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A Third World Christmas – Stop Masturbation Now

A Third World Christmas

Gather the Family and Read How Brother Cassidy and His Unit Lit Up the Nicaraguan Sky in this Heartwarming Christmas Story

By: Cassidy Pen, USMC (ret.)

My dear friends in Christ through the Lonaldian Way, as you hopefully are putting the finishing touches on your preparations to celebrate the Birthday of Baby Jesus with your appointed spouses and loved ones, I’d like to share a true Christmas story from the past during my time in the US Marine Corps.

It was the fourth week in December, 1986 when my unit was called upon to execute a clandestine ‘sweep and clear’ operation. The federal boys that Col. North chummed around with were in heavier numbers than normal. Each took turns whispering in the Colonel’s ear while studying our imposing ranks.

Our task, As Col. North explained, was clearing truck routes and supply lines for classified shipments of Columbian packaged goods to extraction points in Hondurus for eventual U.S. destinations. The Nicaraguan Army, under Ortega’s Sandanista control, had been disrupting these shipments and executing the crews that drove the trucks and guarded the materials.

Since the operation was top secret, as the Colonel explained, we would be advancing under the assumption that capture would mean our deaths. We were actually required to remove any insignias that identified us as Americans. This did not sit very well with Ollie’s boys.

We were offered the choice to back out should we feel the operation too dangerous a risk.

None of us quit.

Our esprit-de corps and gung-ho attitudes won out. “Merry ‘f’ing Christmas,” the Colonel chortled, “Y’all have to wait to play with your train sets and stretch armstrongs…it’s par-tay time!”

The platoon answered with a hearty Marine Corps “Ooh-rah!”

Our drop zone was somewhere near the El Salvador border. We humped 20 clicks into the sweltering jungle toward our destination. As one of the point men for forward reconnaissance, my job was to advance and encircle the objective, a forward Sandinista camp near the border where commie assaults were launched against our transport lines. I, being an explosive demolition and ordnance expert, secretly placed M18 Claymore mines at the main entrances and took a position near the rear of the camp to prevent enemy retreat or flanking maneuvers. Naturally, I had placed more claymores near the small escape gate.

For the next few hours, I’d lay in stillness to camouflage my presence. When the boys from the main assault task force arrived, I fixed the sights of my M249 Squad Automatic Weapon (SAW) on that same small gate and readied the mine detonation clackers.

Shortly after midnight, the “commence fire” command was issued. The sky turned the all-too-familiar orangey tint from small arms fire and mortar explosions as the Marines assaulted. I detonated the claymores at each end of the compound and still another pointing toward the road, effectively disabling an enemy reinforcement attempt. Burning enemy troops quickly disbursed from their transports to flee toward the jungle only to be cut down by effective Marine rifle fire. Screams of Sandinista scum dismemberments filled the air aside the sulfuric scent of battle. Our boys were getting the best of them.

I then opened up my SAW on those that would attempt to flank my buddies through the side gate. Their arms and legs flailed against the air as my tracers cut through their positions. I lit into their remaining fight with the final payload of claymores. The explosions brought the overpowering wrath of Christian God down on them. Satan could now deploy these scumbags for his own purposes because we sent them all on their way to hell.

Our operation was a complete success. Only one Marine was hit with enemy counter fire, suffering but a minor flesh wound. The enemy ranks were completely annihilated. We excavated the entire outpost leaving a smouldering crater, heaps of twisted burning metal, and communist entrails behind us.

On the plane ride back to Camp Lejeune, I looked at my pocket watch and discovered that it was 0430 Christmas morning. I suddenly felt enormous pride along with my comrades. We sang Holiday songs in a highly jovial manner, exalted with having instilled Christianity and Capitalism on those socialist devils just as Jesus had done for us on His Birthday to become flesh and dwell among us.

The truck routes were re-opened per CIA and Col. North’s orders and we were given unit citations for our successful operation. We would celebrate all our Christmases future with our hearts beaming from the noble deed we had done.

Praise God, Lonnie, and Pres Ronnie for our deliverance!

Amen.

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About Cassidy Pen 80 Articles
Cornelius Bartholomew “Cassidy” Pen, a retired US Marine, Actor, and Security Head-Receiver at B.L.U.F.F. Female Intake, now writes for a number of nationally respected news agencies. A winner of the prestigious Bill O'Reily "No-Spin" Award, Cassidy also runs a daytime street ministry to save souls from the sin of self rape. An avid hunter and manufacturer of distilled spirits, Cassidy would probably be found deep in the woods during his free time.
Contact: Website

4 Comments on A Third World Christmas

    • Um The M249 SAW was not used in war until 2001. And this was in 1986.. See the problem? Also did you slap all the military slang you know into this?
      It made no sense until i re read it 4 times and after that it didn’t show anything… there is also a 40 year wait list to disclose classified information and even then it can be hard to get it out. This is full of holes and make no sense.

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