It is hard to find any group that engages in more dishonest political debate than those of the Anti-American camp. In their self-righteous belief that they are right, they think that any extreme is justifiable from terrorism to appeasement.
When debating on the Internet, those who defend America often find themselves attacked by leftwing imposters who take full advantage of the anonymity that the Internet provides. They pose as war veterans, parents of deceased soldiers, Muslims, Christians and anyone they deem that they can gain the advantage from. We affectionally refer to these people as trolls.
One such imposter joined a discussion in my Protest Warriors email group and claimed to be a Vietnam veteran. He boasted of killing many VC guerillas and appeared to display the politics of Paleo-conservatism mixed with the pained sensitivity of a liberal (which the troll could not disguise).
The charlatan was quickly outed when he claimed to have undergone basic training at Camp Pendleton, which hosts no basic training area (Only advanced training is held there. Basic training was really held at Marine Corps Recruit Depot, a half hour south).
In the spirit of fun I penned a war story that I attributed to the troll and posted it. Since I enjoyed writing it so much I thought that I would share it with you.
My Secret Mission
(What I did for my summer vacation)
On a hot summer’s day back in 1968 our commander asked for some volunteers for a dangerous mission. He told us that four volunteers would be sent deep into enemy territory in order to terminate two high ranking enemy agents. There was a high probability that none of us would come back alive.
I had just returned from a daring special ops mission in the enemy capitol of Hanoi and I was itching to get back into action, so I enthusiastically volunteered. The experience nearly killed me.
It got my buddies killed before we even got to the ambush site. “Chance” got speared on a row of hidden poison pungi sticks in a cleverly concealed booby trap. “Dawg” got a round to the head from an enemy sniper and “Billy” was foolish enough to stop off at a deep jungle AM/PM where he died of food poisoning from the two burgers and a coke Fast Meal Deal. This left me completely alone, deep behind enemy lines.
I made it to the ambush coordinates with an hour to spare and set my explosives. After what seemed to be an eternity of waiting in the darkness I heard some movement. I could smell them, but they didn’t smell like the usual VC sappers. No sir, that was the smell of alcohol and cheap cologne. Back in our premission briefing the officer in charge wouldn’t say who the target was, so I knew that this was definitely a big score. I had no idea just how big they really were.
When I set off the claymores I heard a shrilling scream that told me I wounded one of my targets. I sprayed the kill zone with my M60 in one hand and my M16 in the other, but my opponents were laying down fiercely accurate suppression fire. These guys were no doubt highly experienced professionals and I was forced to beat a retreat to a more favorable position.
As I pulled back I saw movement to my left. The wounded enemy soldier was angrily bearing down on me with his AK47 wildly chewing up the vegetation. When I got my first clear glimpse of him I shuddered. I couldn’t believe my eyes, it was Che Guevara! His clothes were stained with blood and he was screaming with rage as he blindly charged me. In the moonlight I could make out his trademark beard as opened up with my M60, blowing a hole through his chest. He staggered backwards and fell down a ravine into a swiftly flowing river that carried his body away. I cursed the fact that I would never be able to confirm such a kill.
Before I could absorb what happened I heard the swish of an incoming RPG round and had no time to take cover. It hit hard and I blacked out for about 10 seconds. When I came around I saw my dismembered arm lying on the forest floor in front of me. I quickly grabbed it and duck taped it to my shoulder. Without a pause I began to open fire into the jungle with both of my guns blazing. I was just firing blindly into the dense brush and it was too late when I heard someone laughing behind me.
With super-human speed he lunged from the shadows and put me in a chokehold that had me completely neutralized. I dropped my weapons and he pushed me to the ground, putting his foot on my throat. I looked up and got the shock of my life. Standing over me was Adolf Hitler himself!
He stood there smiling for a minute and then asked if I had any last words before he killed me. After all I had been through I wasn’t in the mood to grovel so I cursed him and told him to just do it, but in the blink of an eye a giant black panther leaped on him. They rolled on top of each other and both desperately tried to gain the upper-hand in an epic life-and-death struggle. The panther’s claws dug into Hitler’s body and he yelled out in anger. As they battled I regained my composure and picked-up my weapons. The crackling sound of the panther’s neck snapping caught my attention and I pointed my guns at Hitler as he lied underneath the dead panther. He began laughing and yelled out, “I vill meet you again, Amerikan”. A grenade landed at my feet so I leaped into the ravine and fell down into the river. As I was swept downstream I could still hear the fading sound of Hitler’s laughing in the distance.
When I got back to my base I pretty much kept to myself. No one would believe that I fought two famous dead men deep in the jungles of Vietnam.
My debriefing got off to a slow start and I answered all questions with short one-word answers. Finally my commander grabbed me and shook me hard. Nose to nose he yelled, “tell me what ya saw out dere boy!” I simply stared at him, but I couldn’t dare open my mouth. I just sat there shaking. My commander stepped back and gave me a warm smile. He ripped off his shirt and showed me the scars where his arm had once been reattached, just like mine. “Boy, da first time Iz met Adolf Hitler was in da hills of North Korea, it wuz the summer o’ 1951…”
When debating on the Internet, those who defend America often find themselves attacked by leftwing imposters who take full advantage of the anonymity that the Internet provides. They pose as war veterans, parents of deceased soldiers, Muslims, Christians and anyone they deem that they can gain the advantage from. We affectionally refer to these people as trolls.
One such imposter joined a discussion in my Protest Warriors email group and claimed to be a Vietnam veteran. He boasted of killing many VC guerillas and appeared to display the politics of Paleo-conservatism mixed with the pained sensitivity of a liberal (which the troll could not disguise).
The charlatan was quickly outed when he claimed to have undergone basic training at Camp Pendleton, which hosts no basic training area (Only advanced training is held there. Basic training was really held at Marine Corps Recruit Depot, a half hour south).
In the spirit of fun I penned a war story that I attributed to the troll and posted it. Since I enjoyed writing it so much I thought that I would share it with you.
My Secret Mission
(What I did for my summer vacation)
On a hot summer’s day back in 1968 our commander asked for some volunteers for a dangerous mission. He told us that four volunteers would be sent deep into enemy territory in order to terminate two high ranking enemy agents. There was a high probability that none of us would come back alive.
I had just returned from a daring special ops mission in the enemy capitol of Hanoi and I was itching to get back into action, so I enthusiastically volunteered. The experience nearly killed me.
It got my buddies killed before we even got to the ambush site. “Chance” got speared on a row of hidden poison pungi sticks in a cleverly concealed booby trap. “Dawg” got a round to the head from an enemy sniper and “Billy” was foolish enough to stop off at a deep jungle AM/PM where he died of food poisoning from the two burgers and a coke Fast Meal Deal. This left me completely alone, deep behind enemy lines.
I made it to the ambush coordinates with an hour to spare and set my explosives. After what seemed to be an eternity of waiting in the darkness I heard some movement. I could smell them, but they didn’t smell like the usual VC sappers. No sir, that was the smell of alcohol and cheap cologne. Back in our premission briefing the officer in charge wouldn’t say who the target was, so I knew that this was definitely a big score. I had no idea just how big they really were.
When I set off the claymores I heard a shrilling scream that told me I wounded one of my targets. I sprayed the kill zone with my M60 in one hand and my M16 in the other, but my opponents were laying down fiercely accurate suppression fire. These guys were no doubt highly experienced professionals and I was forced to beat a retreat to a more favorable position.
As I pulled back I saw movement to my left. The wounded enemy soldier was angrily bearing down on me with his AK47 wildly chewing up the vegetation. When I got my first clear glimpse of him I shuddered. I couldn’t believe my eyes, it was Che Guevara! His clothes were stained with blood and he was screaming with rage as he blindly charged me. In the moonlight I could make out his trademark beard as opened up with my M60, blowing a hole through his chest. He staggered backwards and fell down a ravine into a swiftly flowing river that carried his body away. I cursed the fact that I would never be able to confirm such a kill.
Before I could absorb what happened I heard the swish of an incoming RPG round and had no time to take cover. It hit hard and I blacked out for about 10 seconds. When I came around I saw my dismembered arm lying on the forest floor in front of me. I quickly grabbed it and duck taped it to my shoulder. Without a pause I began to open fire into the jungle with both of my guns blazing. I was just firing blindly into the dense brush and it was too late when I heard someone laughing behind me.
With super-human speed he lunged from the shadows and put me in a chokehold that had me completely neutralized. I dropped my weapons and he pushed me to the ground, putting his foot on my throat. I looked up and got the shock of my life. Standing over me was Adolf Hitler himself!
He stood there smiling for a minute and then asked if I had any last words before he killed me. After all I had been through I wasn’t in the mood to grovel so I cursed him and told him to just do it, but in the blink of an eye a giant black panther leaped on him. They rolled on top of each other and both desperately tried to gain the upper-hand in an epic life-and-death struggle. The panther’s claws dug into Hitler’s body and he yelled out in anger. As they battled I regained my composure and picked-up my weapons. The crackling sound of the panther’s neck snapping caught my attention and I pointed my guns at Hitler as he lied underneath the dead panther. He began laughing and yelled out, “I vill meet you again, Amerikan”. A grenade landed at my feet so I leaped into the ravine and fell down into the river. As I was swept downstream I could still hear the fading sound of Hitler’s laughing in the distance.
When I got back to my base I pretty much kept to myself. No one would believe that I fought two famous dead men deep in the jungles of Vietnam.
My debriefing got off to a slow start and I answered all questions with short one-word answers. Finally my commander grabbed me and shook me hard. Nose to nose he yelled, “tell me what ya saw out dere boy!” I simply stared at him, but I couldn’t dare open my mouth. I just sat there shaking. My commander stepped back and gave me a warm smile. He ripped off his shirt and showed me the scars where his arm had once been reattached, just like mine. “Boy, da first time Iz met Adolf Hitler was in da hills of North Korea, it wuz the summer o’ 1951…”
8 comments:
Truth to liberal delusionists is whatever they feel advances their agenda.
They have no concept what a slippery slope that places them on.
Now we learn that their tactic of publishing the addresses and phone numbers of high government officials such as Vice President Cheney and SecDef Rumsfeld is now applied to bloggers like Michelle Malkin and even to us little folk as well.
We're dealing with people that think Bush is Hitler, yet who send out Union thugs to rip the Bush/Cheney sign from the hands of a 4 year old girl in the 2004 election.
Imagine what they would do if they achieved power based on these tactics?
lu lu lu lu (insert twilight zone music here). guess that may have been what it would be like to go to hell and back.
excellent, as usual, fern.
like i said at autonomist - the left doesn't want foul lines on the field when they're up to bat.
FN,
Quite the essay here. I love the creative, metaphysical touch.
I am reminded of General Patton's reference to having fought on other battlefields--at least so he was portrayed in the film Patton.
Evil follows mankind through generation after generation, and is elusive to destroy definitively.
Mike,
I love that slippery slope reference. Leftists love to accuse the Bush administration of that one all the time, but here we are five years into the administration and still none of their dire predictions have come true.
No draft, no unlawful jailing of American political dissenters, no extra-legal surveillance, no ethnic cleansing of New Orleans, No oil profits from Iraqi oil, etc....
They should get acquainted with themselves, they are rather ugly.
Go satirists, go. :) I wrote a little satire myself at my own blog, so check it out!
The "war story" genre is something that most folks will give the vets a few degrees of latitude on, because they were there and they've been through a lot. Liberals take that tolerance and attempt to drive a Mack truck through it by packing in lies, distortions, and half-truths simply to push their own agenda. Like ants, if there's an opening, they'll find it.
This is funny because Liberals never seem to complain about dubious social spending. The attacks on Rocco's site seem to come from a High Times convention.
Happy Fourth everyone!!!!!!!!!
that was great! give the guy credit for making me laugh! He wounded Che...nice going...
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