In an interview with the Sleuth Monday, he said the "scariest" part of the trip was wondering where he'd eat next. "I think the only 'red-phone' moment was: 'Do we eat here or at the next place.'" Clinton, during a late December campaign appearance in Iowa, described a hair-raising corkscrew landing in war-torn Bosnia, a trip she took with her then-teenage daughter, Chelsea.
"They said there might be sniper fire," Clinton said. Threat of bullets? Sinbad doesn't remember that, either.
"I never felt that I was in a dangerous position. I never felt being in a sense of peril, or 'Oh, God, I hope I'm going to be OK when I get out of this helicopter or when I get out of his tank.'"
Huh, sounds like the Hillary spinsters are trying a little too hard to portray her as General MacArthur landing at Inchon to pick up some votes. I for one hate this sort of embellishing nonsense. And here's why: I was ordered to my current staff gig in the Green Zone, since Navy Submarine JOs are notorious poindexters who can put up with copious amounts of bullshit. It was definitely not because I was Mr. Hooah Ranger-type. Watching me try to utilize a weapon is, frankly, a bit frightening, and walking around with body armor elicits complaints from myself after about 50 paces. When we were shipping out, mind-boggling amounts of unnecessary gear was issued to us for powerpoint n' email duty: entrenching tools, mosquito tent, rucksack, and a bunch of other Army crap I don't know the nomenclature for. A fellow Navy chum remarked that "If we have to use this bullshit, we are definitely in trouble." Seriously. But of course we had the tough guy types in our class that was shipping out that had to go buy all the "high speed" combat gear, presumably so they could snap a bunch of photos and impress everybody with their tales of "being in the shit".
I only laughed at their antics at the time, but what's eating me up is that it has now been confirmed that it's bad on the morale of people that are actually "in the shit". LT G at Kaboom explains:
I had the hand mic in my grip, and was radioing up to the lead Stryker to begin movement. ‘Just give it a few seconds, Sir,” I said. “We’ll be moving shortly.”He looked over at me, eyeing me up and down with all the pomposity of a French dignitary. “Just make it happen, Lieutenant,” he said.I felt the red rage rise up through the base of my skeleton and blaze across the wheat fields of my mind. Gotta dig that instantaneous Irish temper. I wanted to tell him to put a fucking magazine in his weapon before we left him alone in the wilderness, as helpless and oblivious as Tom Wolfe at a frat party. Only the presence of my men within earshot forced me to utilize the brain-to-mouth filter. “Roger, Sir,” I said, biting my lip, arching my eyebrows, and quietly thanking the smidgeon of Scottish practicality imbued into my spirit by my mother’s side of the family.
What a bunch of douchebags! We all have a job to do, and it's important to know your role. Many Marines and Soldiers pride themselves on being involved in this type of dangerous, combat environment, and for a staff guy to be going out once every 6 months and thinking he's Mr. Recon Ricky is an insult to these Soldiers and Marines. So Hillary, embellishing stories about your combat experience degrades morale in the same fashion. All I'm saying is please stop the doucheiness.
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