innocent enough; you are dreaming that you are back in the Sand Box. You are riding in your old HUMVEE through one of a thousand little villages. Today the ride is different; you see blue skies, green fields of barley on the right side of the HUMVEE and small kids yelling for candy on the left side. Jose, the “Ma Duce” gunner is tossing candy to the kids as you pass by. Just as you start to relax, you spot a box on the side of the rode. You try to yell a warning, but your world explodes. The kids that were yelling for candy are being blown into hamburger chunks. You immediately jerk down Jose, but half his head is gone. Another explosion erupts just in front of the HUMVEE causing it to flip backwards onto its top. Scrambling to get out of the vehicle, you see two Iraqi men start shooting at you from twenty feet away. The rounds hitting all around you and ricocheting off the armor of the HUMVEE scare you into believing that you are going to die today. What a waste of a beautiful day you think as you start firing your M-4 rifle. “ZING . . . ZING . . . Ratatatatata!” Your body armor is hung up on something that you cannot see. You are struggling with it as you fire on the two men that are trying to kill you. Finally, you see the one on the right flip backwards as his head explodes and showers his buddy with blood and brains. War isn’t like the movies. It is a messy and terrifying ordeal. Just as the last bad guy that was shooting at you gets hit and goes down, another kid pops up with an RPG-7 Grenade Launcher. You get two shots off at him and your rifle goes silent. You do your quick reaction drills, just to find out you are out of ammo. “Oh SHIT!” You hear a whoosh and look up just in time to see a RPG grenade flying straight at you. You must have been screaming, because you wake up to find a nurse shaking you. “Are you okay?” She asks. With your heart beating a hundred miles an hour, you just say, “Yea I’m okay! It was just a bad dream a nightmare.”
As you lie in bed, you see your artificial legs standing next to the wall, you wonder, “Was that the nightmare or is this it?”

© Wayne Smith 2008

Wednesday, March 5, 2008

I AM

I AM

I am the shadow of the moon less night.
I am the hawk who swoops from above to snatch my prey.
I am the ghostly filament that passes you in the fog.
I am here yet there,
near yet far,
fire yet ice . . .
Yes, I am all of these,
and yet
I am also a father, proud of his own.
(C) Wayne Smith, 2008

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

Marching to a Different Drummer

Marching to a different drummer

Ever since I could recall anything, I have known that I do things differently. When the group goes one way because it is what everyone else is doing, I find another way to go, just because.
Most kids my age in the late fifties and early sixties were enjoying their friends they have known since birth. I, on the other hand, had lived in lived in three different states, plus a year in France. My father was in the Air Force and we traveled. I was the kid everyone talked about, but did not talk to because I was the new kid. I never got to know my teachers, because I normally only spent one year at a time in the same area.
I learned at a very young age how to lose friends. To this date, I still only have two real friends. Oh, don’t get me wrong I have tons of “geographical friends” around the world, but only two real friends. “Geographical Friends” are people that you love to be around and would do anything for while they are with you, but they never stay or you never stay in the area.
In 1971 I joined the Army. Although this was not a very popular thing to do, I did not care; I had to do my own thing. You see, most of my friends were trying to avoid the ‘War’, some were successful others were not. Some of those that didn’t avoid the ‘War’ ever had the chance to come back. Those that did were changed forever. They saw too much to comprehend or found out that they could not really talk about their time over there. When you can not talk about what you did or what you saw, people have a tendency to avoid you. Why, because they thing you are different. So when I saw a classmate sitting across from me in the dinning facility in Riyadh, Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, I thought “What the hell is he doing here?” I knew he did not go into the military until after the war, but I never thought he was cut out for the long haul. Yet, here he sat having breakfast with me some fifteen years later and a half a world away. After talking with him for an extensive time, I found out that he stayed in the military because he did not fit into the “normal” civilian life anymore. Whereas, I knew that I never fitted in with the “civilian” world.
You see my life revolves a life of exploring the world as it is. Not as it is portrayed in books. You can never understand a society by reading a book about it. You must live in it. You must let it permeate your very being. So, unlike my counterparts in civilian life, I study life by living life in all it glory and horror.
You have learned that a picture is worth a thousand words, but I would like to add to that saying with this, “a smell is worth a thousand pictures or memories.”
© Wayne Smith 2008