The Claymore Conceptual Series

Just a bit of backstory on Claymore. He’s one of my best friends in the world, despite never having met the guy. We met up on a forum YEARS ago and have stayed in close contact to the point he sent me stuff in A-stan, and I send his kid legos on occasion. He never served in the military, but is about the most pro-military guy I’ve ever seen. And he knows more about guns than I ever will, so if you find an error in his writing, it is entirely intentional. Also, if you don’t get his references, odds are good it is from World of Warcraft.

Without further ado, I give you Claymore’s “no shit, there I was….”

Those guys are making fun of my experience, but they weren’t there, man. I remember it like it was yesterday…the stench of burnt chickenshit and burnt shit from chickens…stomping on spent 22mm shell casings, not knowing if all them zoomies from the DU would end up frying my nads and causing my kids to come out with two heads. They have the luxury of not knowing what I know…that while my existence may seem grotesque, they need me on this blog…they WANT me on this blog. I use words like “WTF”, “sum’bitch” and “do you smell something”…they would use them as a way to pick up drunk chicks that hang around outside of Planned Parenthood. I have neither the time nor the registered account to respond to their wholly inaccurate characterization of my actions. I’d rather they just chuckle and post more on how effin’ great I am. Either way, I don’t nothing about birthin’ no babies!!!
SSG Jesse Joshua McJessup
10th Marine Amphibious Armored Infantry
Ft. Ma’basement, Somalia

I remember it like it was yesterday, man. Our squad had formed up per the CO’s order and we were waiting on the battle to begin. Several of the guys were exchanging chow, a couple were chatting…the usual stuff before an impending furball. That’s when we starting getting moved around…mixed into other units. I was like “WTF, man!” but I had no sayso. Next thing I know, the horn goes off and we’re elbows and assholes headed toward the enemy. Bossman starts yelling orders…wants me and my crew to split off from the main column and defend some damn bunker, hopefully hold off the hordes of badguys in-bound while they take out the insurgent leaders. I’m like “fuck this shit! I ain’t dying for this!” and I hightail it into this small cave adjacent to our staging area. Things were quiet for a long time until I spotted this enemy soldier sneaking in…he was clearly looking for a place to hide too. I raised my hands, showing him my campfire and that I had no desire to hurt him, but he wasn’t having none of that. That dude cut loose on me like a whirlwind…I never saw what hit me. Next thing I know, I’m back at the starting area…our guys won the battle, I even got a medal, but I knew that I didn’t deserve none of the honor that they’d earned.
PVT Jesse Joshua McIronforge
31st Gnomeland Security Infantry Rangers
2008-2009 Alterac Valley, Afghanistan

I remember it like it was yesterday, man. We was performing recons on this little ‘ville about 4 klicks outside of this grove of orange trees. We’d been ordered to take out one of them palaces like you see on the tv, but I know’d that there was more to this shit, man. We got through the front gates without too much trouble, and all the locals was all smiles and shit to our faces, but you can tell man…they hated our guts and wanted us dead. We worked our way through the crowds, kids poining at us and shit, adults giving us dirty looks…that’s when we ran into a pack of characters like I ain’t never seen before or since. There was this goofy looking fucker and this dude (clearly the leader of their club) who I can only describe as a giant rat. They were waving at us and taunting us like we was in some kind of parade down Main Street. I couldn’t take no more, man…I hauled off and jacked that goofy ‘effer right in the mouth. Kids were screaming, people were yelling…these guys with walkie-talkies started running at us, so we bolted most riki-tik. I got past the turnstyles and ducked into this train thing that dumped me off in what looked like a polynesian hotel…I blended in and just acted natural man, until I could regroup with my unit. It’s a small world, man…small world.
SGT Jesse Joshua McDisney
110th Mountain Division Brigade
Or’Lando, Iraq 2006-2007

I remember it like it was yesterday, man. We was working the hills of A’stan, looking for insurgents…or as LT calls them “greviously offended resident natives who may or may not be engaged in overseas contingency counter-operations”. I had pulled the short straw, so I was forced to hump a damn pig and two belts of 7.62 (that’s Army talk for belts of bullets that are hooked together). It was hot as shit man. I was sweating like a Jersey girl at a Bon Jovi concert. That’s when it happened…this group of mercs came up over one of the dunes…you could tell they was CIA by their hardware and their battle rattle…all them jerks look like clones, man. They started harassing us….asking us about where the “plans” were…they wanted to know if we’d seen some hardware that had been squirreled away by some local rebel guys. We didn’t tell them much of nothing…they rode off, mentioning something about we weren’t the boys they were looking for, and that was about the end of that. Wretched scum and villians is what they were. I knew then that we was the true evil empire, man…clearly we were the on the dark side of this…always.
SPC Jesse Joshua McCalrissian
501st Combat Brigade Platoon
Mos Eisley, Afghanistan 2006-2007

I remember it like it was yesterday, man. This was after my time in with the Army and they needed me to help the Marines at Gitmo, so I transferred over there. It was a hell hole. They had the freakin’ air conditioning set at 72 degrees, freezing those poor guys’ nuts off. Then there was the food. All of this high carb shit that was making these dudes fat…so fat that they could hardly pray to Maccow or whatever that holy place is. Then there was the torture. Reruns of Mama’s Family and Hogan’s Heroes…not to mention ESPN for soccer, or as it’s properly called, futbol…how can we call ourselves civilized if we can’t even friggin’ get the name of their national pasttime right, man? I mean for real! Them dudes weren’t no terrorists, man…we was. Every time we said ’soccer’ it was cutting off their heads…it was so bad I swam to Miami and went over the wall. The weed and blow in Miami is premium, man. I highly suggest it. And the Cuban sandwiches.
CPL Jesse Joshua Christopher McEmo
44th Amphibian Prisoner Guard Brigade (mech)
Gitmo, Cuba

I remember it like it was yesterday, man. I had rotated back stateside after an unfortunate situiation with a civilian chick in Berlin…suffice it to say the dripping has all but stopped…anyways, I had been taking Nyquil from the PX to help with all the PTSD shit I’ve been dealing with…you know, all the baby-killing and paratrooping into the middle of flea markets…so I figured I deserve some Z’s. That’s when First Sergeant comes in, starts yelling at me and tossed me out of my bunk and onto my swollen man-parts. He grabs me up and tells me that I need to get my shit squared away…that I’m a lazy piece of shit…that the fries are sitting there burning and there’s a line of cars wrapped around the drive through. That Nyquil is some good shit, man.
SPC Jesse Joshua McDonalds
101st Airborne Culinary Combat Brigade
Ft. Gordon, GA

I remember it like it was yesterday, man. This was when I got busted down for my commando activities, even though all that shit was purely political…anyways, they stuck me in a transport company, running westbound, then loading up and trucking. Me and one of my buddies, Burt, were on this one haul, and we got into all kinds of shit. This rogue Iraqi cop and son started chasing us way out of his jurisdiction, and wouldn’t leave us alone. Apparently when we were running supplies to Ramadi, Burt ended up picking up this cop’s future daughter-in-law and man was he pissed. The guy was relentless. Burt did his best to keep the hajis off me in a souped up Hummer, as I barrelled down the highway, not stopping for nothing. We had dishonored that man…Burt especially since he totally did it with that chick on the side of the road, but we knew we had done wrong. We was the real terrorists, man.
SGT Jesse Joshua “Bandito” McReed
55th Transport Trucking Combat Brigade
Ramadi, Iraq 2006-2007

I remember it like it was yesterday, man. I originally joined the Army with the dreams of getting money for college so I could study animal husbandry, but there I was, sitting in the ‘Stan, terrorizing villagers and waterboarding their livestock. You don’t ever want to hear what it sounds like to waterboard a live goat, man. That shit will give you nightmares for months. Anyway, when we weren’t handing out school supplies (tainted with lead, I bet) or giving away food (full of peanuts to kill off the ones with allergies), digging water wells (so the CIA can come in behind us and throw innocent people down them), rebuilding roads (for us to roll tanks in and flatten houses), stringing powerlines (so we can attach electrodes to dude’s junk and crank up the power), repairing classrooms (so we can indoctrinate their kids), delivering medical supplies (as if they weren’t really poisons and torture devices) we sat around talking about how we were wasting our time over here…if only we could do stuff that actually helped these people. Bush lied to us and the rest of the nation, man. I’ll be glad when our new president changes all of that.
CPL Jesse Joshua McGreenacres
1st Agricultural Engineers Combat Rangers
FOB Quisling, Afghanistan 2007-current

I remember it like it was yesterday, man. I had been assigned detail to a rifle company and we were deployed deep in the shit. It was me, PVT Porthy, PVT Tanian, SGT Aram and CPL Ath against a ton of these fundie shitbirds who was making trouble for the local government. They were stirring up all kinds of crap, but we got wise to the whole thing. It was really a plot, engineered to kill some foreign diplomat and pin the blame on us! Before it was over, we got all beat up, Porthy was nearly killed, and those bastards murdered my girlfriend! That’s when I knew this war was for nothing, man. We was all just pawns in this elaborate game.
SPC Jesse Joshua McDumas
111th Airborne Musket Brigade, Mechanized
Al’forone, Iraq 2005-2006

I remember it like it was yesterday, man. We was escorting a column of civilians out of this fort that had been turned over to the locals as part of our exit strategies. My detail was to scout ahead with my adopted father and his son, who had agreed to help with the evac. We humped it for about a mile when all hell broke loose. The locals was so mad at us, they decided to take revenge out on the former occupiers of their community. They jumped us in a clearing and took out half the column. I even seen one of them jump the CO and rip his guts out and eat them! We decided to save the womens and retreat as best we could. We knew we deserved all that hate, but we was too afraid to say it outloud.
PVT Jesse Joshua “Deerslayer” McMohawk
3rd Recon Scout Evacuators
Magua, Iraq 2002-2004

I remember it like it was yesterday, man. I was assigned to Colonel De’John Mustard’s detachment, which was up to its ALICE packs in torture. It weren’t no secret that if you were in with Mustard, you was a damn psycho. So we had been sent to investigate some dude getting murdered. The MP’s found his body somewhere in one of the abandoned mansions near our base. We rounded up everyone we could find and endlessly questioned each one. That’s when Mustard snapped…he started yelling at this one poor dude…he was all like “I know you did it, didn’t you professor! Look at how friggin’ purple your damn face is! Don’t lie to me muthafocker!!” and then he started waving this gold plated candlestick around and raving about the conservatory. That’s when I knew we were the real terrorists, man.
SSGT Jesse Joshua McHasbro
955st Airborne Military Intelligence Interogator Squad
Robble Robble, Iraq 2004-2006

I remember it like it was yesterday, man. We had just taken off from Poohn Tang Airbase and were cruising at 40,000 ft when I got a message from our CAG saying we needed to torpedo a host of sampans on the Heung Lo River. I rolled my Phantom over and targeted them with my .50cal machine guns knowing the whole time I was probably shooting at some poor rice farmer. We tore through those guys like paper, many of them exploding all over the place and throwing shrapnel into my bird’s propeller. My navigator whispered into the headset, “Man, we’re nothing but murderers.” That’s when I knew this war was bullshit, man. Total bullshit.
CDR Jesse Joshua “Badass” Harkin, USNR
Poohn Tang Valley 1968-69

I remember it like it was yesterday, man. There we were, loading ord into this halftrack for the 1st Recon Squadron Infantry Brigade when their gunny came over to us and informed us that we were now riflemen in the Marines and should grab our gear and form up outside the latrines for inspection…we were headed into the shit. We were stunned! This wasn’t anything like what our recruiter told me it would be. This wasn’t like my contract at all! I joined the military to learn a trade, not shoot innocent civilians who blow themselves up because we invaded their country to steal their oil! I wanted college money, not blood on my hands! I wanted to meet hot German chicks and drink beer, not load Warthog gunships with depleted nukes! That’s when I said “No way, man.” and me and Sebastian stole a ‘73 Toyota and drove to Toronto. Dissent is patriotic!
SPC Jesse Joshua McBadass
33rd Motorized Transportation Brigade Infantry
Fort Huachuca 2007-2008

I remember it like it was yesterday, man. We were about to take out a village where the CIA suspected VC activity, but we knew better. PVT Johnson and MAJ Mierda sat on the hood of our jeep as we took turns running over these huge sacks of rice. They cut loose on them sacks with everything they had…loose rice was flying everywhere. I was picking rice out of my ass for days afterward. To this very day, I can’t walk past one of those stir fry places at the mall food court without feeling sick to my stomach. Yeah…we was the real terrorists over there, man. No shit.
PVT Jesse Joshua McGrogan
121st Attack Squadron Infantry
Dang Dong Valley, Vietnam 1965-1966

I remember it like it was yesterday, man. Me and George Patton where sitting there on the banks of the Chang Jiang River, waiting on the Redcoats to drift by in their landing craft. George quoted a few lines from Sun Tzu…sic semper tyrannis…I’ll never forget that shit…chilled me to the bone. I said to George, “G…that’s hardcore, my brotha.” He just jacked the bolt back on his 3-band Enfield and got ready to rock those limey bastards with a hail of .68 caliber rain. He weren’t in it for nothing but the killin’. That’s when I knew that this war was total shit…no blood for tea, man…no blood for tea.
PVT Jesse Joshua McBadass
1st Continental Black-ops Rangers
Washington’s Brigade Platoon

This reminds me of the time when me and elements of the 82nd Airborne had the Coast Guard drop us off about 100 miles SW of Cabo San Lucas. Total black-ops, man. We were there to take out a huge complex of suspected Cuban revolutionaries disguised as potato farmers, but the CIA had pegged these dudes as hardcore from the get go. As we came in under cover of darkness, our squad leader, CPO Elonzo Ravasaur (we called him Sergeant Snake), took point with his Remington 20mm. He had scored High-Superior Marksman in his boat crew at West Point and had the challenge coin to prove it, so who was I to argue when he rolled out all gung-ho.

We split half the team and circled the Cubans’ camp with my team moving around the back of the barn (which doubled as a brothel), while Snake and his guys took the flanking position near the chicken coup to my starboard about 50 meters (that’s what we use in the military to measure stuff). I cycled the bolt on my M-14 and made certain that the first of its hollow-point 9mm DU ammo was seated in the chamber as we got ready to cut loose on these unsuspecting terrorists. It was going to be a bloodbath. The first guy that exited the camp’s commo bunker (that’s how we describe places were commo happens in the military), walked close to the chicken coup to take a piss. Apparently he saw the gleam from the chrome plating on Snake’s bayonet and it startled him, but all I know is that all hell broke loose. The Cuban dropped his pants and fumbled for his revolver. He started randomly firing at Snake’s position, .357 shell casings falling all around the Cuban guy’s feet. Snake’s team wasted no time, and opened up with a hail of 20mm and 22mm fire from their assault weapons. The poor dude was a mash of buckshot and incendiary rounds by the time it was over.

All of the shooting awoke the camp, and the remainder of the Cubans came running out yelling “Allah Ackbar!”, and peppering our positions with automatic small arms fire. The rest of this account is still classified, but suffice it to say that Uncle Sugar had to replenish a healthy supply of armor piercing rounds that day. To this day, I’m still haunted by the cries of all the farm animals that got caught in the crossfire and napalm. The horror.

Category: Politics