He would rather be drunk. He rarely knows the real names of the women with whom he consorts. He frequently complains. He would rather be high. Ask him what he’d be doing if he hadn’t taken his current job and he’ll say, time and again, "I’d be in trouble like my friends back home — dead or in jail." He is profane, uneducated, impious, lecherous, and unwashed. He doesn’t care much about the war. In most cases, he misses his mother badly.
But the American combat infantryman in Iraq is doing just fine. His emotions tamped into a predatory groove by a long night of remotely observing the Milan runways, his reflexes tuned to Pentium speed by his Xbox, he pulses with caffeine, androstene, maltodextrin, sodium citrate, high-fructose corn syrup, nicotine, and a psychedelium of food dyes. He scores a 10-1 kill ratio when the enemy fights him head-on.
Interesting article on the 506th. Definitely told from an angle you don't often see. |