Unfurl the banners! Get the confetti back out of storage! I demand to see eagles soaring majestically on cable TV and the citizenry dancing jubilantly down Main Street! Boys and girls, as of midnight last night, WE WON THE WAR!
That's right. It's over. As you can imagine, the fanfare was intense to the point of excessive, and excessive to the point that Nero himself may have blushed at the pure unrestrained orgy of triumphant self-congratulations that permeated our being on this, the day of Victory: AVID. And I am proud to say that as the bell tolled midnight, the Battalion Commander and XO had both retired to celebrate in private, leaving me alone on the throne of command. You know what that means. I was technically in command of the Main Effort Battalion of the Main Effort Brigade of the Main Effort Division in the Main Effort of the War on Terror when Victory was declared. In sum, I LED US TO VICTORY. That's right. I'll let that sink in. "Lo, my minions, take heed at my new authority," I declared as my commanders walked out the door. "Ye may liken me as unto a god!"
No, adoring throngs of America, please hold back your praise. Your adulations touch me deeply, but a proud warrior thrives only on his own self-assurance and self-congratulations. Ergo, you cannot possibly flatter me more than I flatter myself. I am having a statue erected of my image, staring heroically towards the rising sun with a drawn saber in one hand and the olive branch held nobly aloft in my other. It is quite fetching, especially since I had it constructed entirely out of Babylonian Gold and the tangible joyous emotions of my countrymen (a glowing bronze color, for those of you interested in the particulars).
I ordered the finest in non-alcoholic champagne brought to the TOC and ordered the fattened calf that wandered outside the base gate slaughtered for our feast. All of the men gathered together to cheer and toast ourselves and our great victory. After all, it isn't often that you get to declare victory TWICE in the same war! Our jubilations were magnified a dozen-fold when we were joined by the opposing team, who politely came to partake of our hospitality and congratulate us. We lined up, as all opposing teams do after a rousing bit of sport, and warmly shook hands. "Oh, Ahmed!" I gleefully shouted, embracing him manfully and giving him two wet kisses on his cheeks, "You sly dog! Do you know how hard we were looking for you? Almost had you once or twice, too!" He blushed with modesty and forced humility. "Yes," he responded in his surprisingly perfect English, "You almost had me a few times. But in declaring victory, you have defeated me completely! I am no longer an enemy to the occupying infidels, but a rebel in my own country, fighting against fellow Muslims. Who knew that a simple announcement would succeed where all your technology had failed?" I consoled him with a near-beer and a chunk of beef jerky we had microwaved and were trying to pass off as steak. He said he was positively warmed by my generosity, though I'm fairly sure that was just the heartburn speaking.
It is a sincere honor to see that the Iraqi people are also celebrating our victory with such fervor. The parades, the flags, the speeches... my, it's almost too much. What a fortunate and auspicious day! We assumed they had forgotten about the flowers and dancing that were supposed to herald our entrance into their country, but now we realize that they were just saving them for when we had to leave! How very thoughtful!
There remains, unfortunately, a slight degree of confusion between the levels of the Iraqi Government. Their leadership in Baghdad has declared that our presence is no longer necessary, but someone may have forgotten to send the memo to the Iraqi Army in Mosul. They kept asking for our help throughout the day, calling plaintively for assistance as they located bombs littered across their streets. I was positioned so as to correct their misunderstanding. The conversations can basically summarized like this:
ISF: "Someone/something is shooting/exploding/stabbing/being stabbed. Can we get some help over here?"
Me: "No. No, you can't."
ISF: "But... but... we would really like some help with this."
Me: "Nope! Nope, nope, nope. Not gonna happen. Please address all concerns to your respective leadership and elected officials. It's 30 June, yo!"
I mean, that's how you learn to swim. Or drown. But they learn quickly, so at least we'll know which way they'll go pretty soon. We think they'll be fine.
The American media continued to ask our leaders what this meant as far as troop withdrawals. My wife has voiced similar questions. Fortunately, the difference is that Hope has enough intelligence and experience with the Army to understand the answer. The media is entirely befuddled. "Let's get this straight... you're pulling troops back from the cities, but not from the country?" NO. Stop asking. We are NOT leaving yet. If we did, there is a very real chance that we would present ourselves an opportunity to declare victory a THIRD time in Iraq. Twice is enough, I feel. So we'll be here a bit longer.
I hope you have all marked your calendars. AVID should be declared a national holiday, I argue, and I support this with the evidence that the Iraqi Government has already declared it as one! The initial report is that they wish to call this "National Sovereignty Day," but I'm sure that time and events will force them to reconsider. They'll realize soon enough that "Arbitrary Victory in Iraq Day" is much more fitting.
So. Until next time, adoring throngs of America. I will leave you to your revelry and Dionysian debauchery. (Dionysus, of course, being the Greek god of wine and drama. As Stephen Sondheim sagely noted, this is fitting because "a little wine solves a lot of drama." The Middle East would benefit immeasurably from this wisdom.) Go celebrate victory! We still have Afghanistan and the imminent possibility of Iran and North Korea, but hey, at least we can close the book on this one!
