My Baby Shot Me Down

Henry and I are researching Airsoft BB guns for use in um, a recreational manner. Mainly we're trying to settle who would be a better shot. From watching Surviving the Cut: Where Marine Snipers are Born, I learned that each sniper team operates in a pair. One to spot targets, gauge the distance, check on wind, humidity, and other such things; one to shoot. Ever since an extraordinary childhood career in Duck Hunt, I've been convinced that I'm a crack shot. This was proven out when we visited a Seattle fairgrounds in my teenager-dom and they had those arcade games where you shoot metal targets with a menacing pop gun. I'm pretty sure I was like Annie Oakley that day -- in the rain no less. Bang bang. No wait, just "bang." One shot, one kill.

A lot of people probably grow up wanting to be snipers -- they are clearly the coolest -- but only a few are born with the requisite skills. I believe I am one of those people. In contrast, Henry is best equipped to be my spotter because he is good at reading the elements -- he's much more outdoorsy than me. Plus he's impatient, never a good trait for a soldier who uses inaction as action.

Of course, Henry thinks I should be the spotter because my "soft hands would blister against the course handle." (To add insult to injury, he added, "Your hands are small enough, perfect for holding binoculars.") No way man! I can just wear padded gloves to protect my admittedly delicate hands. My counter on most of his points is that I can hold my breath longer, an important asset for a sniper because breath control is very important.

We'll be competing in a "hold your breath" contest when the weather warms up enough to go swimming. Loser is the permanent spotter. Little does Henry know that I can hold my breath longer than most humans -- it's from all that flute playing as a youth. I don't care if I smoke. Even with a few cigarettes a day I can still hang underwater for so long I'm practically a fish.

Now our sniper duo just needs a few jobs. Please hire us, we'll come protect your home against threats foreign and domestic. We'll also take out anyone you want within a range of ten to a thousand yards. I think we'd like to eventually specialize in Peeping Toms, as those are the grossest. Be sure to ask for our friend rate.

Earlier this month, I tried to read the autobiography of an American sniper. This guy had the most career sniper kills in U.S. history, over one hundred and fifty. I quit after about twenty pages. While I tried to put aside my political views and just get into his story, it was impossible. It takes a certain type of person to join the military. To be willing to go somewhere and take shit down just because you are told to. Even a few pages in, the author's voice was too off-putting to continue.

While I haven't read that many military books, Black Hawk Down is one I'd recommend as it unspools the events of the Battle of Mogadishu in an extremely compelling way -- for better or worse.

Yes, Act of Valor is a glorified commercial for the armed forces. Yes it's reprehensible to support American military action in places it has no place being. Yes all those Marines and SEALs are trained right here in San Diego. Yes it's wrong to glorify the excitement of seeing things blow up while ignoring the horrors of war. But damn the movie is every Modern Warfare 3 player's bloody dream. Is watching Act of Valor a vote of support for more military spending? Is getting a thrill watching gun boats come charging in to mow down Filipino terrorists wrong? Is cheering on the sight of paratroopers dropping into a Mexican town to engage in a firefight totally reprehensible? Yes again on all counts.

The thing I mostly felt while watching this movie, aside from slightly conflicting feelings of "this is so awesome/wrong" is how much these soldiers put on the line. Their training and precision are awe inspiring, their jobs crazy, their sacrifices many. Even if you hate the military, it's difficult to hate the individuals -- well, not true, but you know what I mean. Most of my friends likely wrinkle their noses when positive talk of soldiers and the military comes up. I'm with them, I mean, how can you not be? But...

"You don't want the truth. Because deep down, in places you don't talk about at parties, you want me on that wall. You need me on that wall.... I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very freedom I provide, then questions the manner in which I provide it. I'd prefer you just said thank you and went on your way. Otherwise, I suggest you pick up a weapon and stand a post. Either way, I don't give a damn what you think you're entitled to."
-A Few Good Men-