The Amazing Racists

"E" patrolling by a fire as the sun sets. 

“1, 2, 3, White!” our platoon yelled on the football field.

“Power!” E followed with a holler and we all laughed.

            E isn’t a white guy and our platoon isn’t called “White” because of any ethnic backgrounds.  You become so close with members of your platoon that the differences amongst you are poked at in brotherly love, not in hate or racism.  Our diversity makes us better.  From the outside, I can see how we all seem like bigots, but I believe a true bond is when you can say whatever is on your mind and only the person you’re talking to can judge whether or not you’re serious.

           

            For instance, Jonesy is from the small Indiana town of Terre Haute.  Sanchez is from Nicaragua and came to the states around the age of 10.  Terre Haute is a predominantly white town and Sanchez is from an entirely different country.

Jonesy relaxing between missions with music a smoke.

“I never even seen a black person ‘til I went to college and my roommate was on the basketball team,” Jonesy would say.

Sanchez on the 15th floor of a building we cleared in Baghdad.

            Jonesy and Sanchez have one of those bonds where they can say whatever they want to each other, no matter how offensive it sounds to the rest of the world.  I should say Jonesy could say whatever he wanted to, to Sanchez.  It’s just not Sanchez’s style to say anything back that might even sound offensive to any listeners.

“Hey, you goin’ out tonight? Hey, spic, I’m talking to you,” Jonesy would instigate.

“Ha-ha, you funny Jones,” Sanchez laughed then his face went to a serious look as the rest of us laughed.

            They were roommates in the barracks and they talked about everything there is to know about each other.  It’s the reason that kind of language can only be shared between the two of them.  Sanchez knows Jonesy is from a part of the country where people say racist things, but Jonesy himself was no such man.  He was all jokes and having a good time.  Just to cheer him up, Jonesy would pop off at Sanchez, instantly cracking him up along with the rest of us.

“You’re going out with us tonight and you don’t have a choice,” said Jonesy.

“Oh yeah?” Sanchez curiously responded. “How you gonna do that?”

“Just cause I said so, wetback.”

“Hahaha that’s a racist thing to say to a Mexican, not a Nicaraguan.”

“You’re all the same, ain’t ya?”

“Fuck you, Jonesy, I came here on a boat.”

            Sound terrible?  Then you’ve never had a bond with someone willing to give there life for yours and you really need to lighten up because this story only gets more intense from here.           

“Cracka,” Taser said to his white friend.

“Spic,” Neirbo returned.

“Uh, huh, huh, huh,” They both chuckled quietly.

Taser and Neirbo were in Raider platoon together and went thru a lot.  They would do anything for each other at a moment’s notice.  That doesn’t change the fact that they loved to remind each other of what race they were in the most vulgar manner.  Few people can relate to this kind of friendship.  Especially intoxicated people that overheard them at a bar.

“Eh, what did you just call him?” asked a Hispanic man turning around from the bar.

“I called my friend a spic. Don’t worry about it,” Neirbo told the man.

“Oh, well I am worried about.”

“I’m the last dude you want to fuck with.”

Neirbo did the right thing and just walked outside to have a smoke.  He really was the last person anyone wanted to get into a tiff with.  Neirbo is a ginormous individual standing 6’5” and 265 pounds of all muscle.  The disgruntled man at the bar was about 5’8,” 175 pounds and suffering from “Little Man Syndrome” or LMS.  People with LMS are tired of not being noticed and when someone like Neirbo walks into the same room as them, they feel the need to prove their toughness.  I call these people, “Tough Guys.”  Neirbo and Taser came back inside and stood near the same location with the rest of us, including our friend Hurricane.

“Weak ass muthafuckas,” LMS said under his breathe while mean mugging everyone.

“It’s not a good idea to fuck with my large friend,” Hurricane told LMS.

“He won’t kill me. I’ll kill him.”

Well that wasn’t very nice.

            Things seemed to calm down for a while when Holly, Hurricane’s girlfriend who worked at the bar, spotted ole LMS sneaking behind the bar.  He grabbed an ice pick and turned to go towards Neirbo.  Holly and another coworker tried to stop LMS and told him to leave, but he pushed both women down a couple of stairs leading to the icebox.  Hurricane saw this and went to the rescue.  I was at a bar table talking to a lovely when I see this all happening.  I could barely walk without crutches at the time so I made an executive decision to make sure we won this battle.

“NEIRBO!” I yelled.

            Sucks to be LMS on this night.  Neirbo turned as I motioned towards Hurricane and seven from our group ran towards the action.  Hurricane managed to shove LMS out the back door of the bar and into the alley.  LMS had a couple of buddies follow, not knowing seven of Hurricane’s friends were on the way.  They made a poor decision to gang up on our guy.  A brawl ensued out back that left LMS and his friends hospitalized.

“I’m afraid its time to go,” I said to my lady friend.

“Meet at your place?” she insisted.

“Sounds good. Now I’m going to round up as many as I can before the cops arrive.”

            Everyone made a run for it as I hobbled to my car to do what little a crippled guy could do in a bar brawl and offer an escape vehicle.  Great success.  LMS and company weren’t so lucky.  Not only did they get hospitalized with fractured skulls, but I’m sure the police had a good laugh when they decided they wanted to press charges.  Bar surveillance cameras caught the entire episode and clearly our group acted in self-defense from a crazy person with an ice pick that hits women.

            All of it could have been avoided if LMS had minded his own business.  People are too sensitive.  A simple conversation between two friends having a good time turned into a bloodbath.  And why?  Because an individual didn’t know the context of a few comments.  Were racial slurs used?  Yes.  Does it mean they were used in a hateful manner and everyone should be up in arms?  No.

So, are we racists?  No, we just have an amazing bond shared by few.  But if you’re content on passing judgment we’ll go along with it to mock your sensitivity and deem ourselves, “The Amazing Racists.”  In the words of Matty Mayhem, “I SAID, GOOD DAY!”