Ginmar’s Back In The Shit

What’s all the fuss about blogging? Sometimes they record the really important shit in a person’s life and worldview, rather than just the trivial ephemera. My stuff is in the latter category – ginmar‘s, on the other hand, is definitely the former.

I can see snapping in this heat, how having to be out in it would sap you of all your energy, how pushing someone in this weather would make them weak. And yet the IPs we saw were pleasant, if relaxed, while the INGs looked like they were trying to make the best of it. They toss up ponchos and bits and gesture for water as we pass; they aren’t well-supplied, still—-water? How can you not get issued enough water? Everything else is a luxury here, but…water? All that Halliburton money, and we’re still having to toss bottles of water to the poor IPs out in that hot sun.

My legs were like rubber when I got out of the vehicle, and Captain Comic Book sent me off to bed with a wave, although I’ve seen him do the same and insist on working—-so somebody lower-ranking can get some time off. He does that all the time, and strangely enough, his lower enlisted soldiers love him. Can’t imagine why.

Odd how coming back here feels like coming home.

She’s crabby, opinionated, writes Buffy fanfic, and she’s handy with a rifle. She’s just returned today to Iraq, after a pretty disastrous trip home to deal with family problems and an irresponsible housesitter. She writes knife-sharp essays that put you in the heat and the dirt and the exhaustion of military service in a desert country.

She’s going to be popular with the rest of the guys in her unit; she got them hooked on old Buffy DVDs and she no doubt brought back some goodies from home.

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