I would have to depend upon a little humor to keep my spirits up. So, what would be the first thing I’d yell as I run across the desert with my gun?
Muad’Dib!
I would also make a habit of reciting the Litany Against Fear:
I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.
I’d tell my mom I was still at camp in New Jersey; and every time I’d write her I would give her a picture of me hanging out supposedly in front of the mess hall, my tent, stuff like that. I don’t want to worry her, you know.
I’d set myself up as a god in a camp of Bedouin tribesmen, and talk alot about “The Horror”.
Anyone want to be my spaced out journalist who insists that I’m “a poet warrior in the classic sense”?
That would be cool. I can almost hear that music now. It’s sort of like my tendancy to imagine the Darth Vader theme everytime I stride across a room to a podium- where I know people are expecting me to say something profound.
Bear with me on this. Remember the shot in Three Kings, when George Clooney drives the Jeep right up to the camera, until the radiator fills up the whole screen? Glued, or somehow attached, to the radiator cap is a PVC figure of a grinning Bart Simpson, clutching the Stars and Stripes in his little fist.
My vehicle would have Cartman in that spot, also with the Stars and Stripes, but I’d get the meanest-looking Cartman I could find. Gulf War 1.0 was “Eat my shorts.” Gulf War 2.0 is “KISS MY ASS!”
Amatuers. I would hit my communicator, and call up to my ship to cover all of Baghdad with a wide phaser stun beam. Then I would drive in to town with a replicated uniform and act strangley out of place along with my stone-faced-hat-wearing companion. I would talk one one the underlings into taking me to the main computer, where I would logicalially convince it to destroy itself. I would then turn to the underlings and tell them that although the peace they had always lived under was easy, they would be much better off using their creativity which is nessacary to be human. Then I would transport up to my ship and make some humorous comment to my stone faced companion who is no longer wearing a hat, as we flew off into the void.
I seem to recall (the source was Readers’ Digest, so take it with a grain of salt) that a captain in Vietnam was actually named James T. Kirk, so his men in his unit adopted a Star Trek theme, refering to their weapons as phasers, etc.
Supposedly, on one occasion when his unit came under fire he radioed back “Phaser banks, fire”, by way of ordering his troops to return fire, and the attack broke off at once. The only thing they could figure was that the attacking force heard Captain Kirk ordering his phaser banks to fire, took it seriously, and got the hell out of there.
Again, it was from the Readers’ Digest, so I can’t really claim it to be well cited…
**This is my rifle, there are many like it but this one is mine. My rifle is best friend, it is my life, I must master it as I must master my life. Without me my rifle is useless. Without my rifle I am useless. I must fire my rifle true. I must shoot straighter than my enemy who is trying to kill me. I must shoot him before he shoots me, I will, before God I swear this creed… **
