LUDIC LOG

"Hey, Sarge, can I talk to you?"

When the Wisconsin Kid came to talk to me, it was never good news. To be honest, he was a real weak sister; not like Bruiser and Jersey and Shank and the rest of the boys in 301. But he meant well, and we kept him around as sort of an unofficial mascot. He was real country, from one of the Madison suburbs, and all he knew about life he learned from some lesbian guided learning coordinator in a rinky-dink one-room alternative educational site. I didn't look forward to answering another of his dumb questions, especially on the eve of a major troop movement against the refueling depot at Huichon, but the boys looked to me for guidance, so I couldn't just blow him off.

"Yeah, Kid. What is it?

"I've...I've been worried. About the big push."

I put my hand on his scrawny shoulder, right over the yin-yang tattoo. I could almost feel bone. "That's nothing to be ashamed of, Kid. Worrying about it just shows you're human."

"No, I mean...it's more than that," he said. Christ, I hoped he wasn't gonna cry. "It's...I've been wondering what it's all about. Why we're here."

Oh, Jesus. The 'Why We Fight' speech. That's the last thing I need. I tried not to let it show on my face how annoyed I was. Still, if it had to be done, I would be the guy to do it. I wanted everybody on board for the big win. I hadn't come all the way to the outskirts of Pyongyang to have a weak link break my company apart.

"Kid, you're too young to remember this...but there was this place called Pearl Harbor. It was an American military base back in the 1950s, with a bunch of regular everyday grunts like you and me. Those guys weren't doing anybody any harm; just minding their own business, trying to protect the Pacific Ocean from communism. Until one morning a bunch of Chinese passenger jets came screaming out of the sky and crashed right into the harbor. Ten thousand good men gave their lives that day, Kid, so that we could be woken up to the dangers of the Communist Chinese."

His face goes as white as a sheet. The old soldier's tales always get 'em right in the heart. "Wow, Sarge! Were you at Pearl Harbor?"

I favor him with a big, fatherly grin. "Hell, Kid, I don't know how old you think I am, but I wasn't even born when it all went down. I just saw a movie about it, that's all. But I was in Connecticut when those planes hit the towers, and that's almost New York, so I feel like I was there. And that killed even more people; civilians at that. And do you know who was flying those planes?"

"Afghans?"

"Er...actually, I think they were Saudis, or Kuwaitis, or Bolivians or something. But my point is, they took the lives of nearly a million innocent Americans. People who could have been your mother, or my sister, or Chicago Bob's cousin, or that one guy that Lefty knows who gets us discounts on golf clubs. And that's why we declared war on Iraq."

It's a good speech. I admit I don't really keep up with the press releases HQ keeps sending us, but I've got a pretty good grasp on the facts. Anyway, it's all presentation, and I know how to sell it. But somehow, the way his teenage mustache doesn't quiver the way it should tells me he hasn't really bought it.

"Sarge?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"What are we doing in North Korea, then?"

"They're part of the Axis of Evil, Kid, I told you last week at the debriefing."

"I thought that was about the Phillipines."

"Them too. It's all in the pamphlet. Didn't you get a pamphlet? I can have another one printed up."

"No, no...I got it and everything. I even shredded the previous versions of the pamphlet, like you tell us to." He hesitates. There's something else on his mind, and I think I know what it is.

"Kid, why don't you tell me what's really on your mind? Is it your girl back home? Your girl in Yemen? Your girl who broke up with you and is dating the guy we named Mayor of Baghdad?"

"No, Sarge. It's that...well, to be honest, I'm not sure, when the moment comes, I'll be able to fight."

Oh, hell. It's just normal run-of-the-mill cowardice. And I was all worried for a second.

"It's just like the simulators, Kid. You press the button, bank left, and leave behind a pile of Charlie Hamburger."

"Yeah, but what if my finger slips on the button? Or what if the bombs fall in underpopulated areas, or I'm the last one back in formation? I could be totally humiliated."

I put an arm around him, real buddy-buddy. Even the softest guys need to think they've got a friend in Sarge. "Don't sweat it, kid. Everything'll be fine. Besides, it could be worse. According to that movie I saw, Americans used to actually get killed in war."

***

Ahoy there, mateys! Board the S.S. first annual Ludic Log Reader Participation Event. If you're up to the task of writing a fictional diary, log our journal entry by a member of the current presidential administration, then e-mail me. I'll post them on the site on Monday, Oct. 21st.