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God, Country, and Heroes Like Chris Kyle

By R. G. Cantalupo

I don't like heroes who are self-righteous and justify killing people with abstractions like God-Is-On-Our-Side, the American Flag, and fanatical Patriotism. So when I saw and read "The American Sniper," it brought home my differences as a Vietnam Veteran, a VVAW member, and a survivor of PTSD. And since I am in the middle of finishing my own memoir, "The Light Where Shadows End," I realized how diametrically opposed I am to what the book and movie perpetuates, and the very real dangers of the Chris Kyle world view.

Here is an excerpt from my memoir, offered as contrast and counterpoint to the justification of the mentality that the only good hajji is a dead hajji and the dangerous pro-war attitude it perpetuates.

Excerpt from "The Light Where Shadows End"

"You gotta love this war." Spike said, panning his M-60 on a water buffalo lumbering through the elephant grass.

"You really get off on this shit, don't you Spike?"

"You don't?"

"It is what it is." Devil surveyed the bombed out ruins of a pagoda and picked up a dusty fragment of a stone Buddha. "It is what it is."

"Yeah, last night this was a black dot on a grid, a fuckin' speck. And now—"

"And now it's a fuckin' crater."

"I swear, I think you love these gooks, Radio."

"I respect them. There's a difference. You don't respect shit, Spike."

"I got all the respect I need right here." Spike locked and loaded his M-60 machine gun and panned it across the horizon. He stopped on a water buffalo grazing in a field about a hundred meters away.

"Impressive, ain't it?" Lonny posed.

"What?" asked Lee.

"Seeing what 20 81's fired for effect can do."

"Just a speck on a map, man. Just a speck on a map in a shithole country in a shithole war. You find any bloodtrails?"

"Nobody crawled away from this shit, Spike. Not even Buddha." Devil put the stone fragment in his pocket and nudged some debris with the muzzle of his M-16.

"Let the water buffalo be, Spike. We're here to check out the pagoda, not start a war with dumb animals."

"Could be a Viet Cong water buffalo, Sergeant."

"I said, let it to fuck be!"

Mike came up behind Lee and gestured toward Spike who was moving out toward the field.

"What's John Wayne up to this time?"

"Dumb fuck wants to waste a water buffalo," shot Lee. "If he had more than shit for brains, he'd be dangerous."

"He's already dangerous. Thinks he's in a fuckin' war movie."

"Hey Spike, Mike says you think you're John Wayne in 'The Green Berets'." roared Devil.

"Keep your voice down, you'll wake the dead."

"You got that right, Devil, I am in a fuckin' war movie!" Spike shot back.

"If you don't keep your traps shut, I'm gonna put you in my war movie!" ripped Mike. "Nothin' worse than a fucking FNG with a hard on for war. Spike, get your ass back here, you're sniper bait out there by your lonesome."

Spike lumbered back and put his M-60 at rest.

"You get your shit together or I'm gonna volunteer you for permanent night patrol."

"I didn't mean no harm, Sergeant, just wanted a little pay back after—"

"First off, out here I'm no sergeant. I'm nobody. I'm Mike. You leave all that rank shit back in the base camp. I don't need some sniper thinking I'm in charge."

"Sorry. I didn't think—"

"That's because you've got shit between your ears. How long you been in the bush? A month?"

"Twenty-four days. Today's twenty-five."

"That's twenty-four days longer than you need to be John Wayne in the 'Green Berets'. This ain't no place for heroes. Here, all the heroes are dead, and if they ain't dead, they're getting other people killed. You be a hero out here, and you're gonna end up with a bullet between your blue eyes."

"I wasn't—"

"You believe in God?"

"I'm a Baptist."

"Then get this 'Spike the Baptist'. I don't know what brainless fuck over at Battalion Headquarters gave us these coordinates for H & I's, but we don't need to be fuckin' with somebody else's god. It's bad luck. And wasting that water buffalo is bad luck too."

"Uh...I—"

"You pray?"

"What do you mean?"

"Lee says you carry a bible."

"I like to keep one with me, yes."

"Good. Then you pray for us. You pray this fuckin' dismembered Buddha here forgives us for blowin' his temple all to shit."

"But—"

"That's a fuckin' order. You pray to your God to tell their god this was a mistake. You got that?"

"Yes. I got it."

"Now get your gear together, we're moving up the road in five."

Mike headed off beyond the pagoda to survey the horizon. Smoke spiraled up from a stand of eucalyptus trees. He panned across the rice paddies and the trees, then stopped and focused on a single spot.

Spike and the rest of us got our gear together.

"Superstitious motherfucker, ain't he?" spit Spike.

"After two tours, you get superstitious or you get dead," fired Lee.

"What you carry a bible for anyway? Ain't you got enough weight with that M-60?" asked Devil.

"God lightens my load."

"You gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me. Psycho-killer's a god-damn Jesus freak?"

"He's a freak alright," jabbed Lonny, "a stone cold head case freak."

"Yeah, with God on his side." barked Mike as he returned. "Let's move out. I'll be expecting a good prayer."

"I can't pray without my bible."

"When we get to the checkpoint, you make sure he takes it out, Lee."

"Affirmative!"

"Spike, get behind point. Let's move!"

"Fuckin' freak," spit Devil.

"Yeah, a mothafuckin' Jesus freak."

"With shit for brains."

R. G. Cantalupo's (Ross Canton) work has been published in over a hundred literary journals throughout the United States, Canada, and England. His award-winning Vietnam War memoir "The Light Where Shadows End" was serialized in the literary journal "War, Literature and the Arts." His interview about his VVAW experience was recently published in Time Life's The Vietnam Wars. He was awarded three purple hearts and a bronze star with a combat V during his tour in 1968-69 with the 25th Infantry Division.