Memoirs written in prose of Sergeant Robertson, Damon M. USMC while in Iraq | ...with frequent appearances of King Hammurabi.
If you are new to this journal, make sure to start reading in chronological order by scrolling down to the bottom of the oldest post in October 2004. Damon's letters from August 20th, 2004 - October 23rd, 2004 were all added to this blog on Oct. 23rd, 2004. All subsequent letters are posted in real time.
Saturday, October 23, 2004
ADDRESS INFORMATION
Dear Family and Friends: We have lost our flight window. I have looked everywhere, even enlisting the aid of my junior Marines, in order to discover any evidence that might lead to said window's relocation, but as of yet all efforts have proved fruitless. [For those of you who are new to my sarcasm, NO, a flight window is not actually a piece of glass, but a series of days in which a flight is set to depart. Our flight, you know, the one that was supposed to take us on our all-expense paid trip to Iraq, has been kanked (cancelled, not to be confused with "ganked," as in "stolen"] So far this week I have learned the following: The turf directly outside the airbase we are being sent to is VERY hostile. In the past four months the instances of ambushes and IED's has been greater there than anywhere else in Iraq. Also, occasional rocket attacks hit the base. :) A new order has been issued by top Marine brass: any hostile action, be it explosive or mortar or RPG or sniper fire, is to be dealt with in swift and unmitigated counter-attack. I think the idea we're trying to get accross is "don't mess with the Marines, cuz, like, you'll die." The army has a "don't get your lace underwear dirty" approach to convoys that makes them easier targets. You can pop shots at the army, because they don't dismount their vehicles and Blow You Up. They're an easier target and so far, as we've been told at least, militants captured by Marines keep swearing "we didn't know you were Marines... we thought you were the army..." >:D I guess during the first gulf war Saddam had told his people that, in order to become a US Marine, an American youth had to kill a member of his immediate family. ?? I guess that was supposed to harden their hearts against us? Too bad they just ended up peeing themselves when they saw "the black boots" come around the bend (you see, the Marines of DS1 didn't have the nifty army budget to buy the suede desert boots, so we wore our black boots, which aren't all that great in the heat, but they're all we had... it just made us more distinct to the enemy, and somehow, in a good way). Enough history. The bottom line is I still don't have an address, and as of today, no idea when I'm actually going to be leaving. For those of you in the bay area, please pray that my liberty boundary will be extended so I can visit you this weekend (we have an extended weekend because of the holiday). I'm going to go buy a big knife. They won't let me carry a pistol (which I can peal an orange with, incidentally) so I'm going to get a knife that makes Rambo look like, well, Silvester Stallone. ...movie stars... :D
# posted by chevas @ 7:22 PM 