James, I appreciate your valiant if futile effort to defend honorable militarism, but you appear not to understand that much of current US military doctrine is aimed at terrorizing enemy forces, en masse, into submission, not merely courageously killing each combatant, mano a mano.
Carpet bombing, bunker-busting, cruise missles, stealth attacks, artillery barrages, and tactical and strategic attacks with overwhelming forces in multiples of the opposing force, the so-called "shock and awe," are intended to demoralize and terrify the opposition including civilian supporters. These attacks require little or no courage to execute, for most are accomplished with stand-off or remote-controlled platforms, guided by long-radar, GPS, and satellites, systems operated by clean-uniformed technicians who don't bear personal arms, even take showers daily and watch TV of their carnage for entertainment. This contrasts with the special forces which do aim at small scale, precision killing, and which does require courage. Not much of that goes on, way too cheap for the military- industrial empire which treasures big iron, gigantic iron, humongous iron, unbelievably expensive metal, costing millions of dollars per kill, rather imaginary deaths in the Cold War manner. Don't mistake the language and literature of war for the real thing. You find yourself 100 yards from a bomb blast, and your organs go into shutdown from the concussion, yours vision blurs, your limbs won't function, you shit and piss your britches, then another bomb falls 50 yards away and blood squirts from ears eyes and gums due to air compression of your veins and arties, you flop senselessly out of control and try to cry for momma, no air in your lungs, skin turning red from heat, then a third bomb hits 25 yards away and your body begins to come apart from the blast or being scythed by shrapnel -- if your head doesn't leave the carcass, it'll be fried by the metal helmet, your skin will sizzle, boiling blood will spray out of all your orifices, but you'll not get to appreciate this sacrifice for your country, you'll be chatting with your maker, the bodybag team scraping you memorial into the barbage bag, heading for the flag-draped tube. Back in the control room which directed the friendly fire, the boys and girls are whooping at the bomb pattern, high-fiving and fist knocking at the perfect fit of thinking machine and killing machine, no risk to the comfy killers manning the mouses, just like the gameboys taught.
