So it finally came down. The biggest bag of ass in the history of the war in AssCrackIstan. Well top 5 at least.
Let me say this first, if in the next few weeks you don’t see a lot of posts, don’t get worried. I already have my cousin tasked out with posting my “Death Letter” in the event of my premature demise. So unless you see that don’t get your panties in a bunch.
Secondly, here’s what’s going on. We have to move. I know that I told you that already, but we have to move someplace new. Someplace that is the epitome of suck. But we’ll get to that later. Suffice it to say, that the next few months of my life are either going to be very interesting or the most uneventful ever.
So sometime in the next week or so, depending on the weather, we’ll be moving out of Waza Khwa. Where are we going? Khost and Paktya. Look those up on the internet, I’m sure you’ll have a lot of fun with that. I sure as hell did. Those are the provinces that we have to go to anyway, where we are actually going is anyone’s guess. I am pretty sure that the guys who are in charge of this clusterfuck don’t even know where the hell we are going. I can’t help but envision some general sitting behind his mahogany desk with some lieutenant standing there with a map of Afghanistan on his head, and the general just launching darts with my company’s name on it at said map.
Well, why are we leaving? Once again, I don’t know for sure but I’ll give you what we know thus far. There are these teams here, they are called ETT’s. Or Embedded Training Teams. Their job is to basically live and work with the local police and military units and teach them how to be cops and soldiers. Now given the fact that I am a military policeman I’ll give you three guesses which one of those we are going to be living and working with. Yep, the cops, and good Lord do I ever hate cops. They have always pissed me off, always saying things that are such a buzz kill. Things like, “Put down that television, you’re under arrest.” or “Stop or I’ll shoot.” You know shit like that.
Like I said, we have to go up to Khost and Paktya and hunker down and live with these pricks and teach them how to be coppers. Fun for us. However, this will offer us a whole new level of autonomy. Which, anyone who has ever been in the military knows, is a good thing. You can never be far enough away from your higher chain of command. But that autonomy comes with drawbacks. The farther away you get, the less support you can get. Basically, you are on your own.
So we are going to head out to some remote COP, which if you have been keeping up is nothing more than a baby FOB. It’ll be a FOB when it grows up but for the time being it has to learn by being a COP. I wish I could tell you more, but I don’t know any more. I guess I’ll just have to write as we go, and post it all at once when we get to wherever the hell it is we are going. I am pretty sure that this is a case of some asshole up in headquarters, who was trying to put together an engine, only when he was done he had a whole bunch of important looking parts left over, and now he is trying to figure out where the hell they go! But that’s just my opinion.
Moving on, there has been absolutely nothing going on here for what seems like an eternity but is probably only like a few days. Other than the new guys getting stuck every 10 feet, not a damn thing has been going on. Lazy days, if there is such a thing in the army. More like, leaders make up shit for your soldiers to do, and soldiers invent new and creative reasons not to do it, or soldiers find new and inventive places to hide so that the leaders cannot tell you what it is they made up for you to do.
But at least last night we got to tape up some trash and set it on the platoon daddy’s doorstep, then we knocked and ran away. Kind of an Afghani deployment version of ding-dong-ditch. Don’t try to pretend you never played that game when you were a kid. So what if I’m thirty, my maturity level is roughly that of a fifteen year old horn dog, so what the hell.
Here’s what we did. So one of our chicks was walking through our barracks, she decided to take and give one of our GI’s a titty twister, or a purple nurple, if you know what I mean.
Side note: For those of you who don’t know, a titty twister or a purple nurple is when one person grasps the nipple of another person between their thumb and forefingers, squeezes tightly, and twists in either a clockwise or counter-clockwise direction, causing intense pain to the recipient. This is also how doctors and medical professionals check for responsiveness in comatose and unconscious patients. The pain level borders on unbearable. In addition, this act has been known to cause vicious bruising in the areola area, giving rise to the moniker “purple nurple” Referencing the color of said nipple after completion of the act, and using a combination of the words, purple and nipple.
And we’re back. So she gives this guy a titty twister, and given the military’s rather draconian rules about sexual harassment and shit, he couldn’t give it back. I truly hate that shit. Maybe I’m wrong, it’s possible. But I would never, ever hit or harm a woman...first. And I certainly would never abuse a woman, and if you met some of the women that I have dated and/or married in my life you might wonder how I was able to control myself. I mean any woman who would sock you, deserves to get a knuckle sandwich. I don’t understand that sentiment, that women are above getting hit. I was always taught never to start fights, I was taught to finish them. I don’t know where I heard it but someone once said, “Hey if she’s big enough to hit, then she’s big enough to get hit back!” The same principle applies here. She gives titty twister, she should be prepared for one in return. C’mon ladies, if you want equality, let’s get serious!
Alright, enough of that. That was my political statement for today. So anyway, she tries to get out of the barracks before we get a hold of her, but she fails...epically. We shut both doors, lock them and start to close in on her. (I know it sounds creepy, but it’s not) We grab her, by her arms and legs, and throw her down on one of the beds. (Alright, now its starting to sound like the rape scene from “The Hills Have Eyes 2, but I digress) And we proceed to get some duct tape and wrap her arms and legs until she can’t move. We have her arms pinned to her chest like she is praying really hard, and we have duct tape around her calves, and thighs and another line going around her knees and her back, pulling her into the fetal position.
Now that that is finished, we have to decide what the hell to do with her. I mean as much fun as it would be we can’t really keep a taped up female in the barracks with us. Sooner or later we would have to feed her and let her out to do her business, and on top of that she (if the cliche holds true) would never shut the fuck up. Not to mention, how would we ever be able to have company with that in our house?
So we decided to drop her off at the platoon daddy’s door. Let him deal with it. Besides, it might be fun for him. What guy hasn’t dreamed about having a duct taped chick set on your doorstep? Granted it probably wasn’t this female that he was dreaming about (she kinda looks like a hobbit) but we have to work with what we have.
Now our barracks is at one end of the FOB, and the platoon daddy’s is at the other. Usually when I am walking from one end of the joint to the other it is not what anyone would call physically taxing. However, given the fact that now I have a 120 pounds of pissed off hobbit on my shoulder, it became infinitely trying.
It’s probably 150 meters from our front door to his. So here I go, carrying this sack of estrogen from one end of the FOB to the other. Oh, happy day! Normally I would consider myself to be a fairly strong guy. Nothing special, by no means a bodybuilder, but certainly stronger than your average bear. I had to put this little shit down like 3 times on the way. Huffing and puffing the whole damn way. In my own defense, she is wiry and she put up a helluva fight before succumbing to the tape. So I was already worn out from that.
Finally, after several heart attacks and hernia’s we finally get her to his door. After passing by all the infantry guys from the new company on the way there. Which was hilarious all by itself. You see infantry is one of those jobs that is closed to females. So these guys are not used to seeing women in combat zones. When they do, they immediately turn from your average infantryman which is not saying much, but at least you can take them out into public. However, show them a woman in a combat zone and they become a pack of drooling idiots. Watching them as I was walking by with this chick all taped up, on my shoulder you could just see the porno movie playing in all of their heads. It was priceless. (Well its their own damn fault for joining the infantry. Why would anyone want a job that keeps you completely away from females? Really, are you fucking high?)
So we lay her down in front of his door, at least she cooperated and kept her mouth shut so as to not alert the platoon daddy to our presence. Which, as we all know, is amazing, given females penchant for running their mouths.
Then we knocked insistently on the door, and ran away like a bunch of sixth graders who had just left a burning bag of shit on the stoop. (Oh yeah, I love that one.)
Shortly thereafter as we are walking down main street we hear the platoon daddy bellow from behind us, “Who left this pile of trash on my doorstep?” (Ah, apparently he knows our females all too well.) And my partner, stupidly, looks back and laughs. Okay, dickhead thanks a lot, now he knows who did it.
Now I was expecting a reprisal from him, but I didn’t expect what I got. He picked her up, without removing the tape, and brought her all the way back and tossed her on my bed. (Yep, there’s that porno movie in my head again.)
He looked at me, panting from the strain, and said, “You take your own damn trash out, don’t dump it on me.” Touche.
But that is about all that has been going on, a lot of sitting around, a lot of movies, we even started writing a song. I’ll share that one with you when its done.
So with that I am done.
I love you Mom...
P.S. We did let her out of all the tape.