Coming and Going

Although we'll be doing without Major Pain's insight from Iraq (we're eagerly awaiting the welcome home post, Bear) we'll have a fresh perspective:

All our gear is packed and our equipment is gone. Now we're just waiting in cold, snowy Germany to get on planes and head to a different world. While the hectic pace at work has slowed down some, we now have time to contemplate the future. It's hard not knowing exactly what we're getting into. We all read the newspapers and watch CNN and have an "idea" what life will be like in Iraq but we really won't know until we get there.

Dagger JAG details "life in Iraq as an Army lawyer with the 1st Infantry Division."

Welcome to the MilBlogs ring sir. And thanks for your service to America.

Iraqi Freedom II is on.

Your Votes Needed

Okay, BlogMadness round two has been going for about a day and I failed to post it, so I'm losing. Visit here and you can vote for Mudville or my opponent, who has a fine entry you should definitely read.

While on the same page you can vote for fellow MilBlogger Evangelical Outpost or his opponent too.

Thanks and enjoy.

Thunderbird Crash

Picture here:

Story here.

Cockpit video here (4mb file, but if you've got a fast connection, must see. Recommend saving to your hard drive and playing, or being patient.)

UPDATE: Spectator video here. (Requires free registration, e-mail received immediately. Worth the effort, great site with lots more.)

Will We "Hook" Osama This Year?

Seeing this in light of yesterday's stories in the Trib and Newsday I'm now sure something is up. You all can speculate to your hearts content, but here's a clue: Oliver missed the point, but might be close (for the wrong reason).

Not a True Coalition?

Another round of Memefighting.

Question: How many times will this particular insult to the world be run up the flag pole this year?

"He embraced a radical doctrine of pre-emptive war unprecedented in our history; and he failed to build a true international coalition," Pelosi said.

Answer: As long as these variations on the human form stand up and salute it, that flag will fly.

Smash has rather adroitly presented the issue here, going so far as to provide a very nice picture to assist non-reading members of that particular hate cult to understand what "global coalition" is. (And here's another great visual aid for the "not a coalition" crowd.)

Of course, "not a true coalition" is leftspeak for "France and Russia are against us". (although possibly "ignospeak" for those who believe it and repeat it without thought.) Pelosi is leftspeaking, I think, while the remaining glimmer triplets are possibly ignospeaking.

Enough of that for now. Hand me the memehammer. Here's a look at one of the partners of that "true coalition" that Nancy and the gals so lust for:

200 Conscripts Ill

MOSCOW (MT) -- Some 200 young conscripts have been hospitalized with pneumonia and other severe respiratory illnesses in the southern Samara region after apparently being forced to sleep in unheated housing while being sent to their first deployments, Vremya reported Thursday.

Military prosecutors have opened an investigation, the newspaper said.

The development came as military prosecutors looked into a similar case in the Far East region of Magadan. One conscript died and 90 others were hospitalized several weeks ago after being forced to stand outside in freezing temperatures as their plane was being refueled on a flight to their first deployments.

Once is a tragedy. Twice is a crime - and at least two similar events occurred. More detail on the earlier case mentioned:

Conscripts' Cold Comfort

Last week, all major television channels and news agencies -- in an clearly coordinated fashion -- ran with a terrible story about 200 18-year-old conscripts exposed last month to severe cold during transportation from the Moscow region to the Far East. Most of the conscripts fell ill and one, Vladimir Berezin, died of pneumonia in Magadan on Jan. 2.

During refueling stopovers, conscripts were forced to leave their Il-76 transport plane and stand for hours on the tarmac in freezing conditions. In Russia, it is an old tradition that conscripts travel to their units in their civilian clothing. Military dress, including warm winter wear, is issued only on arrival. Conscripts' civilian clothes are dumped as rubbish, so it is customary for families to send the boys to serve wearing old rags of zero value.

The poor parents fault? Not according to this LA Times version:

CHERNOGOLOVKA, Russia — When he saw his son off to join the army in December, Mikhail Sorokin figured the boy was dressed appropriately for the relatively mild snowy weather in Moscow: jeans, track shoes, a light jacket.

He never knew the young soldiers would be put on a plane for frigid Siberia.

The new recruits were "cold like dogs," one wrote his mother, after being forced to stand for hours without protective clothing on an airport tarmac in temperatures as low as 25 degrees below zero.

By the time their two-day odyssey was over, at least 80 were hospitalized with acute respiratory illnesses, including severe pneumonia. One died, and at least 40 — six weeks after the incident — remain hospitalized in the remote Siberian town of Magadan. Several more are undergoing medical treatment on the Kamchatka Peninsula.

The fate of 18-year-old Semyon Sorokin and 193 other army conscripts has horrified Moscow. President Vladimir V. Putin has demanded an investigation and punishment.

"This is why parents try to help their sons avoid the military service," Mikhail Sorokin, 44, an equipment manufacturer in this small Moscow suburb, said Thursday. "He's still in the hospital. I talked to him on the phone, and he told me, 'I got pneumonia because I got too cold.'

"For myself, I hope that the people who are responsible for allowing something like this to happen will have quite a lot of time to think about it when they go to prison."

The case has focused renewed attention on the Russian military, which despite years of reforms and modernization is beset with widespread cases of malnutrition, substandard medical treatment and beatings among the 400,000 recruits drafted each year.

Yeah, without those guys the coalition just wasn't the same.

Wasn't the same as a coalition that could accomplish this:

ARUSHA, Tanzania — The former peacekeeping commander during the Rwandan genocide told a U.N. tribunal yesterday that world leaders allowed the deaths of more than 500,000 people by feigning ignorance of what was taking place.

Retired Canadian Lt. Gen. Romeo Dallaire told the court that he could do little to stop the killing because his U.N. force had a limited mandate and an insufficient number of troops and weapons and that his appeals for reinforcements were rejected.

He specifically mentioned France, Belgium and the United States "as being uncooperative ... I did not get intelligence information from them."

Belgium ordered the withdrawal of its peacekeepers, the backbone of the operation, shortly after Rwandan troops killed 10 of its soldiers.

Belgium waffles?

And meanwhile, having lost his great friend and ally Saddam, Chiraq is busy patching together other coalitions. (You really must click this one.)

In contrast, lacking support from France, Russia, and Belgium, US unilateralism leads to this:

Afghan Ambassador Said T. Jawad praised President Bush for his encouraging words in his State of the Union speech and said Afghanistan is "proud" to be a partner with the United States in the fight against terrorism. "We appreciate President Bush's words of support for Afghanistan," said the ambassador, after attending the speech on Tuesday night. "We cherish the close partnership and enduring friendship forged between our two nations, which has yielded mutually beneficial results."

And this

JEDDAH (Reuters) - Joyful Iraqi pilgrims arriving in Saudi Arabia on Sunday said they would thank God for ending the rule of Saddam Hussein in prayers during haj pilgrimage but other Arabs were thinking of the U.S. occupation.

"I hope God will give Iraq strength and make it strong and united after all these years of pain, sickness and war," said Thabet Karim Jassem of Baghdad, part of 300 Iraqis who arrived at a haj terminal in the port city of Jeddah, near Mecca.

Jassem was among thousands of Iraqis that had been stranded on the Kuwait-Iraq border last week over visa problems.

More than 32,000 Iraqis were chosen by lottery to perform the haj this year, the first pilgrimage for post-Saddam Iraq.

"We remained nine days at the border, it was a very miserable time for thousands," said Bakkar Rasoul, a Kurdish eye doctor from Suleimaniya. "But I am really happy that we are free and God helped us to visit Mecca."

"I and many people are thankful toward the United States because they were able to release us and we will definitely never forget. I don't think any Muslim can forget this," he said, standing by Kurdish and Iraqi flags beside the Iraqi pilgrims.

Of course, not everyone on the left is transfixed by Pelosi's hypnotic glare.

Anyway, who is fighting in Iraq right now? The coalition is led by a Texas right-winger, which is a pity; but, in the second rank, by the prime minister of Britain, who is a socialist, sort of; and, in the third rank, by the president of Poland-a Communist! An ex-Communist, anyway. One Texas right-winger and two Europeans who are more or less on the left.

But even the author of that article later expresses doubt that many more will come around to his way of thinking. After all, if 911 wouldn't do the trick, what would it take?

A chance at the White House, perhaps?

Having tentatively joined Dr Dean's post-victory anti-war movement prior to establishing his alpha male dominance, could the current front runner change tactics at this point? If not, could one of this week's also rans, in an effort to appeal to those who'd appreciate a sanity plank somewhere in the Democratic party platform, suddenly declare support for America in the war on terror?

More to come...

Along With Drinks Some Food for Thought

A must-read here. Paul Berman calls for the left to support the American-lead international effort in Iraq.

Anyway, who is fighting in Iraq right now? The coalition is led by a Texas right-winger, which is a pity; but, in the second rank, by the prime minister of Britain, who is a socialist, sort of; and, in the third rank, by the president of Poland-a Communist! An ex-Communist, anyway. One Texas right-winger and two Europeans who are more or less on the left. Anyway, these categories, right and left, are disintegrating by the minute. And who do you regard as the leader of the worldwide left? Jacques Chirac?- a conservative, I hate to tell you."

Will the American Left respond? Probably not, as Berman concludes:

"But isn't George Bush himself a fascist, more or less? I mean-admit it!"

My own eyes widened. "You haven't the foggiest idea what fascism is," I said. "I always figured that a keen awareness of extreme oppression was the deepest trait of a left-wing heart. Mass graves, three hundred thousand missing Iraqis, a population crushed by thirty-five years of Baathist boots stomping on their faces-that is what fascism means! And you think that a few corrupt insider contracts with Bush's cronies at Halliburton and a bit of retrograde Bible-thumping and Bush's ridiculous tax cuts and his bonanzas for the super-rich are indistinguishable from that?-indistinguishable from fascism? From a politics of slaughter? Leftism is supposed to be a reality principle. Leftism is supposed to embody an ability to take in the big picture. The traitor to the left is you, my friend . . ."

But this made not the slightest sense to him, and there was nothing left to do but to hit each other over the head with our respective drinks.

More about Berman here.

Blog News

Discount Blogger has a new look. Success has clearly spoiled him. I'll bet the prices go up.

Jen Martinez has a new look. Nothing will ever spoil Jen. (Actually, her Blog has a new look, for all you smart fellers out there.)

eTalking Head has a new look and a lot more authors. It's now a group Blog. Check 'em out!

Lileks is guest hosting Hugh Hewitt's show today. If you are within a couple hours of post time on this (around 6PM eastern) you can listen live here. If not, you can listen to the archive show at the same site for the next 24 hours. Enjoy.

Lileks: "Tomorrow I co-host Hugh’s national radio show. Coast to coast! Should be fun, if I don’t suck like an Oreck."

Hopefuly he checked the sponsors?

Lunch with Dubya'

Or.. "Hey stretch, shut up and eat."

As part of his new immigration policy President Bush was recently visiting Roswell New Mexico to meet with the leaders of the Illegal Aliens...

Okay, actually the boss was in Roswell to give a post-SOTU speech on the War on Terror. "The site was chosen in part because of the International Law Enforcement Academy in Roswell, and the Federal Law Enforcement Training Center in nearby Artesia. Both agencies play important roles in training law enforcement officers to combat and respond to terrorist acts."

All of which led to this gem of an entry on the official White House web site. (Hat tip Sarah)

Remarks by the President to the Press Pool Nothin' Fancy Cafe Roswell, New Mexico

11:25 A.M. MST

THE PRESIDENT: I need some ribs.

Q Mr. President, how are you?

THE PRESIDENT: I'm hungry and I'm going to order some ribs.

Q What would you like?

THE PRESIDENT: Whatever you think I'd like.

Q Sir, on homeland security, critics would say you simply haven't spent enough to keep the country secure.

THE PRESIDENT: My job is to secure the homeland and that's exactly what we're going to do. But I'm here to take somebody's order. That would be you, Stretch -- what would you like? Put some of your high-priced money right here to try to help the local economy. You get paid a lot of money, you ought to be buying some food here. It's part of how the economy grows. You've got plenty of money in your pocket, and when you spend it, it drives the economy forward. So what would you like to eat?

Q Right behind you, whatever you order.

THE PRESIDENT: I'm ordering ribs. David, do you need a rib?

Q But Mr. President --

THE PRESIDENT: Stretch, thank you, this is not a press conference. This is my chance to help this lady put some money in her pocket. Let me explain how the economy works. When you spend money to buy food it helps this lady's business. It makes it more likely somebody is going to find work. So instead of asking questions, answer mine: are you going to buy some food?

Q Yes.

THE PRESIDENT: Okay, good. What would you like?

Q Ribs.

THE PRESIDENT: Ribs? Good. Let's order up some ribs.

Q What do you think of the democratic field, sir?

THE PRESIDENT: See, his job is to ask questions, he thinks my job is to answer every question he asks. I'm here to help this restaurant by buying some food. Terry, would you like something?

Q An answer.

Q Can we buy some questions?

THE PRESIDENT: Obviously these people -- they make a lot of money and they're not going to spend much. I'm not saying they're overpaid, they're just not spending any money.

Q Do you think it's all going to come down to national security, sir, this election?

THE PRESIDENT: One of the things David does, he asks a lot of questions, and they're good, generally.

Note the "Stretch" nickname - some in the press hate that.

And I wonder who chose the "Nuthin' Fancy Cafe"?

A Wordsmith of the highest caliber

Hugh Hewitt's dismantling of the entire slate of Democratic candidates in one eloquent paragraph is the finest bit of political writing I've yet to see on a blog:

But though my partisan instincts tell me that Kerry looks like the best nominee from a Bush point of view, still I love a good story, and the good story --nah, the really great story-- is still Dean and his Dean Dongs. Scrappy, refusing to quit, hated by the Clintons, and still not dead after eight days that would have killed Rasputin --the folks in some Democratic primaries have got to love that. Or maybe not. Some Democratic voters actually voted for Clark who is to politics what Mike Ditka is to dance. Clearly the electorate isn't thinking through the "electability" test very thoroughly.

Touché, as Kerry would say.

Read the whole thing. (As any blogger would add.) Hugh has some thoughts as to why Kerry might be "unelectable. (Isn't there a segment of the Democratic Candidate's Debate Handbook devoted to that concept: "Prove you're least unelectable"? Right next to "Who harbors the most Bushhate and how to prove it!", if I recall correctly.

More on M. Kerry here soon.

Memefighter week continues:

Sarah on the uncertainties of life. Meme in question? The body count.

Spolar the Spoiler?

Blackfive alerts us to this Cicago Tribune story, which may have crossed a line. Most disturbing to me is the response he got from author Christine Spolar. Boiled down beyond the bragging (or veiled threat) of "friends at the Pentagon" (me too) her line is "sorry, the public has a right to know." (And by the way, Ms Spolar, my friends at the Pentagon would like to know who your friends are.)

Audio of a radio call-in from Ms Spolar here. Once on line with the DJ she doesn't even pause to request Toby Keith's Taliban song dedicated to all her GI buds out there. She says, regarding the story's possible level of classification: "It's not something I think the Pentagon is handing out"

She then spews details with a degree of certainty that most mission planners I know would not share.

"Good scoop" the DJ tells her at the end of the call.

In warfare there's information and dis-information, right information and wrong information. So this may be disinformation. Or wrong information. Or not. If only one media outlet had this story that would be a scoop. But at least two have this story. (though one could have learned from the other.). Draw your own conclusions.

But as far as right to know, I have faith that Hook will let us know whatever we have a right to know. And if that is Chili contest results, then so be it.

Smash has more, including lots of links to other good folks. (And he offers his login for the tribune story.)

Update: On reflection I note a certain tone in Ms Spolar's radio call-in and in her e-mail to Blackfive that smacks of Braggadocio and leads me to doubt at least some aspects of her story. But on the other hand, the tendency to excessive bragging is a character trait of one who would compromise classified without a moment's pause just for a brief bit of spotlight.

Update two: And would also lead me to choose Ms Spolar if I wanted to plant a story in a major newspaper. Know what I mean? "Shhh... don't tell anyone else, Christie, but..."

A Mudville Birthday

Thirteen years ago today my youngest was born.

Actually it's not that simple, as we were half a world and many timezones and an international dateline away on the far side of Asia. A story in itself, but that and more will wait for later as we celebrate our youngest's entry into the world of teenagers.

In the meantime, time runs out at midnight eastern tonight to vote for these Milblogs in the Blogmadness tourney, and most of the contests are too close to call. Even Zogby won't make a prediction. Click the name to go to the page to enter your votes. You can vote for all these blogs if you wish as they are not competing against each other

Better Living Through Blogging

The Swanky Conservative

Evangelical Outpost

The Mudville Gazette

Post-New Hampshire, a hangover for some

In the interest of public safety I've decided to endorse Clark.

Because the more I read about him, the more I think he's liable to go on a bizarre killing spree if he doesn't get his way.

As the lunatic fringe is identified and eliminated through the Democratic primary process, will lefty bloggers switch allegiance?

And will John F. Kerry (the "F" stands for "forget the south" or something the south) become their new little darling?

After all, he can well afford to buy them lunch.

Memefighter Week

Baldilocks says, in a comment on this post regarding the worn-out "Bush was AWOL" screed:

You know, of course, that, with the election year upon us, we're going to have to keep hammering these things home again and again.

I'm up for it, as I'm quite sure you are.

Ain't it funny how so many of those specious claims will fall in the realm of the MilBloggers? Up for combat? Yes indeed, fair Juliette, I am. This week, in fact, is Memefighter week at the Mudville Gazette. Starting with that Bush AWOL Story.

I note that Blackfive and Smash have recently addressed the much discussed WMD question. More from here later, if needed, but since they've got interlocking fields of fire going in that direction I'll check six and discuss something a bit different soon.

First, we must coin some terms that may be useful, as I intend to use them routinely (and I offer them for public use too.):

When someone says/writes "There were no WMDs!!!" or "Bush was AWOL!!!" or "Bush failed to build a true coalition" they are likely committing one of two forms of verbal/typographical flummery: Leftspeak or Ignospeak.

The difference?

"Bush failed to build a true coalition!!!" is leftspeak for "France, Germany, and Russia (subject of a future post: "Eastasia was always our friend!") are against us". Most leftys know this and they'll never admit it. However, those on the left or elsewhere who truly believe there isn't an international coalition in Iraq, those who repeat this or any example of anything without fact checking, or at least pausing a moment for thought, may be guilty of ignospeak.

I don't mean this to be insulting. I'm ignorant on many subjects myself. I usually state so up front, if forced to comment in such an area. (The known unknown, to quote one of my bosses.) I also may be wrong because I lack critical elements of information (the unknown unknown). In such cases I'll readily acknowledge and correct myself.

Many Ignospeakers plunge forward without caveat or consideration, and often don't realize they have exited their area of expertise. Colloquially called know-it-alls, this type of ignospeaker will never stop or back down.

So does it matter then, whether someone says "Bush was AWOL!!!" as leftspeak as opposed to ignospeak? Probably not, since neither will reclama nor desist. And as Leftspeaker would refuse to acknowledge the truth and Ignospeaker likely wouldn't recognize it if it bit him on the ass, then no, it doesn't matter.

For another perspective, consider this. For fun sometime, if someone utters such a comment in your hearing, ask if they are saying it because they are stupid or think you are. Leftspeakers think you are, and will reveal this in facial expressions of stunned surprise that you have guessed their motive. (Whilst vocally responding otherwise). Ignospeakers will be stunned then angry. Again the facial expression is the key, so obviously this won't work on Blogs.

Of course, the left will say that since there is a leftspeak, there must also be an opposite, a "rightspeak". To which I would say "indeed."

The Madness Continues

The first round of the Blogmadness tourney continues. With a little over 24 hours left to go the contests are too close to call. The following MilBloggers could definitely use your votes.

Better Living Through Blogging

The Swanky Conservative

Evangelical Outpost

The Mudville Gazette

Bowling For Voters II

Part one here.

As Clark flirts with a Dean-style meltdown in the arms of Mike Moore, an intrepid PBS crew tries bravely to salvage something for some Democratic candidate somewhere.

DAVID BROOKS: As Mark said the questions were adversarial and you had to be ready for things, and Wesley Clark was not ready for them. He read some lavish praise that he wrote in London Times about the Bush war effort and the liberation and the possibilities for democracy, totally fumbled how he could square that article with his current position.

He was presented with something Michael Moore, his supporter, had said in front of him that George W. Bush was a war deserter; why didn't he object to that, which is untrue. Why didn't he object now, and he didn't do it at the debate, he didn't do it then and he came off seeming to me like a hater. Then the final thing was --

JIM LEHRER: A hater?

DAVID BROOKS: A hater. I think there are two kinds of candidates in this race: there are the ones who oppose bush and want to get him removed from office, that's most of the candidates. And then there are two who take it to an extra level, and who are always assigning bad motives to the Bush administration and that's Wesley Clark and Howard Dean. I think what we're learning over these two weeks is the Democratic Party prefers the first and not the second.

Implying Kerry is the first type? Don't be sure he won't yank the rug right out from under anyone making that claim on his behalf.

And yes, we'll leave exploration of the PBS use of the "hater" term for another day. But on somewhat of a side note the PBS piece ends with a remarkable hat tip to Ronald Reagan:

JIM LEHRER: How did you feel about Clark last night, Mark?

MARK SHIELDS: I don't know if I subscribe to Dr. Brooks's assessment there on the motives involved. But I don't, quite frankly. But I do think that Wesley Clark showed flashes of some eloquence, but I think he stumbled on the Michael Moore question. Jim, I've been around politics too long, I guess, but I remember in 1966 when a rookie candidate from California named Ronald Reagan was running for governor and the major issue in the Republican primary for governor, where Reagan was actually an underdog, was whether the candidates would accept the support of the John Birch Society, the kind of loony tunes anti-Communist group then prominent in California politics.

And Ronald Reagan had a wonderful answer, he said I seek the support, welcome the support of all freedom loving law abiding Californians, but because somebody endorses me means in no way that I endorse them. And, you know, that's the answer. You couldn't rebut it, you couldn't argue with it. And Wesley Clark stumbled on the Michael Moore question last night, no doubt about it.

So, can we expect the Democrats to borrow a page from Reagan's strategy guide? (Certainly, right after they they decide to join the war on terror on America's side.)

I'll leave the final word on Bush/AWOL to an expert, fellow MilBlogger and retired Air Force Reservist Baldilocks, who chimed in some time ago with what I believe to be one of the finest meme-killing blog posts ever composed (hey, you anger an Air Force vet and you're going to get carpet bombed, a'ight?):

...And, on top of that, if the member wants to take an extended period of absence from his/her duty for any reason—family, school, work in a political campaign, or just because he/she needs a break—he/she can do it with the unit commander’s permission. That’s it. That’s all that’s required. Not a flocking act of Congress, not some monetary exchange in a back room somewhere.

I know this, because I did it. Yes, little bald-headed black chicks can take a break from the Reserves if they want to, just like rich white guys. And I kept my money--and my virtue, such as it is--in my pocket when I did it.

Ain’t America great?

Does Dean Want the Job or Not?

Hugh Hewitt in some thought provoking posts speculates that Howard Dean may get a recharge to the campaign batteries in New Hampshire.

Dean, however, has once again attempted to shoot himself in the foot, this time with said foot in his mouth.

MANCHESTER, N.H. (AP) - Democratic presidential hopeful Howard Dean said Sunday that the standard of living for Iraqis is a ``whole lot worse'' since Saddam Hussein's removal from power in last year's American-led invasion.

``You can say that it's great that Saddam is gone and I'm sure that a lot of Iraqis feel it is great that Saddam is gone,'' said the former Vermont governor, an unflinching critic of the war against Iraq. ``But a lot of them gave their lives. And their living standard is a whole lot worse now than it was before.''

<...>

``Now I would never defend Saddam Hussein,'' Dean told the ``Women for Dean'' rally. ``He's a horrible person. I'm delighted he's gone. Would there not have been a better way to get rid of him in cooperation with the United Nations?''

Perhaps we could have sent some angry American over there to just kick his ass?

Update: Controversy rages:

Misha disagrees with me. He says Howie has both feet in his mouth.

Smash, however, agrees with just one.

Thanks Scott

I note from the recent referrel logs displayed in the "Cavalry" section of my sidebar that ScrappleFace has sent over 1000 visitors here. Nice that this milestone was reached in time for me to link one of Scott's finest posts ever by way of thanks.

Bowling for Voters

Apparently Mike Moore doesn't think retired General Wes Clark is a stupid white man. Indeed, the Hollywood hitman has embraced the general as his man for the job of president. To further boost his candidate's chances, the rotund one has, during an introduction of the candidate, referred to the current president as a military deserter. Which led to this uncomfortable (pour le general) moment on Meet the Press:

MR. RUSSERT: But words are important, and as you well know under the Uniform Code of Military Justice, if you're a deserter, the punishment is death during war. Do you disassociate yourself from Michael Moore's comments about the president?

GEN. CLARK: Well, I can't use those words and I don't see the issues in that way. But I will tell you this: that Michael Moore has the right to speak freely. I don't screen what people say when they're going to come up and say something like that. That's his form of dissent, and I support freedom of speech in this country, and I would not have characterized the issues in that way. I think this is an election where we have to look at the future, not at the past.

There are many troubling aspects to this. It could be dismissed if it was a one time ocurrence, but note this exchange from the New Hampshire debate.

JENNINGS: At one point Mr. Moore said in front of you that he'd like to see a debate between you and President Bush, who he called a deserter.

Now that's a reckless charge not supported by the facts and I was curious to know why you didn't contradict him and whether or not you think it would have been a better example of ethical behavior to have done so?

CLARK: Well, I think Michael Moore has the right to say whatever he feels about this. I don't know whether this is supported by the facts or not. I've never looked at it. I've seen this charge bandied about a lot. But to me it wasn't material. ... And I'm delighted to have the support of Michael Moore. ...

This story simultaneously illustrates Moore's ignorance of the military and Clark's feeble grasp of politics. Desertion is a crime the president didn't commit. Clark knows what desertion is, as a General and convening authority he is without a doubt familiar with the concept. His position that he is not familiar with his political opponent's record is ludicrous; ignorance of the opposition is unforgivable for generals and politicians alike. His assumption that the people will believe his claims to ignorance in this matter is pure arrogance, or a sign of the actual ignorance of his supporters. Finally, crime (in the military or civilian world) is not a matter of "feelings" or "opinion", and we don't need another president who thinks it is.

Scott Ott gets the last word.

(But I've got a folder on Clark. More to come.;)

Upate: More from Mudville here.

(And USA Today has a look at Clark here.)

BlogMadness!

The Mudville Gazette has an entry in the Blogmadness contest. In order to win, I need your votes. I think that as of midnight eastern Monday morning you can vote here. Details on how to vote can be found here. Modeled after the March Madness NCAA Basketball tourney, two Blogs go "head to head" in each round until ultimately 100+ entries are narrowed to one winner. Each round lasts three days, thus you have til Wednesday at 11:59 PM to cast your votes for round one. I would add that the good folks holding this contest are requesting that you read both entries in whatever matchup you're voting on. My entry is one of the Democracy, Whiskey, Sexy? chapters (here). My first round opponent's entry is here.

Vote please. And tell your friends. This could be a fun and long-running blog event. For those so inclined, there are a number of other MilBloggers entered, I'll link their portions of the contest here as soon as I can determine the correct links.

Update: I think these will be the correct links for other MilBlogger entries. You can vote for all of the following if you wish, we are not competing directly against one another:

Better Living Through Blogging

The Swanky Conservative

Evangelical Outpost

The Mudville Gazette

Blogging The President

Blogging Of The President posted a bit about Scott Ott writing in their coments that A Minnesota Public Radio Show called "Blogging of the President" tonight allowed listeners to call in and talk about weblogs, which are internet sites where writers write about things other writers have written about people who talk for a living while some of the show's writers updated the show's weblog with what the show's guests talked about in 'real time' so listeners could actually read what they just heard, call in and comment or write their thoughts in the comment section of the show's blog and that printed transcripts are available upon request.

To which I can only say "Heh"

The Shadow Forces?

The following paragraph is excerpted from Sean Penn's account of his late 2003 trip to Iraq (also covered here). As background, the renowned actor was recounting his unexpected encounter with individuals that he says claimed to be DynCorp employees, then adds, apropos of nothing in his story (other than a delusional "movie star's" sense of being in a thriller):

As an aside, DynCorp personnel, contracted to the U.N. police who served in Bosnia, were accused of buying and selling prostitutes, including girls as young as 12 years old. When several DynCorp employees were also accused of videotaping the rape of one of the women, employee Kathy Bolkovac blew the whistle on the alleged sex ring and was immediately dismissed from the company. DynCorp is a "top 25" government contractor, which posted $2.3 billion in revenues in 2002, according to Business Week. It is DynCorp employees who are the security force for the new Afghan president, Hamid Karzai. Former CIA Director James Woolsey is a primary stockholder.

As my own aside: this is deplorable behavior, for which the death penalty is too good. I will not make light of it, but perhaps Mr. Penn could some day provide details as to the outcome of this rape case? Apparently there's an abundance of evidence, but the only documented action I can find is that a British court found in favor of a DynCorp employee in a wrongful termination suit, and an out-of-court settlement was reached with another individual for the same reasons - wrongful termination. Was this some Clinton-era sex scandal cover up? Why is this story cropping up on left wing chat sites now with DynCorp getting contracts in Iraq and not years ago when it happened? See here, here, here, and here.

And note this interesting spin from an article in the Observer:

DynCorp, which has donated more than ?100,000 to the Republican Party, began recruiting for a private police force in Iraq last week on behalf of the US State Department.

The awarding of such a sensitive contract to DynCorp has caused consternation in some circles over the company's policing record. A British employment tribunal recently forced DynCorp to pay ?110,000 in compensation to a UN police officer it unfairly sacked in Bosnia for whistleblowing on DynCorp colleagues involved in an illegal sex ring.

Whoops! Although stating the donations to the Republican party, the time frame of the court case is obscured to "recently". And are we to assume that DynCorp has given nothing to the Democrats?

To be fair, the Observer piece does note this:

DynCorp has also been heavily criticised over its involvement in Plan Colombia, instigated by Bill Clinton, that involves spraying vast quantities of herbicides over Colombia to kill the cocaine crop.

A group of Ecuadorean peasants have filed a class action against the company alleging that herbicides spread by DynCorp in Colombia were drifting across the border, killing legitimate crops, causing illness, and killing children. The company denies the charges.

Certainly DynCorp earned that contract from Mr. Clinton fair and square on corporate merit, and never had to offer any deal-sweetening contributions to the Democratic party.

But if DynCorp's history of raping and murdering children is true, then given that the individuals Mr. Penn encountered in Iraq merely detained him long enough to determine that his video of their building did not reveal any security information, and noting that they then returned his equipment and sent him on his way, one might assume this shadowy group is behaving a bit better under the watchdogs of the current administration.

Sean Penn in Iraq

This should be news to no one: Sean Penn is none too bright.

Yes, that's a harsh judgment to pass on Madonna's first love, but nonetheless an inescapable conclusion, given this:

Sean Penn went to Iraq a year ago not as an actor, but as a father, a husband and an American. He made the visit, from Dec. 13 to 15, 2002, to learn about the American-Iraqi conflict from the people who were living through it. A year later, the week before Saddam Hussein was captured, Penn returned to Iraq to find out how life had changed after the American invasion. What follows is his account of what he saw.

Actually he went not as an actor, nor a father, nor a husband, and certainly not as an American. He went both times as a self-serving moron on his own imaginary jihad.

In his defense, there will never be any way to know what portions of Sean's story are true, which (if any) were written by him, or who may have helped him with the big words. Sean's tale was originally published as a two-part serial in the San Francisco Chronicle, but the Common Dreams website conveniently compiles both pieces into one complete chunk.

Among other exciting adventures, Mr. Madonna got to meet real American Soldiers. Note the condescension:

U.S. soldiers today are not what you'd picture if you grew up on World War II movies. Think younger.

Now add zits (some of them).

Wrong. Actually they're older. World War Two was fought by young men directly out of High School; Iraq is occupied by a professional Army. However, in all cases front-line infantry troops were mostly young men. Sorry your Hollywood vision of war was wrong, Sean, (Note to producers/directors with agendas: don't forget zits on the corpses when planning makeup and special effects for your Iraq war movies!)

This is not the war of yesteryear, with relatives waving our boys off on ships and losing all contact beyond a weekly mail drop. These are young people who, via the Internet, are reminded daily of the comfort and safety of home and are quick to express their desire to return to their families. I want to ask many of them their feelings about our occupation in Iraq, and some express thoughts on this issue without being asked. And their thoughts represent all sides of the debate. But one has to be mindful that these are young people who have lost friends to battle, and girlfriends, boyfriends, wives and husbands to distance. One wouldn't expect them to yield easily to the notion that perhaps the United States should not have sent them in the first place.

One would expect the American soldier will never yield to such a pathetic and cowardly bit of thinking, Penny. Sorry you couldn't get any anti-American quotes from a group who'd have reason to make them, if any one would. A rephrase of your sentence is in order: "I was shocked to find that in spite of the burdens they carried, the American soldier remains true to his country. In spite of having reaped so many of the benefits of freedom I turned traitor with less than one-tenth the incentive."

Next Sean relates his brush with the shadow people who are benefiting from Iraq's misery as he comes face to face with Dick Cheney's Halliburton cronies (warning: I've left Sean's profanities in place):

As darkness descends, the sound of gunshots intensifies. On this night I'm determined to make my way across town to meet with Rob Collier of The Chronicle.

My taxi arrives at about 9 p.m., and one of the staff of the Institute for War and Peace Reporting gives the Arabic-speaking cabdriver directions to the restaurant where I'm to meet with Collier (I'll get a goddamn lamb chop yet). I grab my video camera, slip the button to "night shot," and my driver and I hit the road.

It's about a 20-minute drive along a main artery through Baghdad. We're about 10 minutes in when, on the opposite side of the road, I see a U.S. military unit conducting a raid on an apartment building. I tape it from the car as we pass. I zoom in through the back windshield as doors are kicked in, and I stay fixed on the scene until we drift a block and a half away, when the image appears too small to be useful.

As I am about to shut off the camera, I sense a bright light over my right shoulder. Keeping the camera to my eye, I pan past the windshield to where on the right shoulder, six armed Iraqis mill about beside a sandbag- fortified position, housing a long-gunner in front of a nondescript building. We are moving into some traffic as I pan the camera through the passenger-side window. One of the armed men screams something in Arabic at me and raises his rifle toward my camera. We are suddenly stuck in traffic.

I switch off the camera and drop it at my feet as more rifles and voices rise and move toward us. I suddenly fear that my driver might attempt to accelerate and somehow escape. Every instinct tells me that the soldiers would fire on us if he did. I know he doesn't speak English, so I use the universal, "Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!"

He whoas and we are surrounded at gunpoint by six guards as they pull us from the taxi. There is a lot of shouting, and my driver looks frightened. We are ushered out of the illuminated area of the street and now, standing in a darkened Baghdad alley, my legs spread, arms extended, I am circled by six leather-jacketed Iraqis, their Kalashnikov rifles trained on me.

Here is what comes to my mind: "Dear Phil Bronstein, please accept my formal resignation from journalism. My understanding is that Giorgio Armani is sending a new linen suit to my California home, and I would like to supply it a body as intact as possible, as the suit is tailored. P.S.: I miss lamb chops. "

In lieu of explaining this in the Arabic I don't speak, I await the commander of this yet-unidentified militia. When he arrives, I am searched. It is not the casual search of amateurs, but rather of people who believe they are going to find a weapon. And then the commander speaks. He speaks in English, reviewing the passport and press credential he has pulled from my pocket. He speaks in good English. This man is no Iraqi. But I can't make out his accent. Perhaps South African.

And then he is joined by another man dressed in what I would call militarized CIA garb: combat boots with camouflage pants tucked into them, topped by a civvy shirt with an identification tag on a long chain around his neck that cannot be read in the darkness of the alley. This one speaks Texas. I'm asked the whys and wherefores of my presence and camera. I am informed that the building being guarded had been car-bombed the previous day and that they will need to review the videotape and detain me for as long as that takes. It seems they are concerned that their fortification is being, in some way, reconned for further attack. I ask with innocent curiosity who I am dealing with.

The Texan curtly informs me, "I work for DynCorp."

I ask for a business card.

Just as curtly, he says, "I don't have a card," then points at the chained identification around his neck, "only this ID."

Of course, we are still in the dark, and it is still illegible. Although the Kalashnikovs have by now been lowered, further questions don't seem to be on the invitation list. And rather than ask them to shine their own flashlights on their identification, I take the "Yes, sir," "No, sir" route as they check the car and its contents for weapons and explosives.

The Texan tells me that when the Iraqis under his charge complete their search, I will be permitted to check that the contents of my bag are intact. They sit my driver and me on a concrete curb, still in the shadows of the alley. I distract myself by rolling the word DynCorp around in my head. Something about "The Parallax View" comes to mind. Something with a scent, redolent of war profiteering.

A third officer exits the building -- another Westerner with a short, cropped beard. It seems it is his job to review the tape I had shot. We sit in the cold night air under guard as the three officers retreat into the building with my camera. It will be another half hour before they return. And the third officer returns my camera, acknowledging that I have only shot what could be seen of their fortification by any civilian on the street and they have not deemed it necessary to erase it. I thank them for their professionalism without commenting on their lack of humor.

When the deafening crack of an assault rifle blasts through the adjacent alley, I scan the faces of this war-experienced crew. There is not a single reaction to the gunshot among them. Evidently, we represent a greater threat than one more lump of lead screaming through the shadowy Baghdad streets at 3, 000 meters per second. My driver and I make haste.

As the rifle concussion vibrates through my head, so does the name DynCorp. I've since done a little research, and here's what I found: DynCorp is a ubiquitous presence in Baghdad. A PMC, or private military corporation, DynCorp was started in the late '40s and given a big recruiting boost by the post-Church Commission firings of thousands of CIA operatives by President Carter in the late '70s.

PMCs, and there are many of them, tend to be staffed and directed by retired generals, CIA officers, counterterrorism professionals, retired Special Air Service men, Special Forces guys and so on. DynCorp is a subsidiary of the benignly named Computer Sciences Corp. DynCorp forces are mercenaries. Their contracts have included covert actions for the CIA in Colombia, Peru, Kosovo, Albania and Afghanistan.

In 1999, the company claimed 25,000 employees. As an aside, DynCorp personnel, contracted to the U.N. police who served in Bosnia, were accused of buying and selling prostitutes, including girls as young as 12 years old. When several DynCorp employees were also accused of videotaping the rape of one of the women, employee Kathy Bolkovac blew the whistle on the alleged sex ring and was immediately dismissed from the company. DynCorp is a "top 25" government contractor, which posted $2.3 billion in revenues in 2002, according to Business Week. It is DynCorp employees who are the security force for the new Afghan president, Hamid Karzai. Former CIA Director James Woolsey is a primary stockholder.

But DynCorp is not alone. Electronic media companies employ a number of PMCs as well. CNN, for example, uses a company called AKE, a British security firm. Certainly, with CNN's high-profile correspondents and camera equipment ripe for pillaging, it's not hard to understand. But let's look at the case of another PMC -- Kellogg, Brown & Root, the company that has the security contract with the Palestine Hotel in Baghdad.

A subsidiary of Halliburton, it is in effect a private military at the disposal of a major American corporation and, at one time, at the personal disposal of Vice President Dick Cheney, who was chief executive of Halliburton.

Thanks to my corporate detention, I am 45 minutes late for dinner with Rob Collier.

So Dick Cheney made you late? It wasn't your fault?

Note the throw-away comment "as an aside", that during the Clinton administration while operating under UN auspices DynCorp employees were charged with videotaping the rape of 12-year old prostitutes. More on this here.

Of course it's understandable that CNN would have armed guards, considering their high profile, almost movie star status. But how utterly chilling, that Dick Cheney would have once been in charge of a corporation's shadowy security forces, similar to the DynCorp Texans (and how did he know the guy was from Texas?) that made Sean late for his dinner date after carefully checking his camera and returning it to him unharmed. If that's not enough to get you to vote against Bush this year, then maybe you need a thicker tin foil hat.

And here's a perfect example of ugly-American condescension: “He speaks in good English. This man is no Iraqi. But I can't make out his accent. Perhaps South African.” (Wow! Just like a movie villian!) Given the "this man is no Iraqi" quote no one can accuse Sean of political correctness or above-average intelligence. Of course, he could be simply practicing the fine ear for accents that is the hallmark of any truly great actor. This would also explain the “Texan” identification. Either that or Mrs. Penn raised a simpleton.

Fortunately Sean made it out alive, as you can read in the remainder of his lengthy tale, to which I offer this as a moral:

The world is a dangerous place, made more so by the presence of many stupid people.

And one good thing that could result: when your children ask you "What's an Idiotarian?" You can have them read of Sean Penn's visit to Iraq.

MilBloggers

No one in the blogosphere covers military issues more completely than Jen Martinez. From tributes to heroes, to introducing new military-related web sites (Kerry/Fonda '04?), to spotting the little-noticed doers of good deeds Jen does it all. And nobody does it better.

Updated

A much delayed update to my nearly finished Democracy, Whiskey, Sexy? Series is here. It's about time.

Really, time is what it's about.

Democracy, Whiskey, Sexy?

(NOTE: Part I is here, Part II is here, and Part III is here)

RETURN OF THE COLD

VI
YOKOTA AIR BASE, JAPAN, AUGUST 1990

The ramps are empty. This base is all about transport. The planes that should be filling this acreage wingtip to wingtip are now involved in one of the most massive efforts in the history of civilization; Desert Shield is full up and operational. Real war may be a reality. The cold war hardly over, the thaw of the collapse of the Soviet Union barely felt, and all hell is now officially set to break loose.

But across a relatively small sea from here is the Korean Peninsula, where the cold war has never ended. Each report heard of Saddam's military comes with a ring of familiarity to those in this theater. The same numbers, the same tanks, the same aircraft, the same guns, are all just north of the 38th parallel. Yokota is temporary; I'm inbound to Seoul this time, returning from a brief "business trip" to Japan. And all these missing planes mean one thing to an American toeing that little finish line for the free world: there is no quick back up coming. You are on your own.

Japan, Korea, Vietnam...

A part of the world that for most of the latter 20th century would prove to be the graveyard of too many American dreams, as seemingly endless wars are waged over lines drawn on maps in an effort to appease an "Evil Empire".

Japan thrives. One thing the US invariably brings to its vanquished foes seems to be peace and prosperity. The Japanese have used theirs to develop the Ginza, the most expensive real estate on earth and the epicenter of Democracy Whiskey Sexy for Asia. In twisted irony, our need for allies against that Evil Empire has resulted in our foe becoming the dominant economic force in the Asian Pacific.

Up from the ashes, to be sure. The first American bombs fell on Tokyo in April 1942, four months following the attack on Pearl Harbor. The Japanese, driven by Bushido, would prove to be the most bloodthirsty enemy ever confronted by the US. A maniacal fanaticism and worship of an Emperor as a god would result in Banzai charges, Kamikazes, and genocide to a degree incomprehensible to Americans.

So much blood. Not a drop of oil.

Saipan, over 3,000 US Army and Marine deaths, 30,000 Japanese soldiers, and 22,000 Japanese civilians killed by their own soldiers or suicide; victims of lies and disinformation regarding their probable fate at the hands of the Americans.

Iwo Jima, nearly 7,000 Marines would die over a 36-day period to capture a 7.5-square mile island, one Island closer to the mainland. Twenty-two thousand Japanese defenders would perish rather then surrender.

Finally, the Atomic bomb would bring a horrific end to one of the most violent chapters in world history. And nearly fifty years later I would watch the inventors of karaoke practice the art in a street festival near Tokyo.

Yokota Air Base 1991: off duty GI's or their spouses drive cabs, work the BX, stock shelves in the commissary. In contrast to Korea the Americans can not afford to pay sufficient wages to the local nationals to work there. Every GI drives a used Mazda RX7, the wife has a Toyota minivan, purchased at ridiculously low prices. The used car market in Japan is non-existent as seemingly every citizen buys new every couple years. In fact, GIs cruise the local Tokyo trash dumpsters for televisions and stereo components, thrown out though perfectly serviceable by the Japanese who upgrade to current state of the art every couple years.

Peace and prosperity purchased in blood. The reality of the modern world.

Democracy Whiskey Sexy indeed.

Not far away from that tranquil island, as a direct result of those lines drawn on the maps by the glow of the nuclear flash, the sons of those Marines from Iwo would fight their war. And be spat on in welcome upon their return home to the good old USA.

ENDEX; NEAR CAIRO, AUGUST 1987

Those who've 'been there' can recognize two distinct types of jet noise beyond the typical sound you can hear everyday. The first is the horrid piercing whine of the engines of the jet you deploy on; the second is that gloriously beautiful hum of the engines on the jet that takes you home.

Endex: end of the exercise. Pack it up, time to go. Into the van for another quick ride across Cairo; camels, dust, smells, people, donkeys, cars, and buildings from every century since the twentieth BC...

Allah did not will any pedestrians to die under the wheels of our van that glorious day, so we soon reached our departure point. Shortly thereafter we were airborne, bound for Spain for a brief stopover, then on to the US.

Never did get to go to Somalia that trip. And never heard anything other then rumors as to why.

YOKOTA AIR BASE JAPAN, 1991

The empty ramps mean I won't be returning to Korea the way I came six weeks prior. A lumbering, propeller-driven C130 flight across the Sea of Japan (The Eastern Sea to all Koreans forever). And forever was the seeming length of the flight, when the steady drone of the engines, the earplugs to reduce it, and the near-total lack of windows combined to create a strange isolation tank that you exist in for the duration. Or is endure the better word?

No, I leave Yokota by van for Tokyo's Narita Airport, one of the wonders of the modern world. There I board a comfortable flight for the ride home, courtesy of Saddam Hussein.

I relax as the G-Force of takeoff shoves me gently into the seat; soon we are safely away and turning westward into the setting sun. As much improved over my company's aircraft as these big civilian birds are, I still can't help but wonder what we'll do for backup if the ol' NK Horde crosses the border southward in the not-too-distant future.

TORREJON AIR BASE, SPAIN, 1987

Touchdown, then the sensation of controlled slowdown as the pitch of the jet engines on the C141 changes. Nearly everyone experiences those tense, clenched moments until they realize that they are moving at a speed sufficiently slow that they could reasonably expect to survive a bad thing happening.

Then the plane is taxiing.

We the passengers stay on board the C141 - this is a "gas and go". No comfortable seats here. These are like canvas cots along the fuselage of the plane, and webbing similar to old lawn chairs stretched behind us welcomes us to a new definition of comfort.

And Jeeps and other heavy equipment line the center of the plane, mere inches from my knees. One learns quickly not to put one's feet up on a wheel of a jeep, as unexpected turbulence could bring the jeep down with bad results. Presto, feet gone like magic.

"Unexpected turbulence?" I ask a crew dog; "I thought you guys had weather forecasting down to a science?"

He can't hear me over the noise and motions so; I indicate never mind. I try to get comfortable but it's no dice. I read some more Clancy. Man this plane is loaded heavy! And too hot on the ground and too cold in the air and... sorry, whining.

But soon it's go time. All filled up on fuel, my whirlwind visit to Spain is over all too soon. Back to the end of the runway we taxi, then after waiting forever the thrust is applied and our big, loaded, but fortunately jet-driven aircraft begins to crawl down the road to the sky.

Slowly at first, then faster; faster then running, a bike, a car, a train! Sitting facing into the center of the craft there is no gentle push into the seat, the force is sideways to a direction you have no support. The rhythmic thump of the wheels over the sections of runway now at a pace for imminent takeoff.

And that's when it all went black. Lights out and a sudden loss of engine noise, with a massive reversal of G Forces. All in a matter of seconds. Not good, I'm thinking, not good at all... we are slowing very quickly when we were supposed to be nose up.

No one is breathing...

America, 1976

Shots rang out. A pause, then again. No matter how prepared you are you still jump a bit when silence is broken so violently and completely.

It's a military funeral, but not for a man killed in war. This man survived his war, as most do, and came home and married and started a family and worked in coal mines during a brief period when coal was king. He saw turbulent times; mining disasters where good men died, the sometimes bloody rise of Unions and gradual improvement of his own condition and then the onset of a Great Depression. He and his wife raised five sons and a daughter during that time, and buried a son too. They moved through mining camps until eventually getting their own place on a hillside above a creek, with a barn out back, a bit of land flat enough to plant a few rows of vegetables, and thorny berry bushes that grew along the fences. At the bottom of the hill along the road that curved with the creek through the wooded hollow sat a country store. They owned and operated that store for quite a while; the few well stocked shelves kept folks from having to go all the way to town for just a few things.

Up the hollow at the end of the paved road was a district fairgrounds that sat empty for most of the year. Then for a brief and glorious late summer period it was transformed into a fantasy world of light and sound that could claim forever the heart and soul of a 10-year old boy. Years later he'd determine in retrospect that such a place, with its neon-blur eye candy, ear-splitting calliope recordings, and mouth-watering scent of cotton candy, roasted peanuts, and elephant ears may well be among the finest places on earth. Heaven may be that place for me, will have to be, at least on late summer or harvest-time Saturdays as the sun begins to set. And if there's fiddle music washing over it all from some nearby stage as the stars begin to appear in increasingly violet sky and the air is warm but breezy and everyday is Saturday then my joy could be complete...

But in our current world Saturdays become Sundays. And there at the far end of the paved road past the house on the hill above the country store, there just before you get to the fairgrounds that for fifty weeks a year sit so empty and seem so plain and too small to hold those magic things they contain the other two, there sits the church with the steeple and the wooden pews where the man who came home from "over there" in 1918 spent the last 30 years of his life's Sunday mornings. A Deacon of the Church, a medic on the battlefields in France. A medic on the battlefields of World War One who came home to life between wars to raise sons to fight in another. Who could want that? Having seen first hand the horror, he knew full well where they were going. I can only imagine the proud anguish he must have felt. The wonder if the task of straightening the mess that was Europe could ever be finished, and at what cost?

On that day in 1976 as the Nation celebrated its bicentennial and forgot about Vietnam the good man's sons, all survivors of their wars, carried him from his final visit to that church.

The third volley cracks sharply, and echoes off the hillsides, and fades into memory. Taps is played. An end to a life lived well, though not easily, and certainly not soft.

Taps played on a hillside in mining country in America in 1976.

Germany, 2003

Run with me.

Don't worry if you haven't lately, or don't have the right shoes, this run won't hurt a bit. It's virtual, of course. You can be 10 again, or 12, or whatever age you were when last you ran for the sheer joy of it. I run for many different reasons now and joy is still one of them. I'm grateful that I can run. There's joy in that. I've planned a route. Ready?

We're out the door. We walk across the patio, turn the corner around the house, and in three steps we are in the woods. Here we can start to jog, to warm up. The path under our feet is soft and smooth, the smells are of pine rather then the car exhaust and until we begin breathing harder later the loudest sounds we'll hear are the call of birds.

I start my watch, but the time is important today only as to total duration of this run. It's a short one - half an hour at a fairly easy pace - distance is not important but the hills along the route will separate this endeavor from a truly easy day. This initial stretch is flat though, the surface soft and smooth as I said, and will serve to work out the stiffness and minor aches that keep others on the couch.

A quarter mile through the woods and the scenery changes as we emerge from the trees and enter the farm country, our path now an unpaved 'road' between a horse pasture and a planted field. The surface is flat but uneven, closer attention must be paid to ankle-twisting ground below, especially those stretches where tire ruts are deepest. This is not a traveled road, so grass grows tall and disguises treacherous footing. But eyes can not remain on the ground; we run along a hillside, and though only half way up the view is fine. Hills roll in the distance on the far side of the valley below, fading from green to purple to grey in the distance. On roads below a few cars seem like toys and move slowly through the countryside. The entire scene, even the viewing perspective, is like looking at a model railroad layout on a table. A Gods-eye view of pastoral country, quiet and serene. The parallel to hill country in my past is unmistakable.

A tree line ahead marks the turning point in the trail. We're only a half mile along, but we've been speeding up ever so slightly as we've gone. Now we must think slower as a left turn takes us in an uphill direction. Running at our current pace on this early incline will render the remaining distance a bit uncomfortable. Not a steep hill, but a quarter mile at an increasing grade will still start the real heart rate increase and elevated breathing rate that indicate an entry into "the zone" - the just beyond comfort level I'd like to maintain for the duration of this run. The hilltop is in sight, a final push and we're there.

A ridgeline actually, with a paved, single lane road running along it, a mile-long strip of concrete connecting two small towns. Turn a 360 while jogging in place and claim the reward for every hill climb you'll ever complete: the view.

The path behind us has now joined the rest of the model railroad world; the tall trees of the woods we ran through now seem small. Turn forward though, for the path ahead is longer by far then that behind us. Blue sky above, but the air is turning to cool, some of the leaves of the hardwoods begin to hint at the breathtaking riot of late fall color that's still to come. The cool in the air is just enough to sting the back of the throat, and nothing like the winter cold that will reach into the lungs, steal heat, and exit as steam. For a runner though cold is infinitely better then heat. For me 45 degrees is just right, though I'd prefer the wind not to blow too hard with that. Today the wind is fine, just enough to counter the production of heat that accompanies this degree of effort.



We travel only briefly on this flat paved road. Just up ahead, where the ground is just wide and flat enough, sits the soccer field for the town below, on the far side of the ridge from where our journey began. We turn on the road that connects the field to that town and begin our descent. Downhill - a bit less effort then a hill climb perhaps, but challenging in it's own way. Gravity, that uncaring enemy of the climb, might now be our friend, but if so a treacherous one. Stomping down a hillside is a mark of the rookie runner, on the way to injury. We stress different muscles now, on the edge of control, but gliding easily, soundlessly forward. No rush, no rush... the runners high kicked in back at the top of the hill and we're cruising now... enjoy!

Ahead the little town grows closer. I'd seen it many times from above, a postage-stamp size town from that perspective, looking for all the world like the perfect German version of a Courier and Ives postcard village offering a year-round look at life in four seasons. Snow-covered winter with smoke curling upward from chimneys gives way to spring when the fields stretched out along the valley are brought to life. Summer arrives and the ground becomes a verdant patchwork green.
Autumn follows and the fruit trees planted neatly like soldiers in formation on the hillside are ready for the harvest. I'd never visited this side of the ridgeline until just a couple days ago when I saw the village transform from matchbox town to real as I descended on this road. Now we enter it together. See the large, two story houses on either side of us? Old but solid, and the closer to center we get the older they appear. These small German towns survived two World Wars, mostly without physical damage; the battlegrounds were in other countries and there was no industry here to attract allied bombs.

The comparison to hill country towns in America is unavoidable, inescapable. Homes, small shops, and people appear virtually indistinguishable from their counterparts across the Atlantic. Slight variations in architecture and clothing, and Opels instead of Chevys in the streets, but otherwise I'm sure I've found the archetype for many a small American community.

I have a high-detail Atlas of this part of Germany back at the house. Even though it's highway system is the envy of the world, the vast majority of Germany's roads are narrow country lanes, often unpaved and rarely traveled by traffic faster then bicycles. The countryside is crisscrossed with these roads, utopian for those like me who consider the run or ride through this scenic beauty as the highpoint to plan a day around. I scouted the route the other day, before that first trip through this town. I couldn't resist when I saw the symbol for "monument" on the map in the village center. What sort of monument could such a small town boast? Surely there were no more then one hundred homes here, and a hand full of shops. I had an idea what I would find, and mostly I was right. We're approaching it now.

The paved road beneath our feet is leveling out from the downhill, the effort required to maintain forward motion is increasing. A different set of muscles is in use. My stride is returning to "normal". Around the slight bend ahead is the center of town, and though we've said hello to a few folks along the way so far no cars have passed to force us to the side of the road. We'll slow our pace now to prepare for a brief stop at the monument ahead.

And there it is, just across the main street that intersects this one at the center of town. A small fenced area, gravel covered with nice garden type landscaping and a couple benches facing a five-column memorial. The center column is about fifteen feet tall, capped with a crucifix, and bears two dates. I'd assume the first is the founding of the town and the second the date of the erection of this memorial, though based on the state of the engraving on the other four columns it appears older then it reads.

Those other four columns bear lists of names below years. 1914 is the first year listed, then 1915 and so on, until about halfway down the second column a jump from 1918 to 1940. A 22-year break from war deaths, then increasing numbers for every year of the Second World War. Fifty-six names in total, the dead of two world wars from a town that now, 60 years later, consists of about 100 homes, perhaps a few more or less.

What a price to pay. Could any of the few families of this town be untouched? Most of the twenty or so last names are repeated. The last name listed first below 1914 is Schneider, and six more follow, four in the first war and 3 in the second. The supply of Schneiders was lower then, perhaps? Klinks, Wagners, Braums and others are listed. All German names, but all of which can be found in any American phonebook, or any American military graveyard.

My heart rate is slowing; we must resume our run soon. But note this: the last year listed is 1947, though hostilities in Europe ceased in 1945. Are the additional dead based on the year they died, or the year their deaths were discovered? Did they die then from wounds received years before in combat?

All I have are the names. No cause of death, no place of death. France? Germany? Russia? Poland? Jeep wreck, gunshot, plane crash, disease? The people of this town don't need that, I suppose. They know. And this strange American in their midst will not ask them. Not today. A quick prayer then and we're off on a different road out of the town.

It does not take long to exit that speck of a village, that small cluster of humanity that seems to have paid a high price for the madness of a few. The road rises slowly out of the valley once the last of the homes of the Schneiders are behind us. We are gradually climbing up the far side of the narrow valley from which we entered. We are passing the fields and orchards we viewed as a distant patchwork quilt from the opposite ridgeline, and the incline is becoming steep. There are no farm houses here, for farmers live in the villages and work the fields. Currently there are no farmers out; we have the world to ourselves here.