This poem tells a story — a story of patriotic fervor in slaughtering America’s foes. This story was told to me by a retired Grumman engineer, a literal rocket scientist and career military-industrialist. His story was prefaced by a glorious recounting of developing aerial radar capable of locating and tracking enemy tanks in steep mountain passes. His main event was much less awesome technically, retrofitting a radar system on an ancient airliner to locate tanks in the Iraqi desert. The ancient airliner was much more interesting though. The military contract included the Defense Department providing a 727 airliner — and that they did. They provided an old 727 that had been used to transport cows, so the underbelly was rusted out from urine. I think that the flying cows may have been some intermediary to pigs flying, but that is likely classified. The engineer and his Grumman team retrofitted the airliner with a radar system as the contract put out specified. However, the Defense Department needed the radar system deployed ASAP in Iraq. This was at the commencement of the shocking and awful war. The DoD insisted that the Grumman pilots trained on the system enlist so DoD didn’t have to train another team. The Grumman team dutifully enlisted, enticed by offered officer rank, and were off to Iraq. This is where the action takes off. They were reconnoitering high in the sky over the Iraqi desert when they located a miles and miles long convey of Iraqi military on a solitary road through the middle of the desert. I noted that this didn’t seem to require any great radar technology, perhaps even just a window in the plane. But, I was told that the radar system found the convoy minutes earlier. Regardless, this was perhaps the least overkill of the day. They called in the convoy location. The Air Force quickly destroyed the front and the rear of the column, trapping the entire convoy helpless in the open desert with no air support of their own. This set the stage for unleashing patriotic fervor. The convoy was strafed over and over until they were annihilated, leaving bodies and machinery unrecognizable. Of coarse, this destruction was widely reported in the media to cheering Americans. I am old enough that I remember this firsthand.<\/p>\n
What disturbed me the most about the telling of this story was the giddy excitement of being such an “essential” part of such a massacre. If this is patriotism, I want no part of it. I know of no fisherman that would brag of shooting fish in a barrel. And if they did such bragging they would be met with reproach not cheers. Why is it different when hunting humans? I am quite familiar with the arguments for “necessary evil.” Nevertheless, wouldn’t such evil necessity call for more contrite and less trite? While the day tolled may have been epic, the day was not<\/em> a good day for humanity.<\/p>\n Here is the story inverse:<\/p>\n Iraq and a Hard Place<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n My shock This poem tells a story — a story of patriotic fervor in slaughtering America’s foes. This story was told to me by a retired Grumman engineer, a literal rocket scientist and career military-industrialist. His story was prefaced by a glorious … Continue reading
\nHis awe
\nA rock it scientist
\nEx-tolling
\nLeaning into that
\nMilitary industrial complex
\nA career at Grumman
\nBilling wore machines
\nFor the feds
\nTaking out
\nA contract
\nProviding for U.S.
\nA beat up
\n727
\nA rusted belly
\nOf the best
\nMore sow than 666
\nCorroded with urine
\nTrouble
\nWith err
\nLifting cows
\nAnd awe the bullshit
\nThat can fly
\nA fixing
\nA radar
\nTo see on the money
\nWhat goes
\nBye
\nCare fully hidden
\nWeepin\u2019s of mass
\nDestruction
\nOnly too fine
\nJust deserts
\nAnd a 20 mile lineup
\nOf those usual suspects
\nHis test pilot civil buddies had enlisted
\nWith newfound rank
\nToo fly
\nLike radar to MASH
\nEagle scouting
\nFish in a barrel
\nSecure in their mettle
\nAssured of Jimmy Walker-ing aweigh
\nThat
\nNoble peace price
\nLike Alfred to badman
\nDelivering
\nCountless arms and soles
\nBand Aided about
\nA high weigh
\nAt the mercy
\nOf the heir farce
\nReigning from above
\nAnd hell below
\nDo evil in trap
\nA plane strafing
\nOver and over
\nAgin and agin
\nOver and over
\nAgin and agin
\nEvery forward conveyance
\nScent backward
\nSplattered a bout
\nAnd resounding SOBs
\nWhatever
\nBad things that may
\nCome out of the rear
\nKnow worries
\nAs knows cape
\nFor all in tents and purposes
\nThis Hussein
\nRoger that
\nBetween Iraq and a hard place
\nErect\u2019em for miles and miles
\nHe recounted
\nA job
\nWell
\nDone
\nThough as Saddam-y
\nAs engine eerie
\nMore Hindenburg than 727
\nThe humanity
\nWithout a hint
\nOf irony
\nMissing the clue that holds it
\nAwe together
\nOn any other day
\nIt might be said
\nA good day for humanity<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"