So you wanna drop some serious chem action on some ungrateful Arab ass. You think to yourself, "Sheeeeet, man. Nobody gives a country fuck about those raghead sons of bitches. Plus it'll be funny to see them screaming in that goat-gargling language of theirs as that dark skin melts and they run in circles crying to Allah. And I can snap some pix of them squirming and get free Web porn in exchange. Sweet."
So you decide to do it, picking a civilian town like, say, Falluja, Iraq, as your target. And since insurgents operate there, your cover is pretty complete. After all, you're merely defending yourself, right? Classic case if there ever was one. But what to use? You got your Mark-77 bombs, each containing 110 gallons of jet fuel mix, the Son of Napalm as it were. That really gets 'em yelling. But you're more in a white phosphorus mood -- that shit burns like hell, especially in large amounts. And it smells like garlic, which adds to the joke, considering who you're planning to hit.
"God, I love this job!"
BOOM. POOF. BOOM. POOF. PFWAAATTT.
"AIEEEEYAAAAA!!!!! ARGARAGHHHHH!!!! GAGGHHHHHHRrrrrrrr"
"Hoo boy, those hajis are on fire today! Look at 'em run! Stupid bastards -- that'll only make the burning worse! Not like that's a bad thing . . ."
Days pass. Falluja's now a ghost town. Dead bodies everywhere. Refugees far in the distance. Walk thru and shoot some of the wounded in the head. Why not? Ol' Sam's payin' for it. Beats jerkin' off.
So you've had your fun and move on. But nearly a year later, the commie-jihadist media starts to discover what you did. Survivors talk. Show their extensive burns. Pictures of the charred dead surface.
So what do you do? Lie!
"White phosphorus was used very sparingly in Falluja, for illumination purposes, mainly."
More evidence emerges. Time for Excuse B:
"Okay, some of the information I gave out is incorrect. White phosphorous shells, which produce smoke, were used in Falluja, not for illumination but for screening purposes, i.e. obscuring troop movements, and as a potent psychological weapon against the insurgents in trench lines and spider holes."
Fuck -- now the fuller picture comes into focus, where civilians, among them children, were hit as well.
"Look, you have to remember that insurgents come in all shapes and sizes. This is guerrilla war. That little girl who looks so cute one minute is firing live rounds into your gut the next. Ever see an old man with one leg and a glass eye throw a grenade? I have, numerous times. It's tragic, but we're fighting for freedom here."
Finally, your cover's completely blown, and the reality that you turned a civilian city into a free-fire zone where everyone was a target is now known worldwide.
"Okay! Okay! So we iced some civvies! Christ! What the fuck do you think this is anyway?!"
Exhausted, you need some Me Time. Put on the headphones and crank up some classic Billy Idol:
"It's a nice day for a white funeral,
A nice day to killllll againnnnn!"