reply to post by LcplKill
LcplKill, no. I was Special Forces, serving in a Ranger Company. 42 or 44 confirmed, depending on whether you use company or battalion records.
You are bitter.
You had the "displeasure" of using your weapon in combat? Exactly what in hell were you doing it for, if it was unpleasant? And don't tell me you
joined up for the chow.
I bet you were compelled to, as there was a firefight. And if there was a firefight, and you didn't engage, you'd not be pulling your own freight.
Sorry you didn't enjoy it. Sorry you didn't relish it. Sorry you didn't celebrate it. . . . are you crazy or something? No one said it was fun,
and certainly not me. It was a job. You do your job, or you find somewhere else to play.
You hit someone in the pelvic area with all that bone mass, and I guarantee you, it will knock him down.
I'm very sorry Cpl. Rund died in combat. You have no idea how sorry I am. I lost friends too, soaked in their blood, with gore all over me. To
this day, I havent' been able to wash it off. And there's not a damned thing I can do about it. My honor is having known them, served with them,
laughed with them, and yes, even bitching with them.
You can knock off the feeling sorry for yourself, because I don't want to hear it. You had a rough? Get over it. Grow a pair. You think you're
the only one who lost friends and people?
You think somehow you're unique?
Son, you're just one of hundreds of thousands. You're nothing special. You experienced nothing special. You're due nothing special.
You can elect to walk around with your ass on your shoulders begging for pity parties for the rest of your life, or you can cowboy-up. No one wants
to hear it, especially someone like me. You aren't special!
The faster you realize that, the faster you can get back into the game. You keep up this bitterness, walking around with a chip on your shoulder, and
you can lose everything. I mean everything that was ever dear to you.
Yes. I used a .45 in combat. My favorite weapons were the M-14 and the Winchester Model 12, cut down.
My goal was not to shoot a man to doll rags, but put him down!
The .45 does that quite well.
You'd know that if you ever tried it.
So I'll sit here for a period and feel sorry for you.
OK. All done.
Get back in the game.
[edit on 1-2-2009 by dooper]