I poured my soul into my service. Afghanistan campaigns were the only missions I trained and served in for almost a decade. I was all in. Blood, sweat, tears, lives. Ripped apart. FOR WHAT?!
Elite posturing toward unrighteous ends? We were tools in the most evil machine? I COULD SCREAM.
Now we are the ones left and we are torn apart inside our minds every fucking day. Fuck that place.
Read Charge of the Light Brigade. That poem shook my soul when I was in high school.
The fact that they were led by incompetence into death does not lessen their heroism. In fact, that sad fact, glorifies their sacrifices ever more.
Who will write the telling, warning, poems of the failed neo-con wars??
The Charge of the Light Brigade
Alfred Lord Tennyson - 1809-1892
Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!
Charge for the guns!" he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!"
Was there a man dismay’d?
Not tho’ the soldier knew
Some one had blunder’d:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley’d and thunder’d;
Storm’d at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.
Flash’d all their sabres bare,
Flash’d as they turn’d in air
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wonder’d:
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro’ the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reel’d from the sabre-stroke
Shatter’d and sunder’d.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volley’d and thunder’d;
Storm’d at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro’ the jaws of Death,
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.
When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wonder’d.
Honor the charge they made!
Honor the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred!
I poured my soul into my service. Afghanistan campaigns were the only missions I trained and served in for almost a decade. I was all in. Blood, sweat, tears, lives. Ripped apart. FOR WHAT?!
Elite posturing toward unrighteous ends? We were tools in the most evil machine? I COULD SCREAM.
Now we are the ones left and we are torn apart inside our minds every fucking day. Fuck that place.
Thank you for your selfless service.
Read Charge of the Light Brigade. That poem shook my soul when I was in high school.
The fact that they were led by incompetence into death does not lessen their heroism. In fact, that sad fact, glorifies their sacrifices ever more.
Who will write the telling, warning, poems of the failed neo-con wars??
The Charge of the Light Brigade Alfred Lord Tennyson - 1809-1892
Half a league, half a league, Half a league onward, All in the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. "Forward, the Light Brigade! Charge for the guns!" he said: Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!" Was there a man dismay’d? Not tho’ the soldier knew Some one had blunder’d: Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die: Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon in front of them Volley’d and thunder’d; Storm’d at with shot and shell, Boldly they rode and well, Into the jaws of Death, Into the mouth of Hell Rode the six hundred.
Flash’d all their sabres bare, Flash’d as they turn’d in air Sabring the gunners there, Charging an army, while All the world wonder’d: Plunged in the battery-smoke Right thro’ the line they broke; Cossack and Russian Reel’d from the sabre-stroke Shatter’d and sunder’d. Then they rode back, but not Not the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon behind them Volley’d and thunder’d; Storm’d at with shot and shell, While horse and hero fell, They that had fought so well Came thro’ the jaws of Death, Back from the mouth of Hell, All that was left of them, Left of six hundred.
When can their glory fade? O the wild charge they made! All the world wonder’d. Honor the charge they made! Honor the Light Brigade, Noble six hundred!
AFG was nothing more than a drug and human trafficking operation.