Herringbone Harry never wanted to carry a gun, not even a toy one, not even for fun. Harry thought these things could hurt. Better run for cover, run home and tell my mother. Forget about “A Soldier’s Story,” and “Paths to Glory.” “Johnny Got His Gun” is the tale for everyone to learn.
The sergeant said, “Take this gun and fire it on anyone on the MGM lot for practice. Here are our orders, read’em. You’re headed for “Iraqi Freedom.” Rumsfeld anointing oil. Let the tanks run over the cradle of civilization, down by the Euphrates. Fighting terrrrrzm, making the world safe for Hell Burton.
Harry’s gig was a total drag. Harry’s gone home in a body bag. The West Point choir sang a poignant hymn, everyone’s spouting tears or opinions. The television crew is grateful for their safe jobs. Oxymorons invade the senses: holy crusade anti-terrorist offensives mission accomplished.
Not responsible for vehicles parked overnight. Not responsible for damage during shipping. Not responsible for items lost or stolen. Not responsible for clothes left over 30 days. Not responsible for what happened to Harry. Not responsible for anything we ever do or say. Amen.
