Well, I can tell some of the reasons now... the SOB my team was looking for has since been captured. I was always a week behind this man.
Here's a little Christmas thing I found in an old e-mail from Bosnia. PIFWICs were Person Indicted for War Crimes.
THE NIGHT BEFORE SFOR CHRISTMAS
by XXX Camp McGovern, Bosnia 2003
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the campNot a creature was stirring, not even the tramp;
The ammunition belts were hung by the M-249 SAWS with care,
In hopes that PIFWICs would soon be there
While visions of R&R, getting drunk danced in their heads;
And First Sergeant in his Kevlar, and I in my patrol cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,
I sprang from the cot to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I looked towards the field,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the blast shield.
The moon on the breast of the Black Bosnian snow
Gave the lustre of mid-night to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a T34 Tank and 7 raindeer, (they ate one)
With an Old PIFWIC so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment I would be very sick.
More rapid than 5.56 rounds his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Hummer! now, Abrams! now, Bradley and jeeps!
On, Sergeant Major! on Captains! on, Majors so lame!
To the top of the bunker! to the top of the C-hut!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
As dry BDUs that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an other PIFWICs and mount to the sky...
So up to the bunker top the coursers they flew...
With the sleigh full of bootlegged stuff and St Nick too..
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the tin roof
The roar of the tank engine and around the turrent it flew...
As I drew in my 9 Mil, and was turning around,
Down the chimney the War Criminal came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with blood and soot;
A bundle of bones he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a crack dealer just opening his pack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
Yep, he was as drunk as a ferry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight between his few teeth,
And the evil smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a Balkan face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like napalm jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old Ick,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of being sick;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And stole all the stockings; oh what a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his trigger guard,
And giving a nod, out the front door he slammed hard;
He sprang to his T-34 to his crew gave a whistle...
And away they all drove like a bore cleaning bristle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Screw SFOR , and to all a good-night."
Merry Christmas and I hope all readers are loving the one they're with...