"I'm sorry, but the chick got in the way"
Do these kids know or even care what they're fighting for? According to Anthony Swofford, they don't.

What I liked, if that's the word for it, about Swofford's piece on Sunday is that the language described his tiredness. The sadness mixed in with the bullshit and bravado was enough to give the discription of amorality some other value than as data. He was a paid killer, and he knows what that meant, and that a lack of hypocrisy in itself is not enough for a killer who wants to be a writer. That sadness is what I described in my first post on Swofford, when I assumed he didn't have it, as the difference between the killer who knows both sides of the coin, and the killer that doesn't - as the difference between urban thugs and suburban fascists.
I still don't know on which side Swofford falls or, perhaps, fell, but it seems pretty clear which side Eric Schrumpf is on. So am I really supposed to care whether he gets killed or not?

"We dropped a few civilians," Sergeant Schrumpf said, "but what do you do?"
I don't know son. I don't know.