During the Second Gulf War, I wrote regular columns… One of them was about Frendly Fire…
I'll post it below..
Good thought about Trump and the expectations of the DS by the way!

I drive my car from the east of the country to Amsterdam. It is twilight and it is sleep-inducingly quiet on the road. The news on radio NL talks about Friendly Fire and thirty-seven injured, possibly even dead.
Friendly Fire... a euphemism for hell.
I try to imagine being a gunner in a tank. We are hidden behind a high sand dune and the gun turret turns to the right. The desert air shimmers in the heat. I see the enemy through the telescope.

My comrades in the tank are tense. It comes down to it now. It will be our first confrontation. We check the grenade magazine again and an instruction to the driver follows.
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The sound of the huge tank engine swells and very slowly the steel monster climbs into the yellow sand. I calculate the enemy's position again and set the barrel to it. Through a slit we see the other tanks of our division. Just a few more seconds and my first real act of war will take place. Suddenly we hear a huge explosion and through the crack I see that the tank next to us has been hit from behind by a shell. Smoke is coming out of the dome. "Who the fuck did hit us?" Again there are bangs and explosions. I look through the telescope … but it is not the enemy that is attacking us. But who is. I turn the turret 180 degrees … but there are our own troops on the horizon! Panic ensues… shit… friendly fire! The next second our tank is hit by a direct hit…..