geist81

((please note, if you are in my freinds list, this does not apply to you, unless you've suddenly become a raging hippy overnight))

(editor's note-this does not reflect my opinion of every civlian i've ever met, but far too many of you have displayed an ignorance of the world you live in lately. i do not care if you do not support the war, but chanting cliches and recycling arguements you've heard from you elders does not mean opposition. no more than firebombing a car lot or spray painting a gap is a protest. just like echoing the jingoist country lyrics of every fuckup in a cowboy hate makes you a patriot. you hold your precious freedom of speech so dear, and never realize it's written in the blood of my brothers. you've pissed on their graves long enough. now the floor is mine, even though i know you'll never hear my words.)

you tell me you can't understand why i'm so angry or full of hate. let me tell you why. this world demands that the united states give money or troops to solve their problems, and then bitches about our very existence and way of life, and you have all bought the lies. you sicken me. you people either demanded a two fronted war that cannot be one, or stood idly by while your country was hijacked out from under you. and yet none of you will ever know what it is we do for you every day. from the cops to the soldiers, every breath of free air you breath is bought with our death and suffering, yet you treat us with more contempt than you've ever shown any terrorist or murderer. every single move we make is second guessed by a crowd of cowards to scared to ever fight for what they believe. you'll never know what fear is, or how far it can drive you. you'll never know what a bullet slamming into your body armor feels like, and the peace that comes with knowing you're already dead, and then waking up again. or the pain that is looking in the eyes of your best freind's wife when he didn't make it home. you'll never know what it means to hate, because you'll never know what it means when failure means a funeral. you'll never know what it's like to wake up screaming, the feeling on your flesh and smell in your nose of a brother in arms blood as he breathed his last.
yet, somehow you think you can tell us whatever you like and we'll just swallow your bullshit. we've had enough. we may never tell you (but i will now), we may just ignore you. but rest assure, not all of us are smiling on the inside. we do a job you couldn't possibly imagine. and i don't care what hollywood or your books have led you to believe otherwise. my brothers in vietnam returned home to a county that hated them. the ones in biafra with the united nations watched an entire generation of children die before their eyes, and you probably never even heard about it in history class. somolia showed you what it looks like, but you still don't
know. because you'd rather hide behind us, and use the freedom you're provided to show us what you really think of us. you bitch about cops being brutal. you try living day in and day out watching the worst humanity can be, with everyone calling you a monster and see how long it takes you to snap. watch everyone around you die in a warzone, and see if you can still care what someone who's never seen what death looks like thinks about the world. but you won't, because you'll never be strong enough to stand among or with us. because we are in fact, better than you.
we are not perfect and we are far from saints. we make mistakes. diallo, abu ghraib, mai lai, these are what happens because are numbers are shrinking, not because of our training. when you're outnumbered, you'll take any support you can find. we're just like any other group of professionals, some of us are human, some are maggots. but the humans far outnumber the maggots, which i have yet to see among the civilian population these days.
you with your hollow cliches of "we support the soldiers, but don't support the war," "these colors don't run," and other nonsense. most of you can't even be bothered to think about it, you just quote whatever congenital defective is on tv.
but you know what, fuck it. you could never be us. you will never understand us. and you'll never break us. but you'll also never know what it feels like to see what we see. what a sunrise looks like after you thought you'd never see anything again. what it feels like to know that the man next to you is willing to lay down his life for your's, despite not knowing anything more than your last name. because what we are and what we've done has moved us beyond you. past anything you'd even understand. because we are more and better than you. you who hide behind words like "freedom" and "life." because we are the strong and you are the weak.
you'll never understand, so just shut your mouths and let us do our jobs. when we need a fool, we'll tell you. until then, just be quiet.

-the geist

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"Col. Nathan Jessup: Son, we live in a world that has walls, and those walls have to be guarded by men with guns. Who's gonna do it? You? You, Lieutenant Weinberg? I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom. You weep for Santiago and you curse the marines. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know: that Santiago's death, while tragic, probably saved lives. And my existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves lives. You don't want the truth because, deep down in places you don't talk about at parties, you want me on that wall, you need me on that wall. We use words like honor, code, loyalty. We use these words as the backbone of a life spent defending something. You use them as a punchline. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very freedom that I provide and then questions the manner in which I provide it. I would rather you just said "thank you" and went on your way. Otherwise I suggest you pick up a weapon and stand at post. Either way, I don't give a damn what you think you are entitled to."