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War fiction meant to stir thoughts

Editorís note: This piece was written by Harris resident James S. Collins Jr. He said he wrote it to get people thinking. He adds that ìexcept for the story about the POWs and the chemical weapons, I hope most of what I just wrote is fiction, but you never know.î
If I was Saddam Hussein what would I be thinking? Now that the the war has started, I will fight different than ever before. This time I will not use chemical or bio weapons, because I hid them outside the country a long time ago. This time I will use the most powerful tool on earth, the TV camera. If I take POWs they can have cheeseburgers and fries for lunch if they want. I would like to torture and make them miserable but that wouldnít look good on TV. I know that U.S. will destroy most of my tanks, artillery and missile launchers. I donít have any way to stop them, I donít even have an air force. I understand the military might that the Americans have. After all, Bushís father kicked my butt 12 years ago.
This time the war will have very few battlefronts. There will be some tank and artillery battles out in the desert but my best troops will not be there.
The troops out there will be some that I donít completely trust. I know that I am going to lose those battles. I just hope that they will fight long enough and hard enough to do some damage to the U.S. before my equipment gets blown up. You see I donít care if they live, die or surrender.
I hope the Americans bring every tank that they own all the way to Baghdad. By the time they cross that desert the sand will have them half wore out so when they take them home they will be just so much worn out scrap iron.
You see when real fighting starts tanks will be of very little value.
I am Saddam Hussein, I fight dirty and this is my turf - you see most of my best and trusted troops donít wear uniforms any more. They are mixed in with the civilian populations in every town and city in Iraq. They are well-trained hand to hand combat and they know every dirty trick in the book. They donít have to be in contact with headquarters because they already have their orders. I know a lot of the Iraqi people hate my guts and they have got good reason to, but I donít care. The Americans thought that the Iraqi people would run out and throw rose petals and hug them. I know a lot of them would like to but I donít think they will.
You see sooner or later this war will be fought door to door, room to room and then all the bombs and missiles, even the tanks will be of very little use. Because then if they do use them they will hit civilians and I will be right there with my TV camera.
The Americans and Britts are in for a very long and frustrating war. I suppose sometime way down the road they will declare some kind of victory and go home. This war will be like pounding their heads against a brick wall, it feels so good when you stop doing it. There will probably be some changes in Iraqi government and maybe some people will have some new freedoms. But I donít even care. What I want is to make the U.S. look as bad as possible to the rest of the world until the only friend they have left is Israel. But what I really care about is me, Saddam Hussein. I like seeing my picture on every wall and my statue in every park. My dream has always been to be this great Arab hero that unites all the Arab nations. Oh, but then there is Osama bin Laden. Some Arabs think that heís pretty cool. Well, Iím not sharing the spotlight with anyone.
Lastly, it seems like some of my Arab neighbors are starting to like me. Some even thought that I was trying to be a peacemaker. Imagine that, me, Saddam Hussein a peacemaker, unbelievable.
Maybe some day my neighbors will like me so good that they will put my pictures up on the sides of their buildings and build big statues of me in their parks. Wow, these thoughts are getting better and better all the time. Life is good, praise Alla, no better than that, praise Saddam.
Can it be my dreams are coming true? Should I send the little Boosh a thank you card? No, Iím still the same lying, murdering butcher that Iíve always been so I guess I wonít send him a card.

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