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March 23, 2003 war is heck My National Guard unit was activated and I find myself hunkered down some twenty kilometers south of Basra.  Ignorance of the metric system ensures my bliss.  I've been assigned to a group from Fort Polk's mental hospital, the 103rd Indecisive Infantry Battalion, also known as "The Dithering Shuttlecocks."  We aren't moving because our commanding officer, General Lionel Shilly-shally, can't decide whether we should shock or awe.  Meantime, I've embedded a cute little reporter from CNN and engaged her in a rousing game of hide-the-missile. After the explosion, I smoke a cigarette through my gas mask and gaze at the Iraqi sky.  Somewhere over the next berm, a lonely soldier is playing a harmonica.  I recognize the tune as Treat Her Like a Lady by the Cornelius Brothers and Sister Rose. "Tighten up!" I yell.  I'm in the mood for some Archie Bell and the Drells.  The CNN reporter holds a flickering Bic lighter over her head while I help her find her boots.

©  2003 by the beastmaster