More INDC Journal INIRAQ
Bill Ardolino has left downtown Fallujah and returned to Camp Fallujah. In this post he sets forth “some anecdotes, random facts, amusing stories and personal reflections on the experience” of being in the police station downtown. Here’s a taste:
Over the weekend, several policemen were driving just outside the gate when rounds struck the hood of their vehicle. They dismounted to shoot at insurgents firing from a building and one patrolman was shot through the upper chest. He dropped to the ground, stood back up and continued to engage the enemy. Soon thereafter, his buddies threw him in the truck and drove him back to the station, where Corpsmen Doc J and Doc Watson treated him. The man had trouble breathing and the bullet had probably nicked his lung, but the docs were confident he would survive.
Days later, looking at the twisted remains of dead insurgents lent stark perspective: this is what death looks like, this is how and where the fiery struggle ends. All that these people were – very much like the animated Iraqis milling about them – is gone, and only a broken husk remains. I forced myself to look at them, and despite my respect for life and the tangible gravity of the reminder about war’s stakes, as well as the gruesome nature of their poses and and injuries, I remained oddly unmoved. Clinical. I’m not sure what to think about that, except an apathetic “fuck ’em, they’re terrorists.”
Once you’ve heard the first-hand stories and seen what terrorist insurgents are doing to both Americans and the people in this city, you might feel that way too. I don’t know.
Reading the entire post, together with Bill’s other posts from inside the city, I get the impression that our guys there are really impressive — and that the city is very, very dangerous and chaotic.