Question!! What's all the fuss!!!

Are we fighting a war on terror or aren't we? was it or was it not started by Islamic people who brought it to our shores on September 11, 2001? were people from all over the world, MOSTLY AMERICANS, Not brutally murdered that day, in downtown Manhattan, across the Potomac from our nation's capitol and in a field in Pennsylvania? Did nearly three thousand men, women and children die a horrible, burning or crushing death that day, OR DIDN'T THEY??? AND I'm supposed to care that a copy of the KORAN was "desecrated" when an overworked soildier Kicked it or got it wet, I don't. I don't care at all....
I'll start caring when Osama Bin Laden turns himself in and repents for incinerating all those innocent people on 9/11. I'll start caring when all the fanatics in the middle east start caring about the HOLY BIBLE, The mere possession of which is a crime in Saudi Arabia. I'll care when Abu MUSAB Al-Zarqawi tells the world he is sorry for hacking off Nick Berg's head while Berg screamed through his gurging slashed throat. I'll start when the cowardly so-called "insurgents" in Irag come out and fight like men instead of disrespecting their own religion by hiding in mosques.I'll start caring when the mindless Zealots who blew themselves up in search of Nirvana care about the innocent children within range of their suicide bombs...I'll care when the American media stops pretending that their first Amendment Liberties are somehow derived from international law instead of the United States Constitution's BILL OF RIGHTS....
In the meantime, when I hear a story about a brave marine roughing up an Iraqi terrorist to obtain information, know this:
I DON'T CARE... When I see a fuzzy photo of a pile of naked Iraqi prisoners who have been humiliated in what amounts to college hazing incident,rest assured that I DON'T CARE... When I see a wounded terrorist get shot in the head when he is told not to move because he might be booby-trapped, you can take it to the bank that I DON"T CARE....When I hear that a prisoner, who was issued a Koran and a prayer mat, and fed "special" food that is paid for by my tax dollars, is complaining that his holy book is being "mishandled," you can sbsolutely believe in your heart of hearts that I DON"T CARE....
And oh, by the way, I've noticed that sometimes it's spelled "Koran" and other times "Quran," well JIMMY CRACK CORN
AND....you guessed it... I DON'T CARE!!!!!

DWB

Boonie Rat Song

I landed in this country
one year of life to give
My only friend a weapon
my only prayer, to live
I walked away from freedom
And the life that I had known
I passed the weary faces
of the others going home.
BOONIE RATS, BOONIE RATS
Scared but not alone
300 days more or less
Then I'll be going home
yea I'll be going home
The first few days were hectic
as they psyched my mind for war
I often get the feeling
they're trying to tie the score
The first day with my unit
we climbed a two click hill
to find an enemy soldier
to capture, wound,or kill
BOONIE RATS. BOONIE RATS
scared but not alone.
200 days more or less
then I'm going home
The air was hot and humid
the ground was hard and dry
ten times I cursed my rucksack
and wished that I could die I
learned to look for danger
In the trees and on the ground
I learned to shake with terror
When I hear an A-K round
BOONIE RATS, BOONIE RATS
scared but not alone
100 days more or less
then I'm going home
(Skyhawks) is our motto
(Airborne) is our cry
Freedom is our mission
for this we do or die
Boonie Rats a legend
for now and times to come,
Wherever there are soldiers
they'll talk of what we've done.
BOONIE RATS. BOONIE RATS
scared but not alone
50 days more or less
then I'm going home
They say there'll always be a war
I hope they're very wrong
to the Boonie Rats of Vietnam
I dedicate this song
BOONIE RATS, BOONIE RATS
scared but not alone
today I see my freedom bird
Today, I'm going home

Rules of War

After the battle you wipe away the mud and the blood, took out your dead and wounded. Then the emotions come out and you began to think about the next time. Because combat is the dark and brutal heart of war where soldiers come face to face on the killing grounds. Combat is the maker of heroes and cowards and all colors of characters in between, it has been called mans ultimate experience. It certainly has been an experience that I will never forget. Combat is noisy, confusing, and very scary. If a man says that he's not scared in a combat situation, he's either a fool or a lier. Combat in Vietnam seems to hold an extra measure of fear and confusion because it was so often fought at close quarters in dense vegetation with a frequently invisible enemy. Much has been written about the big battles of the Vietnam war, like the 1968 tet battle of Saigon and Hue, and the siege of Kae-Sanh and the fight for hamburger hill, but those were exceptional in Vietnam. Day to day war was fought by small groups of soldiers in small places, nameless battlegrounds where the fight was very close, intense and deadly. In the military there is a rule to live by especially in a war zone: Never stand when you can sit, Never sit when you can lie down, Never stay awake if you can sleep because you never know when your next chance will come. And the first rule of combat is: "KEEP YOUR ASS DOWN", stay low and get whatever you can between yourself and the guys who are shooting at you. When the enemy rounds are coming in, there no such thing as too much cover. I recall when we came under small arms fire, the lieutenant and I took cover behind some wooden crates, Lt. muttered to me, "you realize of course, that if these crates were filled with corn flakes we would be in a world of trouble, "I replied," At least they're not filled with live explosives! "LT.said "You do have a good point there." Going out into the field in Vietnam could mean a number of things, none of them easy or pleasant. The field was where the war was, where CHARLIE was, and we, the soldiers of the RED DEVIL BRIGADE, went out to find him and fight him. Depending on what kind of outfit you were in, the way to go into the field might be by air, on a boat, in a wheeled or tracked vehicles. We were infantry mechanized, sometimes we road on top of the APC.(armored personnel carriers), but that was a little dangerous, so we used our own two feet to get the job done. We, the grunts, called it humping the boonies. Hauling a heavy combat load through rice fields, across rivers, up steep hills and mountains, through jungles and elephant grass, in mud, sand, or dust, under a cruel sun or in a monsoon rain. Sometimes it was a walk in the sun, a Sunday drive, but no one called it that until the unit was back at base camp, because at any point, any number of bad things could happen. At every step were the myriad dangers of Vietnam, ambush, boobytraps, landmines, snipers. Many combat infantry soldiers like myself were sent into the field on their first day in Vietnam and rarely left it until they went home. We spent virtually our entire tour humping the boonies or setting up night ambushes and could count on our fingers the numbers of nights we slept on something as luxurious as a folding cot. The army brass called us the ultimate weapon. "INFANTRYMAN" The one who does the dirty work of war. The uniforms and the weapons have changed, but the job of the foot soldier has changed hardly at all. We are the ones who have to muck it out with the enemy at close range, the ones who ultimately conquer and hold or lose the real estate. In Vietnam, the foot soldiers picked up a new nickname, (GRUNTS) whether in the field with a squad or a platoon or even a battalion, the combat soldier could feel very much alone in the thick jungle and tall grasses. One of the loneliest and spookiest jobs in the army was walking point in Vietnam. It was a tough job but we are the Infantry, the Grunts, The life line of the army. The job of the infantry is to move forward, to attack, whether it means crossing an open field, inching up a battlescarred hill, or penetrating the thick jungles where visibility was only a yard or two.
CARRY ON!!!!
DWB

Images of War

When I went to Vietnam in 1969, I had already been seeing vivid images of the war for a couple of years, since I knew in my heart that it was just a matter of time before I would be jolnlng the army to help stop the spread of communism. To be honest, the only thing I knew about Vietnam was what I saw on the evening news and what I read in newspapers and magazines. I would watch as McNamara explained the bombings and as Johnson reviewed the troops and visited the wounded, but it was my daily hometown newspaper that showed endless scenes of troops in combat as well as shots of unfortunate civilian victims. l caught glimpses of Iife in the bush, along perimeters, in the rear, in and out of helicopters. I saw soldiers, young,very young, black, white, hispanic, happy, sad, hurt, afraid, laughing, crying, going and coming from Vietnam. When I got to Vietnam, l saw many more images that were not provided through the media or military sources. I still recall clearly my first week in the 'Nam with my new company In Quan Tri Province, No Vietnam. Bravo Company, 1st BDE, 5| INF. DIV.(mech). The battalion was sent on a search and clear mission in enemy held territory|. Our company encountered a formidable mass of enemy scattered among the hedgerows and bamboo thickets. The enemy initiated a massive attack which pinned down most of our unit. In a heroic effort to relieve the pressure, 1st Lt. Abernathy, (never will forget that guy), led the platoon, myself included, in a charge up the steep hill, where we overran three mortar installations. During the assault, Lt. Abernathy personally shot and killed three NVA soldiers at point blank range. What a guy! After reconciling his platoon, he pressed on. We'd covered about 200 meters when all hell broke out. The fire was so severe it deterred our advance. Quick evaluation revealed a single, well camoflauged battlement from which the enemy automatic weapon salves erupted. The Lt. directed the firing of a light anti-tank weapon on the position. Then if that's not enough, braving hazardous barrages of sniper fire, he, myself and two other men assaulted the bunker. Lt. Abe, as he preferred to be called, received the DSC (Distinguished Service Cross), our nations second highest award that day and I received the best damn 1st leiutenant the army had to offer. I knew in some kind of strange way that l would make it through my first tour In Vietnam. Thank you Lt. Abe for all you did for your men and for your country!

The Nam

I went to Viet Nam because my country sent me there. I did the job I was sent there to do. I have to say, I have or still do experience disorders. I saw many of my friends killed in "The Nam". Every time I went on a combat mission with a different platoon, I would make new friends with guys I hadn't seen before. And let me tell you straight up...When you see a friend get shot up, blown up and killed day and night, it does something to your mind. It's like a permanent photo in your head. You never forget the tears, the blood and the horror of seeing your buddy dying right in front of you. And there's nothing you can do about it. Those scenes will live with me forever. I guess that's why it's taken me nearly 37 years to even be able to talk about Viet Nam.
I've never told this to anyone until now. I have an emotional disorder that I cannot control no matter how hard I try. I have nightmares about the war in Viet Nam. I'm always being chased by the VC (Viet Cong).I wake up sometimes sweating and screaming. I have woke up before sitting on a big rock in the middle of the woods waiting for the VC to show up so I could fight and kill them! That was why my 3rd wife divorced me. Bless her heart, she just couldn't take it anymore which I completely understand. My first two wives felt the same way. Hell, I woke up once sitting in our bay window with a rifle in my hands. I go through stages of severe depression. I cry when I see terrible war scenes from Nam or any war. Needles to say, I don't watch them anymore. Hell, I cry sometimes when I see any kind of sad scenes on TV. I've even cried over happy TV or movie scenes.That is messed up, but I just can't help it.
You know, I hate the fourth of July because the fireworks make me jump for cover. It's so sad that all those brave soldiers, young, old, black and white, were killed and wounded in Viet Nam. For what? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I know that I was exposed to agent orange, but not as bad as some of my buddies. I'm aware that I suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) because of my experience in "The Nam". I also know that the very same government who sent me over there does not care one bit about me. It's been 37 years and I have never received a dime from the government. I called their stress hotline one time and told the guy that I was going to kill myself. The bastard actually hung up on me. That is a true story, I swear. Ask my 4th wife.
I've always tried to live a normal life in spite of the stress and depression I was going through. I don't talk about what is wrong with me because most people either don't believe me or they just don't care. I may look healthy, but I'm a sick man. Don't get me wrong, I'm not asking for sympathy. A little understanding is all I want or need. It's taken a lot of hard work on my part and a strong faith in God and myself, but I know I will make it. What helps me the most is my kids and grandkids and my 5th (and final) wife, little Deb. Thank God she loves me and understands what I'm going through.