September 28, 2003
Jackass Goes to War
Over the weeks, a rhythm has developed. Sleep late to avoid the heat. Try to eat an MRE. Drink water and lots of it. Smoke fake Marlboros from the Haji stand and wait for something to happen, anything. A patrol. An escort. An OP.
I spend most of my time with the younger soldiers--this film could be called "Jackass Goes to War". Some of these guys aren’t even old enough to legally drink in the States, yet when they roll, they rule the streets. Some of them had never left their home states before they joined the army and now they are here, a world apart from their friends at home.
Their response is a peculiar brand of humor.
SPC Wilf was standing by the TOC the other day with a handwritten letter sized card that said:
“Ask me if I am a Tree.”
Like an idiot, I asked him.
“That’s the stupidest frigging question I’ve heard all day,” was his reply.
Luckily, an officer walked by a few minutes later and was coaxed into asking the same question. He got the same answer and I felt redeemed.
Wilf=Yossarian. I can easily imagine him building a raft to float his way out of here down the Tigris.
