Monday, June 15, 2009

War Letters: Part 17

February 18, 1991

In the desert near the Kuwait border, Saudi Arabia

Dear Lynda:

Hello baby! How are you? I’m fine.

Sorry I haven’t written in a few days, but we’ve been real busy moving and setting in at our new site. As usual, I can’t tell you where we are, but we are getting VERY close!

Now, we can actually see the flames from the burning oil wells and the B-52 strikes. Outgoing artillery and rocket fire almost vibrates us out of our boots.

I found one of the surrender leaflets that we drop on the Iraqis. I’ve seen many other types.

When we weren't dropping cluster-bombs on their asses, we were dropping these leaflets on the Iraqis to convince them to surrender. There were many different variations of the leaflets, but this is the only one I brought home with me. If you can read Arabic, you now know the proper and prudent procedures for surrendering to coalition forces!

Two or three days ago we heard that Saddam was willing to abide by the UN sanctions and pull out of Kuwait. We were all hooping with joy, thinking the war might be over and we’d be going home soon.

Then, we heard Saddam wanted all kinds of conditions, and that Bush said, “Fuck you.”

We should have figured it was too good to be true. So, I guess things are going as planned as far as the ground attack goes.

We also heard that the King of Saudi Arabia wants to pay $20,000 to each service member over here. At first, of course, Bush said, “No way. We are not mercenaries.”

Then, the King said he’d be insulted if Bush didn’t accept. Moslems take it as a big slap in the face if you don’t accept their offerings.

So, now I guess the whole thing is up before Congress.

The King said if the US didn’t accept, that he would personally pay every service member at the airport on our way home. I really don’t see it happening! Congress will find some way of screwing us out of the money. I’m not even thinking about holding my hopes up on this one!

You should see how we’re living now. Dogs live better than this!

Since we’re so close to the front, we have to sleep in holes.

Stratton and I share a hole. It’s about four feet deep and plenty big enough that we can stretch out and lay down. Got canvas and ponchos for our roof, and a sand bag berm around the outside. It’s home, but not home sweet home. It rained last night and we stayed pretty dry.

The communication system is pretty much good to go now, so Wire Platoon will hopefully have some slack time for a while. We usually have to work our asses off the first two or three days at a new position.

Everybody and their mother needs a personal phone or hot-line installed. They are too lazy to walk to the tent next door to bullshit with their buddies.

Our bosses told us that we’re not going to give every Staff Sergeant Joe Schmoe a phone just because they want one. But, our bosses are spineless pogues, and are too afraid to say no to anyone.

I forgot to tell you that General Schwarzkopf came to our last camp. It was all bullshit, of course. We had to clean up and make the battlefield look pretty for the bastard, and I never even saw the fucker!

They even had a bunch of us do a “police call” on a big piece of desert! I expected them to tell us to rake the sand as well.

Schwarzkopf’s visit was what we call a “dog and pony show.”

…Lots of fancy displays, blinking lights, and ringing bells…but of no use and no purpose!

Well baby, I think I’ll go for now. I really don’t have anything else to do, but I can’t think of anything else to tell you either.

Take care and stay warm back there in Indiana. Sure wish I was there!

I love you a lot, extremely, a bunch, shit loads, severely, …etc.!

See you soon!

Love and Semper Fi!


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