My dad's war stories are very neat

So to give you some context my dad was a special task force officer navy army major general. He fought mostly in a war called "the war on drugs." If you haven't heard about it that is nothing to be ashamed of, I hadn't heard about it until my dad told me some of his old war stories. I have three stories that I have collected verbatim from my father. These stories are very interesting and if you don't think so you are probably just insecure because your dad isn't as cool as mine. So, into the stories.

#1 behind enemy lines with heroin

"So one time I was in a massive firefight banying bullets with the smack when out of the blue one of the needles throws a bag over my head and sits on me. Immediately I pass out and my last conscious thought before the abduction was This is It, this is how I die. Then I awoke in a dark and dusty room to a large pile of the china white. For some reason it seemed effeminate and when it started blasting it's messages into my mind I immediately fell for it. I was amorous and ok with that. I couldn't believe I had fallen in love with the enemy. Unfortunately I was confounded on how to send my psychic messages into skag. I wasn't able to express my love for the beast and the Junk wasn't able to reciprocate that."

#2 I had to watch cocaine kill my only friend

"War is rough, and there is no time for lamentation. This story is sure to show you that. I was grabbing some water while at my post to quench my thirst when all of the sudden a figure made from coke flourished a knife also forged from the big C and he assailed my friend. They went to the floor in a thud and in moments my friend was dead. I pulled a knife out of my covert cover under my desk and I covertly walked up to the Blow and stabbed my knife through it's heart and rail shot out from it and it collapsed into a pile of bump. The friend that the stash had killed was my only friend and this is why we need to shun the dust."

#3 I had to execute MARIJUANA whilst it begged for its life

"This story might be a bit disturbing for some of you. We were in a fray, a skedaddle, ah little skirmish, with the weed. Then a diffident piece of pot wasn't joining in. My commanding officer took him in and told me to kill him. He begged for his life and cried out that he was just a child. I felt the gall rise in the bag of my throat. Appalled that I would have to do this. But this was a time of war. I fired and his flexors gave out and postmortem his corpse of dope fell onto my shoe and I puked, sickened and appalled by what I had done. It was perfidy to disobey a commanding officer like that so I did what had to be done and I had killed the hash. I still have his posthumous album that his family had compiled. That ganja used to be an artist and I had taken his life."