A working farm village in Tarok Kalache, Afghanistan.
The village of Tarok Kalache was laden with IEDs and homemade explosives (HME) comprised of 50-gal drums of deadly munitions. Special Operations forces conducted a successful clearing raid on the village. Then Flynn introduced the Mine Clearing Line Charge (MICLIC), a rocket-projected explosive line charge which provides a “close-in” breaching capability for maneuver forces. The plan was for one team to clear a 600-meter path with MICLICs from one of his combat outposts to Tarok Kalache. “It was the only way I could give the men confidence to go back out.”
Not long after, Flynn shared one insight into the burden of command: “I literally cringed when we dropped bombs on these places — not because I cared about the enemy we were killing or the HME [home-made explosives] destroyed, but I knew the reconstruction would consume the remainder of my deployed life.”
“I looked at him, lost in astonishment. There he was before me, in motley, as though he had absconded from a troupe of mimes, enthusiastic, fabulous. His very existence was improbable, inexplicable, and altogether bewildering. He was an insoluble problem. It was inconceivable how he had existed, how he had succeeded in getting so far, how he had managed to remain– why he did not instantly disappear. `I went a little farther,’ he said, `then still a little farther–till I had gone so far that I don’t know how I’ll ever get back. Never mind. Plenty time. I can manage. You take Kurtz away quick–quick–I tell you.’ The glamour of youth enveloped his parti-coloured rags, his destitution, his loneliness, the essential desolation of his futile wanderings. For months–for years–his life hadn’t been worth a day’s purchase; and there he was gallantly, thoughtlessly alive, to all appearances indestructible solely by the virtue of his few years and of his unreflecting audacity. I was seduced into something like admiration– like envy. Glamour urged him on, glamour kept him unscathed. He surely wanted nothing from the wilderness but space to breathe in and to push on through. His need was to exist, and to move onwards at the greatest possible risk, and with a maximum of privation. If the absolutely pure, uncalculating, unpractical spirit of adventure had ever ruled a human being, it ruled this bepatched youth. I almost envied him the possession of this modest and clear flame. It seemed to have consumed all thought of self so completely, that even while he was talking to you, you forgot that it was he– the man before your eyes–who had gone through these things. I did not envy him his devotion to Kurtz, though. He had not meditated over it. It came to him, and he accepted it with a sort of eager fatalism. I must say that to me it appeared about the most dangerous thing in every way he had come upon so far.
I know, I know. The heads. You’re looking at the heads.
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How awesome is that?
how Americans love the military so much. In that way American society only seems to agree that the military is what we have in common. We thank people for “serving” their country even if we disagree with their wars. I don’t buy it at all. The American military is a brutal organization whose chief interest and mission is to destroy people, cultures, and property. They are not here to “defend” the borders of the United States or even make us more secure. This isn’t esoteric knowledge but is as obvious as the fact day follows night.
If you look at American popular culture you get all the answers you want as to what goes on in the collective psyche. Americans love violence as pornography–they (we) find watching violence or inducing fake violence through gaming, pleasurable. Also, we love amusements and entertainments and believe those that provide us with these things are the most important people on earth and the most worthy of honor and celebration. They are much more important than politicians, for example who are supposed to be representing us.
I don’t even like commenting on political matters anymore because I live in a culture that has, gradually, gone beyond narcissism into autism and perhaps psychosis. There’s nothing wrong with a little corruption, frivolity and pleasure but when this attitude results in massive violence against other human beings and, stunningly, the collective decision to ignore pending environmental disaster then the only thing we can do is fall into the Slough of Despond.