Tech Central Station has the harrowing story of one soldier captured by the enemy in Iraq:
The insurgents caught us by surprise in that deserted Iraqi backyard. BBs perforated the sullen quiet of the hot Iraqi afternoon. Firecrackers sizzled and roared around us in a symphony of extremity-disintegrating horror. Mean little kids stomped us with the hard soles of their brand-new Keds — weapons of mass destruction. And the gentlest one of us all lost it completely. “Elmo is thinking about genocide!” he screamed, as he unleashed a hail of foam darts upon our adversaries. “Elmo is Death, destroyer of worlds!” War does awful things to toys…
24 January 2005: The interrogators were relentless. But I gave them only my name, rank, and UPC code.
They mocked my fear. “It better here than American prison, yes? We read all about atrocities performed on Iraqi action figure POWs.”
“What happened at the Island of Misfit Toys,” I hissed, “was not policy. That was just some crazy rogue reindeer, screwing around unsupervised. Santa Claus will still be confirmed by 75-80 votes in the Senate.”
As I huddle in the shoebox that will soon define the four corners of my world, my thoughts turn to my wife, Barbie; my brother, Fireman Rescue Hero; and my son, Lego Luke Skywalker. I must be strong for them…
