Scrap Metal Jacket

About half of Iraq's new police battalions are still being established and cannot conduct operations, while the other half of the police units and two-thirds of the new army battalions are only "partially capable" of carrying out counterinsurgency missions, and only with American help, according to a newly declassified Pentagon assessment. Only "a small number" of Iraqi security forces are capable of fighting the insurgency without American assistance, while about one-third of the army is capable of "planning, executing and sustaining counterinsurgency operations" with allied support, the analysis said. - NYT 7/21

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Private Faraji, what the hell is that you've got sticking out of the barrel of your rifle?

Faraji: Sir, that's an antenna, sir! It helps our reception during the sand storms, sir! On a good day we even pull in the Lifetime Channel, sir! Ironic, isn't it, sir!

Hartman: You get that goddamn hunk of metal out of your rifle right now, you dumb hunk of shit. All of you losers, ATTENTION! Do I hear laughing? Did one of you girls just giggle? It was Cowboy. Shoot him, Faraji... Oh that's right, you can't, cause you've got a goddam television antenna stuck in the barrel of your rifle! Listen up you pukes...

Faraji: Sir, what would you recommend doing in order to improve our television reception, sir!

Hartman: You're not here to watch television, you idiot. You're here to learn how to kill. Private Joker, why did you join my beloved Iraqi Security Forces?

Joker: Sir, to kill sir! To create all manner of havoc, sir!

Hartman: So you're a killer?

Joker: Sir, yes sir! That, and the money is just spectacular, sir. At least by local standards, sir!

Hartman: Let me see your war face.

Joker: Sir? We are not currently translating well, sir.

Hartman: You got a war face? AHHHHHHHH! That's a war face. Now let me see your war face.

Joker: Most frightening, sir. Let me try. Ahh!

Hartman: Bullshit, you didn't convince me. Let me see your real warface.

Joker: AHHHHRROOOOGGAAABOYDABOYDAGARRR!

Hartman: You still didn't scare me; work on it. Now listen up. Tonight, you pukes will sleep with your rifles. You will give your rifle a girl's name, because this is the only pussy you people are going to get. Your days of finger-banging ol' Ghazwa Al-Alkhalidi through her pretty pink burka are over! You're married to this piece. This weapon of iron and wood. And you will be faithful!

Private Faisal Ghazika: Sir, I do not believe that my religion allows me to enter into a union with a rifle, sir, but even if the Koran is silent on the matter, I personally find the idea most disturbing, sir!

Hartman: What's your name, you fat whiner?

Faisal: Sir, Faisal Ghazika, sir.

Hartman: Faisal? Like Faisal of Afghanistan?

Faisal: Sir, my third cousin sir!

Hartman: That name sounds like royalty. Are you royalty?

Faisal: Sir, yes sir! Not meaning to brag, sir, but until recent times my family ruled the area of...

Hartman: Shut up, Faisal. Do you suck dicks?

Faisal: Sir, no sir! You are coming very close to overstepping your bounds sir!

Hartman: Bullshit. I bet you could suck a golfball through a garden hose.

Faisal: Sir, no sir! And now I must challenge you to a fight sir!

Hartman: Not a very good idea at your current level of readiness, is it fat boy?

Faisal: Sir, perhaps you're right about that sir! But give me another two or three years of training, and I'm sure I'll be able to kick your ass sir!

Hartman: Who's ass was that, Private?

Faisal: Sir, I meant the enemies ass, sir!

Hartman: That's what I want to hear, private. You know, come to think of it, I don't like the name Faisal; only faggots and sailors are called Faisal. From now on you're Gomer Pyle.

Gomer: Sir, yes sir!

 

2005, Mark Hoback