Pentagon task force on Quran flushing.
After reviewing all of the
After Incident Reports on the incident known as The Glate (The Gitmo Luggie Assault Triggering Event).
We have concluded positively that no Quran flushing event took place. Below is the A.I.R. Of Sgt. Jake Williams. His A.I.R.
Has proved to be the best known representation of what took place before and after The Glate.
The report below is in it's unedited form.
Sgt. Jake Williams: After
Incident Report.
Subject: The G.L.A.T.E.
On June 21st, 2002 at approximately 5:20 pm. est. An incident
occurred at the Gitmo detainee center. Which we at the detainee center have come to call 'The Gitmo Luggie Assault Triggering
Event'. Or The Glate for short.
First bit of business. A point of clarification. In order to put an end to
some of the harsher derogatory names for our detainees, we adopted the slang term of 'Sanders' for them. However some
guys could not resist amending it to Shi'ite Sanders. Their colloquial way of saying it, Shiit-e-Sanders, wasn't
very flattering, but it did have a certain comical quaintness to it. So we let it stand. Second point of clarification. We
had no toilets at the time of the incident, we had forward base styled latrines. If you have seen the movie Platoon and remember
the scene where they were dragging barrels of waste from up under the latrines. Then burning off the waste using diesel fuel.
Those were the type of latrines we had and that is how we processed our waste.
On the day in question we decided to take our sanders out for some afternoon
exercise. Yes I know we were interrupting their evening prayers. But in our, or my defense, they were looking a bit pale.
Well, as pale as a Shi'ite sander can look. Our exercise yard for them just happen to be in our waste disposal area. It so
happens at the time of The Glate, we were processing our waste.
Upon reaching the designated exercise area, we expected them to take full
advantage of their exercise time. Instead they just started praying and reading their Qu'rans. I know that they were cuffed
by the ankles and wrists, but that is no excuse for not exercising. Besides anyone who has to pray that much can't be up to
anything good. So in order to facilitate the Shi'ite sanders exercising, or shi'itexercising for short, I had Sgt. Watson
put on some of our best disco music. If you had been there it would have been something—to see and hear all of this.
But for some reason the atmosphere did not have the desired affect on our Shi'ite sanders, so I decided to collect their Qu'rans
to better facilitate their shi'itexercise. Just trying to keep them healthy—you must understand.
After I had collected the books, I turn my back to leave. That's when I heard
it, the sound of someone calling up a massive luggie from the deepest recesses of their throat. I heard someone yell incoming—but
it was to late for me. The sound of a luggie being projected is unmistakable. A split second later a massive luggie tore into
my temple. The sheer force of it snapped my head hard to the left. I was knocked to my knees. Things started to happen in
slow motion. I saw the Qurans flying through the air, hurling towards a waste bucket. Two of them clanged off the side, but
one, one made that sound that every field solider knows. The sound, the sound—of a huge turd, impacting at great velocity
into a fully loaded latrine bucket. You pray that your backside is safe from the splash wave splatter. Luckily for me I was
safe, but Pvt. Gant wasn't. Seeing the books careening towards his waste bucket, he started to stumble backwards to avoid
the CSI fecal matter splash wave. In the process he drop his fire starting stick. And just like that—fecal fire flash
and a Quran burning.
At this point the Shi'ite sanders started to holler and almost simultaneously
someone started chanting “The Quran the Quran the Quran is on fire. The Quran the Quran the Quran is on fire”.
Because of the blunt force trauma caused by the massive luggie hit. I was in out of lucidity for the next couple of hours,
so some of what I tell you next is pieced together with the help of others.
I am not sure if it was the disco music, the warm tropical breezes, the men
hollering in leg restraints while wearing prison garb. Or maybe it was the smell of burning fecal matter at dusk. One of those
reasons or some combination of, caused the female soldier's on their evening run to rip off their clothes. They started to
dance—half naked—mind you!! In our designated fecal matter burning area. Who knew the smell of burning fecal matter
at dusk, smelled like a party. Sgt. Watson ever the opportunist, broke out the video camera. He was thinking girls gone wild—Army
style. A little somethin somethin for the recruiters if you know what I mean. Anything to get more bodies into this mans army—stop
loss my ass!—I want to go home!
Still woozy from my blunt force trauma and barely on my feet. I cannot tell
you who broke out the fake menstrual blood, but I can tell you how to make it. You take 12oz. of ketchup, 16oz. of Limburger
cheese, some cherry kool-aid for thinner. Mix it well in a blender, grab yourself some sanitary napkins and a couple of supersoakers.
Throw in a group of half naked women dancing around prisoners of war, while waving those stained sanitary napkins like they
just don't care. And you got something, a little weird and a whole lot freaky, but you definitely have something.
Now I am sure everything would have worked out just fine if it was not for
that Red Cross lady coming from nowhere and asking me “What is your name and what is going on?”. Keep in mind
now that I am still woozy. So I answered her “I am Sgt Schultz. I see no—thing, I know no—thing.”
The woman had no sense humor. She then asks, “Who's in charge and where are the officers?”. Still woozy I remind
you. I told her, “Officers!!—Officers!! we don't need no stinking Officers! I am a force of one.”.
I don't remember it, but apparently I punctuated that last statement with “Bitch”. At this point Lt. Sherlock
approaches me and declares, “This won't end well”. The only appropriate response was, “No Shi'ite Sherlock.”.
A couple of hours later, after the Red Cross woman had finished her interviews.
I was released from the infirmary, where I had been wondering if there was a medal for surviving a massive luggie hit. With
my neck in a brace, we convened in the Commandants office. There the Red Cross woman accused me of torturing the prisoners.
I lost it. I told her, “Since when does having half naked women dancing
around you torture. Sure they were dancing around waving sanitary napkins soaked in fake menstrual blood and sure they were
spraying you down with supersoakers filled with fake menstrual blood! I recognize that it was strange, but hey, even in my
condition, with burning cans of crap everywhere. I was still sporting some major wood, as were the other guys.”
I know it's was a Jerry Springer kind of thing, but at least we did not have
them all stripped naked and piled on top of each other like Pvt. Gant wanted. Damn! I am going to have to talk to him about
that suggestion. On second thought, don't ask—don't tell is the coin of the realm. For the record let me state, there
is something so primal and erotic about half naked smelly women dancing around fire, that it defies a proper description.
This fact was obviously lost on the Red Cross woman, because next, she came with the mistreatment card.
I believe at this point I let her know. Six months ago I was hazing virginal
freshman's at Central U with the same tactics. None of them are any the worst for the wear. In fact, that is where I should
be right now. If someone, who shall remain nameless, did not come down with a bad case of Chronic Invasion Syndrome.
I would be at Central U right now, with a fresh batch of freshman. When I get out of here, if I ever get out of here, I am
going to go all John Kerry Jane Fonda on his ass.
This lady would not give up. Next, she plays the flushing of a Quran card.
Just how many cards does this woman have, thank god I am an African American or the race card would have been next. My head
hurt my neck hurt, I was getting frustrated. I broke out my dictionary and read the definition of flushing. Dispose
of in toilet: to put something into the toilet and flush it. “Look people!” I said, “We have no
toilets so we can't have any Quran flushing events. Look we had an accidental Quran tossing event, we had an accidental fecal
matter Quran dunking event, we even had an accidental Quran burning event. But no one flushed a Quran! In fact if we had not
had an accidental Quran burning event, I would have allowed one of them to reach into the fecal matter barrel and retrieve
their Quran.—Sometimes the truth is knowing what the definition of is is.—Sometimes the truth is knowing what
the definition of a flush is.”.
All I can say about the events on the day in question, is. Six months full
time in this mans army—and I am still having What the F**k moments!
End of A.I.R. #23
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By B. Bell
