(no subject)
In its Summer 2005 issue, Radar magazine profiled the men of the 506th Infantry -- the same regiment that became the legendary "Band of Brothers" during World War II -- now stationed in the heart of Sunni Triangle. Only one among them has a college degree, and it's not nineteen-year old David Nash, who explains that the war is no more violent than the place he calls home:
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My best friend back home just shot himself. Three days ago. Now I only got one friend left at home who isn't dead or in prison. Just one. Fuck that... There's nothing hard about the army. It ain't even that dangerous for a lot of us, compared to home. It's not even uncomfortable. You should see where half the people in this platoon grew up. Or fuckin' prison. I've seen bad things in Iraq, but I seen bad shit at home, too. One of my friends, we were in a car at a red light and four dudes stopped and lit us up. That was okay: Back home I could get revenge. Here I can't do nothing about it when my friends get blown up. After they shot my friend at the traffic light we went to their neighborhood, some ghetto-ass neighborhood, and took them all out. I killed two of them myself, shot 'em dead.
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The antiwar left's well-founded argument about the connection between class and military recruiting does not acknowledge the other, equally compelling reason why young men succumb to the military's allure. These boys enlist for the same reason their peers join street gangs: for the heady cocktail of violence, intense camraderie and sexual aggression that makes them feel like a man. From a poor inner city kid's point of view, there isn't that much difference between becoming a jarhead or a gang member; it's a matter of ducking bullets in the Sunni Triangle or in your backyard. More importantly, fighting in Iraq may actually be the safer option.
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My best friend back home just shot himself. Three days ago. Now I only got one friend left at home who isn't dead or in prison. Just one. Fuck that... There's nothing hard about the army. It ain't even that dangerous for a lot of us, compared to home. It's not even uncomfortable. You should see where half the people in this platoon grew up. Or fuckin' prison. I've seen bad things in Iraq, but I seen bad shit at home, too. One of my friends, we were in a car at a red light and four dudes stopped and lit us up. That was okay: Back home I could get revenge. Here I can't do nothing about it when my friends get blown up. After they shot my friend at the traffic light we went to their neighborhood, some ghetto-ass neighborhood, and took them all out. I killed two of them myself, shot 'em dead.
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The antiwar left's well-founded argument about the connection between class and military recruiting does not acknowledge the other, equally compelling reason why young men succumb to the military's allure. These boys enlist for the same reason their peers join street gangs: for the heady cocktail of violence, intense camraderie and sexual aggression that makes them feel like a man. From a poor inner city kid's point of view, there isn't that much difference between becoming a jarhead or a gang member; it's a matter of ducking bullets in the Sunni Triangle or in your backyard. More importantly, fighting in Iraq may actually be the safer option.