F***ing journalists

Many professional warriors have an institutional distrust of the media.  Ever since they helped the commies win in Vietnam, we haven’t liked them.  Soldier/sailor math goes like this.  Number of dead bad guys greater than number of dead good guys equals a win.  According to my tenth grade history teacher, we were actually winning in Vietnam according to the numbers.  When we brought journalists aboard during OIF, the rules were simple.  No photos of the wounded.  Due to our configuration, we would often refuel MEDEVAC helos that were en route to the carrier.  On occasion, the Chief Doc would have to perform basic tasks pertaining to IVs and drugs.  The CO came to the flight deck and told us personally and in no uncertain terms that there were to be no pictures of wounded.  On a warship, in time of war, the CO is the law.  One stubborn journalist tried to get a photo of a litter on the deck.  One of my mentors was a DC2 built like Jesse Ventura’s stunt double.  DC2 and I interfered, per Captain’s orders.  Our warnings may have been a bit blunt.  We were also physically preventing hi from getting his photo.  He went to CO.  CO personally came down and told us we had done the right thing.  Said journalist stayed upset until he flew back to the carrier.  That paricular CO was one of my favorites.

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