Word: fogging
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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There is no fog of war at 20,000 ft. above Afghanistan. For nearly three years, as U.S. warplanes and drones hit targets spread across the country's corrugated, dun-colored mountains and green poppy-growing valleys, every mission detailed by the Air Force in its daily "airpower summary" has been deemed a success. In July, B-1 bombers began striking Afghan targets with 500-lb. bombs guided to their prey by a new targeting pod slung under the plane's belly. Known as the Sniper, the pod sends long-range, high-resolution video--it can tell whether an Afghan...
...there weren't enough going on, it is also quite common to see what looks like smoke in the air. But this is actually fog or mist that comes from the sudden change in pressure...
Exhausted when I got home, I fell asleep early. It was July 17. "There's been another crash. It doesn't look good," I heard my husband say through my fog of sleep. "It crashed into the ocean." I got up and followed him to the television. TWA Flight 800 had just plummeted into the Atlantic in a ball of flames off Long Island, and it looked like hundreds of passengers were dead. A familiar, wrenching dread tugged at me. Echoes of ValuJet questions bounced around my head. Had the TWA jet crashed because an incompetent mechanic missed something? Because...
First Recon has its share of accidental shootings and fog-of-war screwups, but the matter-of-fact Kill neither assails nor excuses them. Some are racist toward Iraqis--or "hajjis"--while others are respectful even of their enemies. When a Marine urinates in a bag of rice at a destroyed guerrilla camp, another scolds him: "The men have been living here on rice and beans, sleeping out here in the cold on these rags. These are some f___ing hard men. You ladies bitch if you get an MRE [Meal Ready to Eat] without a f___ing Pop-Tart...
...This could have been a standard tale of adventure in an exotic land, interspersed with equally routine ruminations on the inner turmoil of the war reporter. It is Mealer's gift that even when he is covering what is, journalistically, well-worn territory - the fog of war, the addictive and atrophied life of a combat reporter - his writing is not only fresh but empathetic. There can be few more obscure battles than the struggle between the Hema and the Lendu in Bunia. However, with Mealer as a guide, the names of those two warring communities become as familiar and accessible...