CONFLICT IN CONTEXT

Pick a war. Any war. Mountains of bullshit and glaciers of equivocation will enhance your life. Volcanic apathy and homicidal pettiness will enrich thee. Thrilling incompetence will add to your collection of tokens of admiration while dazzling stupidity will encourage a belief in bloody nearly anything. Life, however, rather tactlessly goes on. Life, despite many health warnings, leads to perceptions, and occasionally, conversations:

“My father was in a reserved occupation.”

“So I see. Mum too, eh?”

“I think I’m a general….. aren’t I, Fred?”

“Ooh……Not really sure now, ducky.”

“I said take the bloody hill. I didn’t say bring it back here.”

“It clashes with the drapes, anyway.”

“I was in the war.”

“Any particular side, or just browsing?”

“Those are called boots. On the other end of them you’ll find the rest of yourself. Try not to take it personally.”

“I think there’s something slightly odd about Smith.”

“Nah, not really. He just lobs the odd mortar round at himself to see what he’ll do about it. Perfectly healthy relationship.”

“I now pronounce you man and 105mm.”

“Now will you kindly bloody open fire?”

“I’m a qualified marksman.”

“You’re just keeping it a secret, right?”

“We have conquered all the land as far as one can see, sire; these are your new subjects, these filthy diseased stinking scum covered in ghastly foulnesses that cower and rot in squalor and excrement, wailing and lamenting before you.”

“Did we ever think about sort of…. not… conquering them?”

“Remember that when pillaging one must always must always be very fierce and not let people look at one’s needlepoint.”

“Slaughtering is supposed to involve at least one other person, Jones.”

“Aircraft carrier? Task force? I thought you said hair dryer.”

“They have six heavy machineguns, some recoilless rifles, a quad 20, large quantities of automatic weapons, and are rather antisocial.”

“I’m sure they’re just shy. Brown, you go and endear yourself to them with this bread roll.”

“It’s either a tank or your acne is a lot worse than we thought.”

“Yeah, put some cream on it, and if it kills you we’ll know it’s just a tank.”

“After a massive bombardment in which 300,000 rounds were fired in eight minutes, George’s dandruff was finally cured.”

“Did nothing for me piles, though.”

“After years of tyranny and oppression, Irving has finally consented to buy some deodorant.”

“If any of those socks starts anything, you shoot before they do.”

“This patrol will be equipped with full camouflage, night sights, optical and remote sensors, and you, O’Riley, will be on point duty with this giant tambourine and a nice beige evening gown. This time, try cabaret medleys.”

“Friends, Romans, countrymen…”

“Make up your mind.”

“So someone stuck an M1 gearbox up his nose and glued him to a B52 and flew him to Alaska with a full house nailed to his butt. What does that prove?”

“It proves we aren’t living in a cultural wasteland.”

“The Division shall advance to St. Futile with divisional musicians playing lively marching airs, officers looking gallant and enlisted men displaying that rustic, if unwashed, simplicity of which we are all so enamored.”

“And if any of those beastly German panzers fire their naughty machineguns at you, hit them with your parasols.”

“On the positive side, First Lord, it’s not really that easy to torpedo a pizza van.”

“Not in Catford in Spring, anyway.”

“After a fierce firefight, Captain Scuttleforth single-handedly captured himself. The Army is believed to be considering some less visible role for this officer.”

“What if we don’t want to besiege Troy?”

“All right, so your Sea Harrier built a nest out of twigs in the lower deck hangar and laid an egg. Now hatch it.”

“So brethren, we shall inspire others to join us, by killing them. Then others will come to our cause, and we shall kill them to add credence to our sincere doctrine.”

“Sort of like the Third World Loan Party Plan, brethren. You can be dead, and broke, without having to abandon your principles or meet people.”

“It’s a nice idea, Blossom, but if we kill everybody, we won’t have anyone to hate.”

“Whaddya mean, no casualties? Get out there and make some.”

“Reports indicate that global arms dealers have branched out and are now doing legs, scrotums, and random liposuction a la carte, too.”

“That’s where your body tissues get sucked out through your toenails, using explosives and a few relatively cheap homicidal maniacs. It’s neater, and drives podiatrists mad with envy.”

“A land mine a day keeps the doctor away and the UN at play.”

“You sure you want to be a sniper, Smedley?”

“Yeah, ever since I saw all those wonderful heartwarming family movies. I wanna make the world safe for people who make movies like that.”

“You unmitigated swine.”

“It’s a great weapon. You can wipe out a city and clean your teeth with it, too.”

“It’s fairly easy to become a terrorist. All you have to do is be dedicated to decades of murderously achieving nothing, reasonably insane, and have a publicist.”

“Doesn’t narrow it down much, does it?”

“Buy a used terrorist. Feed it any failed dogma or other empty space. It’s not fussy. See it ignore poverty, corruption and hypocrisy. Watch it get more grotesque by the second, then try to remember its lines while sniveling around looking for a camera. Then sell it to a collector.”

“Oxymoron; Middle East Objectivity.”

“It’s occurred to me that sending large numbers of heavily armed troops to kill people might be construed as rather impolite.”

“It’s light, it’s fashionable, and it can knock out bunkers.”

“Pretty good for a lipstick.”

“Our Sergeant Major is a bit soft. He kills trucks with his teeth, then sings sentimental ballads over the remains.”

“Ours pays alimony to the firing range.”

“Ours is putting two of our APCs through college.”

“One of our tanks called our CSM “Dad” the other day.”

“…..but before we start the invasion, a message from our sponsor.”

“Troops shall obtain receipts from relevant parties for all bullets after engagement.”

“Great camouflage, mate, but your arse needs mowing.”

“That’s not my arse.”

“So as I understand it, Lieutenant, you’ve taken the objective, and now you’d like to give it back.”

“Yes, sir. There are a lot of petunias in the area and troops from other units are starting to prance and pirouette through our forward defence zone carrying picnic baskets and wearing baby bonnets…. In their tanks…. It’s quite disturbing for our men and does a lot of damage to our daisy chains.”

“Had you considered taking another objective instead?”

“Well, there’s some awfully nice gladioli in Grid 724.”

“I shot down an old MIG 21, three moths, sixteen cabbages, and some guy flying an ice cream van. Then I strafed the deli at the end of the street and took out that AAA battery that’s been selling the dud salami.”

“Never mind that, did you get the beer?”

“He’s known in the platoon as the Stealth Idiot. He makes mistakes that just aren’t on the radar screen.”

“Irving was hit with fifteen RPGs, twelve 105mms and some main gun fire from a tank regiment. The real problem, though, is his breath.”

“The base dentist uses a .50 cal for root canal work. He says it gives him a feeling of making a difference.”

“The problem, Corporal, is not so much that troops are masturbating, but that you’ve hooked them up to a generator.”

“Motor won’t start, Sarge.”

“Don’t blame it. Obviously you don’t turn it on any more. Try a little black dress, see if that helps.”

“What is it, Doc?”

“Head tinea. Stop giving defence budget speeches for a while.”

“An army marches on its stomach….”

“Consider us immobilized.”

“Seems consistent with the normal military sense of organizational direction.”

“Using Global Positioning, I assume, in case it gets lost?”

“Wouldn’t that make keeping in step a little difficult?”

“So a goose step is really a form of indigestion.”

“The latrine’s feeling unwanted and it’s asking for donations.”

“Are they deductible?”

“Let’s see…. Straw, blood and bone, super phosphate, manure……you sorry bastards…. and now, a twenty mile run…..compost, who needs compost?”

“ “A” Company has gone firm on the objective and dug in… On the other hand, they’ve struck gold and won’t stop digging.”

“From the Halls of Montezuma to the shores of Tripoli……”

“Very gung ho cook you’ve got there, general.”

“Nah, he’s trying to explain how the stew got here.”

“We did try to stop it, general.”

“You can’t shoot a stew. You look skeptical, and try to undermine its confidence.”

“Sarge, some quick. It’s Corporal Smug. It’s like he’s….inhabited.”

“Today we introduce you to a new form of unarmed combat. It’s called paperwork. Remember, it’s kill or be killed.”

“Um, Sarge…..Jenkins has turned into a carrot.”

“Thank God.”

“I don’t want to appear insensitive, Captain, but I do think that a more platonic relationship with the propeller shaft might reassure the crew.”

“How long were you on patrol boats?”

“A…b…out…fif…teen….y..ear…s.”

“I have to say this, Major. During the last assault on Hill 70, you were seen running about in the enemy positions explaining to them that you were a squirrel. You then proceeded to lay in a supply of acorns and made a nest for yourself in our command vehicle, and bit the signals officer. Later that year you gave birth to a litter, which you raised until you could sell them to those naturalists. I’m starting to think that your heart’s not in it, Fred.”

“Well, the enemy did surrender after I sued them for neglect.”

“Yes, and mental anguish. You were the first combat infantry commander to win the Nobel Peace Prize for Being Awfully Sweet. However, the fact remains that now all the other battalions are avoiding us. We are pariahs, and the general has left us both sitting out here at sea in the Navy missile range on one of the targets.”

“Look, George, don’t tell anyone, but I’m really a mermaid who just happens to look like a sexually promiscuous, mercenary, litigious, squirrel. Does that help?”

“Not a lot, no……Hang on, it was you who set the mess goldfish free, wasn’t it? And it was you who accidentally shot, stabbed, filleted, dissected and ran over the cook when he tried to serve us fish and chips. To think, when the local aquarium was shelled, we couldn’t figure out who did it. Nobody ever discovered who called in the air strike on the bait shop, either.”

“I’ve always liked you, George……doesn’t it sound romantic, just you and me, on a target buoy, under constant bombardment……with film rights…...”

…..Which is why wars are dangerous.