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March 4, 2016

Frederick Forsyth in The Dogs of War:

ashatejob.jpg

"The real problem was being able to stick it out,
to sit in an office under the orders of a wee man in a dark gray suit and look out of the window and recall the bush country, the waving palms, the smell of sweat and cordite, the grunts of men hauling the jeeps over the river crossings, the copper-tasting fears just before the attack, and the wild cruel joy of being alive afterward. To remember, and then to go back to the ledgers and the commuter train, that was what was impossible."

Posted by gerardvanderleun at March 4, 2016 3:12 PM. This is an entry on the sideblog of American Digest: Check it out.

Your Say

Forsyth has always gotten it just right.

Because my Dad died for our sins in 1944 with Patton, I never had to go to war, but I can tell you there is more than one way to put your ass on the line and scare yourself half to death, just to find out what you're capable of.

Coming through those things only to have to put yourself under the control of "a little man in a grey suit," putting figures in ledgers and, if you're lucky, staring out a window at life, is the hardest thing of all.

The only difference is, now your "team leader" is going to be a girl in her 20's, courageously surfing the wave of feminist privilege, whose only difficulty is the minute-to-minute choice of demanding special consideration for her victimhood or Wonder Woman status.

It's hard to come in from the cold.

Posted by: Rob De Witt [TypeKey Profile Page] at March 4, 2016 1:08 PM

My team leader won't be that, ever.
If that's the only choice I have then I'll go it alone, right after I stab my bayonet all the way thru her skall and I'll use one of her flailing arms as a hammer to pound it through that last inch of bone.

Cold Steel - We make, the body count.

Posted by: ghostsniper [TypeKey Profile Page] at March 4, 2016 2:00 PM

Ghost, think of what happens to the office morale if you were to fit her head into that water cooler bottle with that tiny opening around her neck. There is just enough air for her to stagger through the office, eyes bulging, arms waving before falling over in front of her staff.

Consider what they would think of her 'privilege' now.

Posted by: Vermont Woodchuck [TypeKey Profile Page] at March 5, 2016 3:20 AM

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