These reporters are suffering the same terror and boredom, eating the same lousy food, crapping behind the same sand dune, as our boys on the front lines. They see the ridiculously strict rules of engagement applied in such a way that they themselves are at higher risk than they would otherwise be if we turned the dogs out. . . Most of all, they spend time with the officers and men and come to realize they are the salt of the earth, not robotic baby killers or imperialist tools.
And then one day they are surprised to feel red hot anger welling up, when some homosexual Trotskyite theater major sipping cappucino in the London studio spouts off about how much he hates America and its soldiers and the dirty little war for oil.
-ccm