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bosa on war

Discussion in 'TRIBE Main Forum' started by judge wopner, Aug 22, 2003.

  1. judge wopner

    judge wopner TRIBE Member

    friday, august twenty-something, 2003.

    the underbush where i sit is tense with branches, leaves and a crude concoction of mud and sand. this has been my home for over 3 weeks now for yours truly and the proud men of American's 3rd marines Corps, 2nd brigade, 509th regiment, Bravo company. (Though in no short amount of time i certianly hope we will be Bosa Company)

    the "Suicide Surgeons Regiment", thats what the local riflemen of the fighting 503rd call us.

    you see my name is bosa, and i am Marines Feild Medic.

    After my last charade as a psychiatrist and a rather unpleasant disbarring by a certian Canadian Medical Association, I sought refuge in our American neighbours heartland, South Carolina.
    In seach of good weather, fertile soil and a forged deed to 150 acres of cotton farmland, i plunged deep in the carolina's backwoods, to my new home.
    After discovering what land i would call my own, and repairing what was left of a barn, i headed to the local town in search of hired hands to help till my land. After several unwarranted beatings from local gangs who upon my proclimation to purchase healthy and hard working negro's, I realized my visions of southern life were largely dated and not the least bit discriminatory.
    Years of wathcing the dukes of hazard and hehaw had done little to soften the sweet blow of southern hospitality.

    I found myself beaten quite badly and in desparate need of medical attention.
    The legitimate and lasting kind given by doctors who carried tounge depressors not out of their fetish for making all the pretty ladies say AHHHH but for actual medical practice.
    I awoke several days later on the 54th Air Force Convoy to Iraq. It was only then i realized in my drug incuded haze, i had signed up for Americas Eliete fighting force, the few, the proud, the Marines.

    It was in the Marines i thought, as a medic i could finally be recognized for my feild work, where injuries were plenty and equipment was at a minimum. This was nothing new for me my friends, next to a complete and utter diregard for sanitation my medical tent located deep in the norther city of Tikrit resembled my Toronto practice to a tee.

    After heavy shelling from local Ba'th party sympathizers, the entire feild command was killed leaving myself as Battalion Commander. oh captain my captain, i surely was. I relentlessly trained my men, treated them as brothers but in need of harsh discipline and astute leadership.
    The very idea of being nicknamed Doc, as most medics were, appealed to my most shallow and instinctive sentiments.

    Causualties have arrived in the Battalion Hospital at an alarming rate, i fear my lack of formal medical training has seen many a poor Marine suffer needlessly staring back at me, perplexed as i look up various terms on http://www.webmd.com before proceeding to operate.

    Alas, we must all sacrifice much for freedom, even for freedom of those who didnt really ask for freedom, or particularily enjoy the unique brand of freedom that military occupation brings.
    I can hear planes overhead, shelling has begun, in the midst of this sweltering heat i only hope this message finds you....

    as always,

    Cpt. Bosa M.D. Feild Medic
    Commander 1st Battalion, Bravo Company

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