October 29th, 1990
Well, Maj. Cross just made a fat shit-sandwich and it looks like we all have to take a bite. We have to spend two weeks looking for Iraqis. It’s just us, our guns, some shitty MREs, our Humvees, and this scorching sun. Two weeks in this waste land. We couldn’t have possibly made a few stops at the post?
I told Seltzman about how I’m scared of getting shot. Especially because I’m the gunner. He said something that will resonate with me for awhile. He said “Wil, worrying is a waste of your imagination”
That struck me in the oddest way. It made me think for awhile. Then, before I knew it, I got really comfortable in the turret.
On a brighter note (or actually darker), I got to try the infamous no. 10. Tuna w/ Noodles. All I have to say is: who the fuck made this thing? It tastes like it I brushed my teeth with a toothbrush that some wiped their ass with. It’s heinous.
I haven’t met one person who likes it. It deserves to be used as a weapon to deter Iraqis. I bet if all the Kuwaitis (Kuatites? Kuwaits? Kuwaitians?) ate that stuff, the Iraqis would stay far away from here.
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