[quote]zecarlo wrote:
[quote]Headhunter wrote:
To all my critics…
You guys do realize I’m talking about killing terrorists? Killing terrorists should be joyful, would chuckle with delight if I got the chance to do it.
[/quote]
Exactly, you are TALKING about it. Call 1-888-550-ARMY and be all you can be. [/quote]
It’s pretty amusing to read the chickenhawk’s (a new word for me) posts.
Here is pretty much the play-by-play of the my last combat experience where I was directly responsible for the deaths of enemy combatants. I’ve actually only written it down once, and it was in a report and considerably shorter and cleaned up.
It was in an urban area. There was an active Intifatda going on, but not street-to-street fighting.
I was a combat engineer responsible for scouting future targets and the best method of disposal of the same. I was in the passenger seat of an unmarked Toyota minivan. (Yeah, Toyota minivan.)
We were MIT or equivalent geeks. One guy had an inhaler with him. This is not exactly a “combat” unit. Five engineers in a van.
I was not wearing a uniform, nor were any of the soldiers with me, although we had our rifles at our feet — mine with a scope because I was the officer. No body armor. No helmets. Tennis shoes. Cargo shorts or khaki pants. (Idea being we would blend in, view, report back.)
I was wearing a Liverpool football jersey, FWIW.
We get call that, about a block from where we were a “reliable source” (which could be a set up or someone pissed at someone) called in a “two or three guys” getting out a Qassam tube (basically a mortor rocket) and setting it up in a play ground with kids.
(For those wondering now, air response was a no-go becauase kids were everywhere (which is why they set it up there – they knew we would not hit it)).
We show up around the corner, look for their spotters — the other guys keep lookign around. Lots of windows. Lots of sniper hidey holes.
We confirm they are, indeed, setting up a Qassam. Two guys, civilian clothes
Here is the play-by-play — total of 8 seconds start to finish. I was to be the shooter.
Me: “Don’t fucking let me get shot” (I was a sitting duck for someone looking at us — my guys looking out for me.)
As casually as one can set up a rifle on the hood of a parked car, I do so, about 50 yards, across the play ground. Kids fucking playing soccer running across the target.
Me: Fuck. It’s the guy in green, yeah.? And white shirt? Yes. Fuck. Figure out my shots. Deep breath. Tense musles. Nothing moves but the trigger finger.
Pop. Pop. Pop. He’s down. Other guy turns around. I can’t find white shirt in the scope and then refocus. He’s looking around trying to figure out what just happpened. Pop. Pop. Pop. He falls.
First guy is face down, but moving. I can’t tell if I even hit him good. Pop. “It’s high” someone yells Pop. Pop. Pop. Head shots top of head (maybe shoulder shots, I don’t fucking know). Pop the other guy because I can see him – somewhere in the lower body.
Kids panicing and hit the ground. Clear field fire now.
Full auto. I spray the shit out of the car with the Qassam next to it. Nothing happens. (Our idea was to disable it, no clue if I did it.)
Pile in the minivan (driver stayed in — had turned car around while I shot). Reload. Magazine is stuck because I put it in backwards.
He drives like a motherfucker. We are all hunched down in the car expected to get mowed down any second.
He stops at a redlight. We fucking all start yelling at him because he is an asshole. He tells us to fuck off.
PA police are at the green light and we let them go by like nothing happened.
We calm down. We drive like nothing happened and arrive safely at our destination.
I fill out paperwork. We turn in the paperwork on what we saw for targets. We eat and go to sleep completely drained.
That’s real war with terrorists, folks.
Nothing fucking glorified about it.