We flew for about fifteen minutes and set down at a tiny airfield in the middle of a jungle, well inland from the destruction, where a group of Indonesian soldiers and civilians waited. The people who lived along Sumatra’s coast had never been long on cash and the things cash buys, but with fish and rice abundant neither had they been desperately poor. The soldiers seemed well enough cared for, but the civilians, grimacing against our noise and rotor wash, were destitute—frighteningly thin, traumatized, their clothes ragged and filthy. We made a bucket brigade to hand out the rice, then each of us Americans shook hands with each of the Indonesians, soldier and civilian alike. They touched their hearts and pressed their hands together. We had camcorders; they had camcorders. We filmed them and they filmed us. As we lifted off and swung back toward the ship for another load, Guns N’ Roses came on the headset, singing “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door.” One advantage to listening to rock and roll on a Marine helicopter is that you can sing along as loud as you like.
I see the light at the end of the tunnel and it's burning bright I see the light and baby it's you.
Posted by: Detroit S. | 04/02/2005 at 16:45
p.s. those links are SICK
Posted by: Detroit S. | 04/02/2005 at 16:45