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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.
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.
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.)
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).
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 IllMOSCOW (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 ComfortLast 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...
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.
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?
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 Mexico11:25 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"?
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.
Sarah on the uncertainties of life. Meme in question? The body count.
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..."
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
In the interest of public safety I've decided to endorse Clark.
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.
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 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
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?
Hugh Hewitt in some thought provoking posts speculates that Howard Dean may get a recharge to the campaign batteries in New Hampshire.
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.
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.
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.
(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.)
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
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 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.
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.
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.
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.
(NOTE: Part I is here, Part II is here, and Part III is here)
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.
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.
Save energy, for after this long steady climb we'll have a choice. We could enjoy the view briefly then turn and take a straight and steep route back into the valley, then immediately climb straight to the top of the first ridge, then down to home. This is the shortest route, but neither the climb nor the descents are easy. The other option involves following this road, which you may notice is now rough and crumbling pavement, along the ridgeline through about 3/4 of a mile of dense and scenic woods to where it intersects the first ridge, then following the road along that ridge to our point we first joined it, then down the hill to home. Slightly longer but no steep climb. We can decide once we hit the top. We can't stop now though, we must after all, get home.
Please don't complain. After all, you agreed to join me on this run. You may feel better if you take in the view as we climb out of the valley. Spectacular. And not uncommon for this area. This beautiful and now serene part of the world has changed hands a few times in a once seemingly endless series of wars between Germany and France, and clearly a significant number of people in that town below us felt it was worth dying for.
I researched the name Schneider after my first visit there. It's literal translation into English is cutter, but its meaning is actually "German, occupational name referred to the tailor who made and sold outer garments." So Taylor then, for the English equivalent. I don't know any Schneiders, nor any Taylors, though I'm sure I've met several over the years.
Keep moving... we're almost at the top...
Did you know 17 Schneiders have their names etched in stone on the Vietnam Memorial Wall? I started counting 'Taylors' too but quit after 60. Seventeen Schneiders died for America in Vietnam. None were from West Virginia. Parts of Germany look a lot like West Virginia. I have an uncle who agrees with this. He spent some of WWII here as a POW.
Top of the hill at last, and I don't know about you but I'm sucking air and my heart's pounding like a jackhammer. A cliche, I know, but true, so I said it, though I can't talk too well right now. We'll go slowly until we return from this anaerobic intensity level, okay?
During Vietnam, West Virginia had the highest casualty rate in the nation, according to the U.S. Department of Defense. The state had 711 casualties -- 39.9 deaths per 100,000 people.
I did not know that before today. Just discovered that fact on The Wall page. West Virginia rightfully doesn't brag about it.
When my grandmother passed away some years ago the family spent long hours in that house on the hill sorting her lifetime's accumulation of things. My wife found a bible that belonged to my uncle - he did not want it. It's a hardcover, but showing its age, and probably signs of the rigors of its journey to that house. It's English language, King James Version...
And stamped on the inside cover is the imprint of the Stalag where he spent the latter part of WWII, having been shot down over Germany on a fighter mission.
I've brought that book back to Germany where it sits on a shelf in my living room. near a picture of my father in his army uniform from WWII and my Grandfather in uniform from WWI.
In my living room in a house in a small town in Germany; surrounded by hills and forest and tranquil beauty. What would be the thoughts of those who made this possible, at such high cost, to look upon this now?
Look at the view now. Did I promise you it would be worth the climb? You can see nearly the whole course we've run, stretched out behind us and over there on the far ridgeline. And look there, that's the road home, the route is in plain view. Or that longer route, if you'd prefer. It's mostly viewable except for the bit in the trees up ahead. I always tire a little in the valleys, when so little of the course is in sight. How is it I get an energy boost at the top of the hills when I can see the entire road, where I've been and where I'm going? Why are the valley roads sometimes such a chore? I know the road is there, why do I need to see it?
Part of the human condition I suppose. Come, rest awaits us at home, by the fire.
Though we've still got a long way to run.
America, 1976
The hillside service has ended, a folded flag has been presented to a grieving widow. This woman married a doughboy home from France and stayed married to him well over fifty years. He sent her letters home - his pet name for her was 'buddy', perhaps not extremely romantic, but obviously they were very much in love. I was privileged to read a few of those letters, but when he died she burned them all. A family tragedy. She will carry on without him for over ten more years but then join him in a place where one day I hope to see them both again.
A place that should look, at least sometimes, like that long ago fairgrounds on that Saturday night.
The mourners slowly depart. Evening is settling in. Time to go home to massive amounts of food made by folks from up and down the hollow. A few more days later still it will be time to leave these hills for the flatlands my family calls home.
By this bicentennial year only one of the man's sons still lives in his home state. The rest for the most part left in uniform for WWII and never really returned. Two served as pilots in the Army Air Force from that point through Korea and beyond Vietnam, and were only recently retired at the time of that funeral. One of them was shot down over Germany and spent more time there then he wanted, and then served all those years beyond. Another was an Air Force Weather Forecaster who moved on to a PhD and success elsewhere.
All drifted away and only one came back. And he by choice. And now, today, all their children are grown and scattered, and in some cases their children are too. And I'm not sure if more then two live in the same town anywhere. To the best of my knowledge, most are doing quite fine, thank you. Ain't that America?
But on that day in '76, one of those briefly returned sons stepped a little apart from the rest of the mourners, stooped and retrieved some objects from the ground. He moved among his nephews, and handed something to each.
I looked in my hand at the brass casing ejected from the rifle in the salute. I wondered if I would ever serve in uniform. I grew up in a time when this was not always a choice, in a nation with a draft, in a world where war in Vietnam was an ever present reality, ending truly with the fall of Saigon just a year prior to this funeral. Even then, in my mid-teens, I felt fortunate that the conflict had not claimed me or any one of my family; I grew up quite sure of the likelihood that it would.
I said thank you. I pocketed the cold brass. I got in the car and we drove back to the house on the hill above the store. My dad drove; my dad, class of '42, had served briefly in uniform before he came home and married the daughter of the man we had all said farewell to that day.
Married her and moved to a city with its own tall monument to the dead of many wars, in the midwestern flatlands where the sun sets behind tall buildings with fewer trees and no hills to block the view.
MORE TO COME...
A combination of two different hardware/systems problems knocked the Mudville Gazette "off the air" for a couple days.
Problems solved.
More to come.
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Eligible bloggers can of course, join the MilBlogs ring:
Current MilBlogs Members:
MilBlogger John of Argghhh scoops the world:
Junior Senator Hillary Clinton of New York was flying cross-country last night on her private aircraft and was forced to make a emergency landing in southern Texas because of bad weather.
The time is fast approaching when Blogs will always beat conventional media to the "big news". Is this one of those times?
Bill Whittle takes the lead on another chance for folks to "give back" and help US Marines and Iraqis alike. Spirit of America - worth a look.
And thanks, Bill.
The Georgia Democratic Caucus was held yesterday in Atlanta, and the winner was...
...the president gained the endorsement of several state Democratic politicians who joined U.S. Sen. Zell Miller, who has said he would campaign for Bush.Former Atlanta Mayor Andrew Young, who fought alongside King during the 1960s civil rights movement, also attended the fund-raiser.
<...>
"I want a commander in chief who can and will make a decision," Miller said. "I want a president who will not flinch."
Along with Miller, 11 state House Democrats were on hand to endorse the Republican president. They were introduced by Republican Gov. Sonny Perdue, a former Democrat, who called them "folks who used to be like I was."
Several of the legislators are chairmen of powerful House committees. "Of the people running now, I'm going with the president," Rep. Bobby Parham (D-Milledgeville) said of the current presidential candidates.
Rep. Carl Rogers (D-Gainesville) said, "I got a son in the military, too, and I have to support him." Rep. Mike Boggs (D-Waycross), who is serving his last year in the House and is running for a Superior Court judgeship next year, said: "There's a lot of conservative Democrats in the Georgia Legislature who support President Bush. I don't think it's controversial at all."
Other Democratic House members backing Bush are Reps. Ken Birdsong of Gordon, Robert Ray of Fort Valley, Johnny Floyd of Cordele, Jeanette Jamison of Toccoa, Mickey Channell of Greensboro, Penny Houston of Nashville, Mike Snow of Chickamauga and Charles Jenkins of Blairsville.
The legislators were joined by other Georgia political figures, including Griffin Bell, who was U.S. attorney general in President Carter's administration. "I support President George W. Bush for re-election because his leadership is crucial during this time in our nation," Bell said.
The president also pushed his faith-based initiatives during his speech. He has emphasized the advantages for black communities.
Young, U.N. ambassador in the Carter administration, said he had no problem with that message. "Everything I've ever done in my life has been faith-based," he said.
Young said he had collared some time with Bush to talk about trade with Africa. "I've had as much access to this president as I've had to any president," he said.
Guess these guys don't drive pickups with confederate flag decals.
(via Blogs for Bush)
Have you read this story of a banged up hero on Smash's blog?.
I was reminded of it when I saw this
Since America went to war in Iraq last year, newspapers and magazines across the nation have been filled with the stories of those who have fallen in the line of duty.But the names and hometowns of the thousands of servicemen and women who have been wounded in action are harder to come by.
Chief among the reasons for that are federal regulations that prohibit the Pentagon from releasing information about individuals who have been injured in the 10-month-old conflict. All of that data is "protected information," Pentagon spokesman James Turner said.
Why the scare quotes around "protected information"?
Have you ever called a hospital and asked for the names and addresses of everyone treated for Aids in the last year? Or for Bronchitis, for that matter. It's private information. It's not your business. Even if you are a reporter with an agenda.
The page only presents a partial picture of the wounded, however, because it excludes noncombat injuries and instances of battlefield-related stress, according to John Pike, director of the Virginia-based defense Web site GlobalSecurity.org."There are a bunch of those," Pike said.
In fact, Pike said, the number of wounded in Iraq exceeds experts' expectations and points to an "operational intensity" rivaling the war in Vietnam.
And there you have it, the Quagmire! Note the lack of quotation marks around the alleged quote above. The pundit couldn't even find one direct quote supporting what seems to be his position: we could sell the public on the horror of war if we could just get in touch with these guys!
Eventually they will find someone, of course, some tragic new Ron Kovic to be celebrated by the left. But they won't find them by asking "the Government" for names of wounded, anymore than they will the names of people who weren't guilty of any crimes on 911. Privacy matters, right?
Until that day, here are some quotes from the parents of Capt. Kimberly Hampton, U.S. Army helicopter pilot killed on Jan. 2 when her helicopter was shot down by enemy fire in Iraq.
Capt. Hampton's parents aptly summed up their feelings for their daughter, expressing appreciation for "the outpouring of support." They added, "We also want to convey the pride we feel in the job our daughter was doing serving our country and to express our deepest support for the men and women of our armed services and their families who continue to make sacrifices each and every day in protecting our freedom and the freedom of others around the world."
And this from a young person following in her footsteps:
"It hurts because everybody is connected," said Elizabeth Young, 17, an Easley High senior and junior ROTC member, as Hampton had been 10 years earlier."We may not have been the same year, but she was in my place, she was taught the same things by the same teachers."
Young said she still looks forward to being a part of the military...
"With the military, it's always a risk," Young said, but also an honor.
Lots of people are accusing Blackfive of using photoshop, but if he does I can't see it.
Saddam's hair really looked that way.
Just updated my Democracy, Whiskey, Sexy post. This completes Part II.
Some may notice the thread about weather that runs through the tale. Weather has a huge impact on military ops, "from the mud to the sun" as they say.
But chapter IV is not about weather. Written at a time when "what did Bush know and when did he know it" was the buzzword of the whining crowd (and it still is) it is my attempt to offer insight into a process by which people with responsibility must make decisions based on limited information. Many folks lack the courage to do so, even when the time to wait before acting is long past.
Another indicator of timing, chapter III was completed at around the time Uday and Qusai were killed. Later I would use the "hero of the American Left" phrase again, when Saddam was captured. At that time I had forgoten my first use. Un-noticed in the first instance, the second touched off a small firestorm. Ain't life funny?
And here, by the way, is a much better story of weather and a warrior. Don't miss it.
(NOTE: The story began here)
FEELING THE HEATIII
INTERLUDE - SAUDI ARABIA 1991
The story was told to me by a friend who was there.
The Command Center for Desert Storm is a furious hub of activity, with everyone focused on the goal of liberating Kuwait and ending forever the threat that Saddam Hussein posed to the region and the world. One fine day however, a pair of Saudi nationals were infuriated to find contraband on a desk - a Bible left out in plain site by one of the infidel pigs trying to defend the sacred Saudi oil soil. Outraged, they called for justice to be meted out swiftly. But to avoid an international incident the perpetrator was quietly returned to the US on the next available plane. The following day everyone stationed in the center had a Bible sitting out on their desk.
My first thought on hearing this story was that this was an amazing display of faith and solidarity among brothers-in-arms, then I realized the more likely reality of the situation; everyone was looking for that plane ticket home. There's a great line in the movie version of MASH; Duke, watching the MPs drive off with Frank Burns in a straitjacket, turns to Colonel Blake and says:
"Fair's fair, Henry. If I ___ Hot Lips and jump Hawkeye Pierce, do I get to go home, too?"
There is no Stella Lager in Saudi. The Saudis do not want beer or Bibles in their country; if you're going to be given the honor of shedding your blood on their sand you will do so without otherwise defiling it with your filth.
Or, stated officially, the Kingdom has many customs and traditions that we will respect to the utmost.
Regardless of the motivation of those who placed their Bibles on their desks that day, the event raises questions. Do the Saudis so fear the power of the Book? Do they think that nothing of their religion or lifestyle can thrive in its presence? Are they worried that the Word, left to spread unchecked through the kingdom, could transform it in some way?
Strange behavior for a people convinced of both their rightness and their righteousness.
What kind of angry people might a country lacking Bibles and DemocracyWhiskeySexy produce?
BARKSDALE AFB, SEPTEMBER 11 2001
Images are beamed into the ops center; the towers are smoking like chimneys over the furnaces of Hell. Damaged but not yet fallen. No one knows and everyone suspects what's going on. Osama Bin Laden is not unknown to us. The guy I share an office with is hanging up the phone; he was talking to a buddy at the Pentagon.
"Learn anything?" I ask him.
"He hung up...he said 'I've gotta go, the whole building just shook'.. and he hung up."
Damn.
Ten minutes later that's on TV too.
There's been very few times in my life where I've experienced any real overwhelming emotion. Especially that powerful sense of...grief, for want of a better word. The sort that moves through your body like a mild but numbing electric shock, that causes a tremor in your soul, a lump in your throat and yea, that inexplicable response from the tear ducts. I don't care who you are and how tough you think you are you too will experience that feeling if you get to look in person at the little chairs in the Oklahoma bombing memorial. When I first heard of the memorial and saw photos I didn't get it...chairs? Then I saw it in person.
You approach and pass the makeshift memorials outside (at least you did in 2000) and this is hard to take. Teddy Bears for the kids who will never grow up, pictures of mom and dad... this stuff even in memory rips my heart from its spot in my chest and jams it somewhere in my throat. And this is just the warm up, tough guy.
Once in the ground of the memorial you first approach the chairs from a little distance. For me I had to walk a little closer before I was paralyzed at the sight and the reality and the mind numbing thought of all those kids...
Remember that day? I remember seeing that on TV (who doesn't?) and thinking immediately it was the Arabs but then immediately dismissing the thought. It wasn't right. This wasn't their kind of target. There's no way to explain that hunch, it was just there. And when I heard a TV reporter relay a rumor about a swarthy middle-eastern type having been spotted near the scene I knew it wasn't an attack from that quarter; to this day I can't say why. I knew knee-jerk reaction when I saw it. Then add this: Arabs, when they commit these unspeakable acts, take credit almost immediately. Their motive is not destruction of buildings; their desire is to inspire terror and thus fulfill their quest for some twisted version of glory in the eyes of their perverted version of god. This requires loud claims of responsibility immediately following each new act of degradation, each new lowering of the bar to a point where humans were previously convinced that none of their fellows could sink.
Is this then, our vulnerability? Our tragic faith in the fundamental goodness of humankind? Despite innumerable warnings from God and man through history we will choose to believe in the best intentions of our brothers. And we will concern ourselves for the well being of people who would gladly take up arms against us if it would raise them one half step above their current station in life, or guarantee them a spot in the fast lane of the heavenly highway.
I have been to Oklahoma City, long before the bombing. It's a great town; I could retire there and live out my days in peace among wonderful people. I could live in peace partly due to the fact that although OK City represents everything that the Muslim fanatic would want to blow up, that many of them long for the day when they can put that town to the sword too, that it's way down on the list.
But not for an American. An American would intuitively grasp the significance of striking in the heartland. And an American did, and was caught and was put down like a dog.
But it's a strange dichotomy, isn't it, that people want safety and to believe their town is worth destroying? That an enemy of all that is right and good would surely want to target us first, would they not? I recall from cold war days (and have seen it discussed in blogs) those who would make an imaginary count of Russian Missiles aimed at them. "Well, we've got the plant that makes widgets for Army Doohickeys, so I know they've got us in their sights! We'll get nuked early on when the balloon goes up!"
It's bizarro bravado born of human pride. The same thing happened along the west coast to start WWII - the Japs are coming right here! And the same thing happened all over America in the wake of 911.
Everyone knew that their kid's soccer game was the obvious next target.
OK City had the mark of a domestic attack. The slims are neither subtle nor cagey enough to strike the heartland; they don't get it. But when I saw the second tower struck, live on a giant screen on an operations center wall, I knew it for what it was, we all did. Go time. Have you seen the one with the Eagle sharpening his claws, with the words "The terrorists have won the toss and elected to receive" written bold?
I can tell you this, for those who could not do something, I feel your pain. The one thing that kept me going was that I at least knew I would be a small part of the pay back.
Here then, is America on the cusp of the millennia; star-spangled glory and the hope for the free world. A nation still rising from a barbarous past and cloaked in a mantle unwanted by some and nearly too heavy to bear; Beacon of Freedom, Arsenal of Democracy, Chosen of God, and Dispenser of Infinite Justice. Bane of evil; unimpressed by bravado of those who would bring us down; we choose our own destiny. Scarred but not scared, neither fearless nor afraid, a force to be reckoned with, and unbending to the will of any man or nation that would have us fit their personal definition of what we should be. We are the greatest nation in the history of the world. Imperfect? Yes. Nazi Germany was more focused, Saudi Arabia is more unified. Without sin? Hardly, that barbarous past will still require some attention and many will never be willing or able to move on. Show them all the pity we can. Little else should they receive.
We are Rome and not Rome. We are right and wrong, we are the best and the brightest and the worst of the world today. We are not half measures. We are frequently extreme, and here voices of temperance are often shouted down.
We are the dangerous hope for the future of mankind.
And everything that makes us great makes us a target for the petty. Our perhaps misguided faith in fellow man renders us attractive to friend and vulnerable to foe. Our fantastic success as a nation, summed up for some perhaps by the concept of Democracy Whiskey Sexy, is seen as absolute failure by others. Our ability to worship as we choose is an intolerable evil for many.
We want all the things that make us a target. And in spite of those misguided and vocal few who would oppose us from within, we are indeed willing to fight to preserve those many things, those blessings of liberty, for ourselves and our posterity.
We are imperfect. We are not to be underestimated.
Yesterday I stood in the shadow of an edifice of ancient Rome. A massive structure, a surviving gate from an ancient wall around a fortified city on the edge of the Empire. And nearby stands a Cathedral, and within are examples of the greatest works of the hands of men of the past thousand or so years.
Civilization, greatness, and glory. Higher purpose. Things beyond the transient life on earth of any single human. An unbroken line runs from that ruined gate through that man-built house of God to us. Our civilization, refined in a Rome that allowed that Church to thrive. Our civilization, preserved by that Church through dark ages, even while human weakness ran rampant through the walls of that same house of God.
Ironically a line that stretches even farther back, through the pyramids and then to Ur.
Our civilization, and all that which brings us hatred from our enemies and jealousy from our friends.
Though I would prefer you not to, I will defend your right to trivialize it should you choose to sum it all up with Democracy, Whiskey, Sexy.
As perhaps in further evidence of the dichotomy of our greatness, I will defend the rights of those misguided few who would oppose my defense of their rights.
And to them, and to those who would shout of moral equivalence or that we are "different but not better" I can say only this: I am a realist, with no time for your world of make believe. Sleep well.
And tonight as the sons of Saddam go to sheol, those heroes of the American left, those premier citizens of old Iraq who enjoyed more whiskey sexy then the rest of their country combined, I will continue to wonder if that man on the roadside watching the US forces roll unstoppable down a righteous and swift path towards Baghdad spoke longingly of his deepest desire or trembling at his greatest fear.
IV
THE DESERT NEAR CAIRO, 1987
Did I mention the heat? Did I mention the sand?
Did I mention that everyone had a copy of a little red book? A just-published paperback called Red Storm Rising. It was everywhere. Speculative fiction, but Clancy got it right. And we were Clancy's military and damn proud of it. Light years from the low point of doubt on the brink of despair to which the seventies brought us; exemplified by the wreckage of a helicopter at a lonely spot called Desert One. By 1987 we knew we were the best; and three years later we would prove it beyond all doubt in the sands of Iraq and Kuwait, although one year before that we would realize our greatest triumph, the breaking of the Berlin Wall.
One of Clancy's unlikely heroes in that book was a weather officer, an ordinary guy in extraordinary circumstances. Yes, the military has its own weather people, both up front and center and in the rear with the gear. More accurately, actually, with the commander. Of course, weather, as much as anything, brought about the tragedy of Desert One. An unforecast dust storm rendered the area inhospitable to military operations. Rumor has it that the commander of the Air Force Global Weather Center lost his job over that.
Weather for Egypt in 1987 was hot.
Weather in Korea forever was too hot in summer, too cold in winter, and too rainy in the rainy season.
Baghdad in 2003 is also hot. In March a dust storm would briefly halt the advance of the Army and Marines. However, there's a big difference between this and Desert One in that this event was forecast well in advance and thoroughly planned for; very focused ops would continue where the weather would allow. Still this didn't stop an overly excitable media from gleefully making it's first attempts at depicting a "quagmire". (Not until the rescue of Jessica Lynch would they take a brief pause from bashing the planners. Soon thereafter they would even attack that great moment with vigor.) In a similar vein in 1990-91 the media and their "experts" would claim repeatedly that US "high tech weapons" would prove useless in the blinding sands. The assumption was we had learned nothing since 1980. We had, but Tom Clancy was the only person writing about it.
We know the Desert. We were learning it thoroughly in 1987 and for several years prior. We know the weather of the Desert and we use it as best we can to our own very lethal advantage.
"War is a matter of vital importance to the state; a matter of life or death, the road either to survival or to ruin. Hence, it is imperative that it be studied thoroughly.
Therefore, appraise it in terms of the five fundamental factors and make comparisons of the various conditions of the antagonistic sides in order to ascertain the results of a war. The first of these factors is politics; the second, heaven; the third, terrain; the fourth, the commander; and the fifth, doctrine. Politics means the thing which causes he people to be in harmony with their ruler so that they will follow him in disregard of their lives and without fear of any danger. Heaven signifies night and day, cold and heat, fine days and rain, and change of seasons. Terrain means distances, and refers to whether the ground is traversed with ease or difficulty and to whether it is open or constricted, and influences your chances of life or death. The commander stands for the general's qualities of wisdom, sincerity, benevolence, courage, and strictness. Doctrine is to be understood as the organization of the army, the gradations of rank among the officers, the regulations of supply routes, and the provision of military materials to the army...
...If you know the enemy and know yourself, your victory will not stand in doubt; if you know Heaven and know Earth, you may make your victory complete."
THE DESERT NEAR CAIRO, 1987
"Where's the weather guy?"
"Anybody seen the LT?"
Panic mode is near. A few folks are scrambling, more will be soon.
"He's got three minutes..."
The briefing to the Commander will commence in three minutes, and the weather guy is always first.
"If he don't show up on time we start without the sumbitch."
Meaning if he doesn't show up on time he will be a sumbitch.
We are, after all, in a relatively small tent city. This mission brief like all the briefs before it has been scheduled well in advance. There are no traffic jams or flat tires or alarm clocks to worry about on the way to work. It's one of the great benefits of being deployed.
I turn to the guy beside me. Quietly: "Where is he?"
"Hiding in the shitter, finishing his charts."
"He should of had 'em done..."
"It's weather. It changes."
"Yea, okay, sure." Check watch. "One minute."
The field latrines are wonderful here. By wonderful I mean nowhere near wonderful. Wooden frames with canvas hanging from them surround a hole in the ground beneath a long wooden bench with four holes cut into the top of it. A great equalizer as the lowest ranking guy can find himself elbow to elbow with the commander if his timing is just right. Not the place you would want to work by choice, but our intrepid weather officer just needs a little more time.
The Weather NCO is standing by to brief in his place, but he hasn't been able to find the briefing charts. Suspicion is that he knows exactly where the LT and his charts are but his lips are sealed.
"Thirty seconds"
The tent flap parts and the LT hurries in, poster boards under his arm. The boards go on to an easel in front of an array of camp chairs and he stands at parade rest beside it. Occupying the chairs are the top dogs from each section. Within this tent life or death decisions will be made.
The First Sergeant: "Gentleman, the commander."
Everyone in the tent stands.
"Be seated..., as you were..., good morning!" The boss enters and sits. ""Little trouble in the latrine this morning, LT? I know how you feel. A few weeks of this food does that to a guy."
Laughter through the tent, not too loud. The LT, sheepishly, smiling, "Yes sir."
"Well, if you're okay now then go ahead."
Stronger voice now: "Yes sir." and the briefing begins on time, like clockwork. "It's hot." More laughter, but then everything turns serious. There's a big mission tonight and weather may be a factor with a possibility of fog for takeoff.
Now nobody's smiling. Visibility below one half mile is a no go for takeoff, at least for exercise purposes.
The Boss: "So how bad will it be?"
LT: "Should be okay, but just by a skosh. Intermittent conditions could bring us down briefly..."
"Got it. Thanks. Anyone else with questions for the LT?" Of course there are not. If there were questions to ask The Boss would have asked them. Still a brief silent pause before "Okay then, Intel is up. Watcha got?"
And like magic a different LT is now up and briefing. Weather briefs the obstacles nature will throw in the way of the mission, Intel briefs their expectations of the intensity of the enemies opposition to our activities. Since this is an exercise, the Intel portion is scripted, but everyone engages in a bit of "make believe" for the sake of reality.
"So you are telling me those SAM sites are likely gone?"
"Yes sir."
"And you don't think the bad guys moved more in overnight..."
"No sir."
"....based on...?"
"We don't think they had anything in range that wasn't already dedicated..."
"But they did have some they could have moved if they wanted?"
"Yes sir, but..."
"It's a WAG, LT, I know. Good enough. Your efforts are appreciated. You're doing great stuff"
A WAG is an acronym for a Wild-Ass Guess.
"WAGS are us, sir" Says the LT as he pulls his last chart from the easel.
"You and the weather guy both" adds The Boss.
"Sir," pipes in the weather LT, "we do SWAGS."
Heads turn to the weather guy, now in the back of the room.
"Scientific wild-ass guess..."
Brief laughter, then "I think it's more art then science, LT. Okay Chuck, maintenance issues. Go."
The maintenance officer has a slightly easier job here, his information is concrete. A busted helo is a busted helo, and there is an art and science to explaining to The Boss why something that was broken yesterday is still broken today.
It's the weather and intel part that throws the degree of uncertainty into operations. Those in the know understand this uncertainty is there. Decisions, nonetheless, must be made. This is a responsibility of command, this is "why they get the big bucks". No one anywhere expects a perpetual one-hundred percent accuracy from the weather forecast. It's guidance, and anyone with a vague grasp of chaos theory knows a small part of the things that can go wrong.
The degree of uncertainty vanishes only in hindsight. A weather forecast, like intelligence analysis, is not "bad" before the fact. It is a known best guess. An attempt is made to bridge a chasm of ignorance with as many facts as possible, but rarely if ever, is that bridge complete. Usually a leap of faith is required, and until the leap is actually taken the length of the gap is not known.
"In the beginning of a change, the patriot is a scarce man, brave, hated, and scorned. When his cause succeeds however, the timid join him, For then it costs nothing to be a patriot." -- Mark Twain
If only that were still true! Because the gap is always there. A timid or cowardly person would never take that leap. A vulture would immediately heap scorn on any heroic failure, but now these same vile cowards would even criticize a successful jumper after the fact. Those who must jump should pity the timid (who may gather their courage and make the jump themselves having seen the example) and simply ignore as best as possible the reprehensible actions of the rest, except as they may influence the decisions of the hesitant. That their poisonous taunts could paralyze a generation or more is unacceptable to any person of true courage. But perhaps among the wise the brave one's example is the best counter to this.
And that is true of every decision made in life. Leaders know when to jump, when to wait, and when to jump even though waiting seems the more attractive course.
Perhaps Teddy Roosevelt said it best.
"It is not the critic who counts, not the man who points out how the strong man stumbled, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, and spends himself in a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows in the end the triumph of high achievement; and who, at worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat."
That night:
The Nile Delta is close enough that fog forming there rolls in to our location. We are now officially "socked in", a pre-dawn grey world where visibility is near zero.
Sound travels though. Right now the sound of a large aircraft running up its engines while sitting on the end of the runway nearby drowns out everything else. This mission is weather delayed. Take off should have occurred a few minutes before, but visibility of at least one half mile is required before this plane can launch. The fog is lifting, but too slowly, and we are just approaching one-quarter mile now.
The plane is a C130 Gunship, a classic old bird modified for special ops. This is an exercise, a training mission, but still important, and dependent on several things all happening simultaneously. Delay is unacceptable.
A weather observer is standing near the runway. Everything now waits on his call. He holds a radio and is in constant contact with the aircrew and the ground control. Calls to him are repeated and of increasing urgency.
"Weather one, ground, vis check?"
"Ground, weather one, still holding one quarter..."
Repeated again and again until
"Weather one, ground, now?"
"Lifting a little, but still officially..."
Then a change in the pitch of the engine sound, and the plane is accelerating down the runway. Never seen but heard, roaring off into the Egyptian sky.
No more time to wait for Allah to will the fog away...
The observer returns to the weather station and begins to fill out the form that documents the "official" weather at takeoff. Anything less then one half mile in this form could be evidence of wrong doing on the part of the air crew, but would certainly absolve the observer of any culpability should something have gone wrong.
Someone else enters the tent "I can't see my hand in front of my face out there. What's the visibility? I can't believe those guys took off..."
"Just a skosh over a half mile at takeoff."
"You gotta be kidding me."
"It went back down just after they launched."
The weather observation is now fully documented, "on paper" and official. The observer starts making coffee. Hot water over instant coffee from an MRE.
"Hope it lifts before they come back." Says the visitor.
"Probably will." Says the observer. Takeoffs are easy, landings are tougher, but all planes that launch do return to the ground. "Sun will be up before then and burn this off. Want some coffee?"
PANMUNJOM, KOREA, 1990
Just past dawn. The only fog is in my head, having been in the happy mountain club a few short hours before. The weather in Seoul is good too.
Which is a blessing for the guys in the formation near by, practicing and prepping for the big Dog-and-Pony show for the VVIP visit.
The visit that I know has been cancelled. Weather in Seoul is good, weather here is good, but somewhere in between the weather is below minimum acceptable for helicopters to transport a VVIP.
Or so I'm told. Weather is a handy reason to change plans, isn't it? Weather is a great excuse for delays too. The force of nature reduces the need to punish a person for whatever went wrong. Or eliminates any need to further explain a last minute change of plans.
Still, a big disappointment for the guys in the formation. And for their commander, who I must now inform that his big day in the sun has been cancelled by clouds somewhere else. This is the front line though, the tip of the spear, so his disapointment will only be in relation to the lost time that could have been spent on other activities.
One makes concessions though, for the Secretary of Defense. Surely he'll have other opportunities to visit the DMZ, but I'm sure the Honorable Mr. Cheney is equally disappointed, probably more so. But I imagine he's a pragmatic man, one who knows all to well the occasional and inevitable setbacks and obstacles that weather and intel will throw in the way of operations.
There's plenty of other things to do in Korea, you know.
And seemingly always will be. Some things never change.
As for me, I wouldn't trade my time on the DMZ for anything.
But now it's time I get breakfast then it's back on the road for a nice long Humvee ride to Seoul.
EPILOGUE: AN AIRPORT IN AMERICA IN THE 21st CENTURY
The airline employee looks me in the eye and hands me back my ticket and tells me my connection is delayed due to "weather in Dallas." An amazingly brazen effort in these days of internet and 24-hour cable weather. Everyone gets a weather brief now. The weather in Dallas is fine, was fine, and will be fine for the foreseeable future.
"ohhh..." I say. "Okay." What point in saying more? Choose your battles carefully. Those are indeed wise words to live by.
"We're sorry for the inconvenience sir."
"No problem, no hurry." I say, and proceed to my gate. I've brought along a book to read anyhow. Lately it seems I never have time for reading.
Clancy's latest perhaps. Light reading, to be sure, certainly nothing as dramatic as this:
"Far better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered by failure, than to take rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy much nor suffer much, because they live in the gray twilight that knows not victory nor defeat."
Teddy Roosevelt again. Speech before the Hamilton Club, Chicago, April 10, 1899.
Some things never change...
Waaay overdue: Those who read about Bejus's adventures in jump school and haven't visited in a while will likely be shocked to hear what happened to him. He's doing better now. Note this post is from 6 Jan. So read the stuff he's done since then too.
On the subject of banged up heroes, don't miss this one from Smash.
And did you front-page visitors to Mudville know that the MilBlogs page is frequently updated with links to great MilBlogs posts? It's a section called the Post Exchange that I think you'll enjoy browsing through.
Part I is all posted now. All remaining portions of Democracy Whiskey Sexy will be posted in larger sections.
Early last summer when I had originally finished this much of the story I thought I was near the end.
Heh.
Where to begin, this telling of the tale?
I can not tell you everything, so much is still... best saved for later. There are things we can speak of though, you and I. The mundane, for the most part, the daily ordinary.
The occasional extraordinary may have to wait.
Where to begin? The Bible? The bullet? They are certainly early elements. Too early perhaps, or too late. Or both. I'll tell of conflict here, and speak of violence. In our world those things are old, as can be read in that Bible, as old as the sands that swirled about the desert where Abraham turned his back on the land of his birth and started the whole series of events...
And they spent some time in Egypt then, didn't they? Those patriarchs of three religions. I think I'll start in Egypt then, where the sun heats the sands of time, and a hot wind lifts that sand and dusts the steps of the pyramids, etches them, wears them down over years through the ages.
I've been there, in the flesh. I've felt that sand in my flesh, I've felt that sun in my flesh and seen incredible things with my own sun burned eyes. Can I tell you? Will you join me? After all, we've already started, haven't we?
Listen:
IN THE COLDIt's been 15 years since I've been to Cairo so things may have changed. One thing I noticed while there, however, was that very little had changed over the past several thousand years. Sure, taxis, buses, Mercedes, and Toyotas mingle with donkey carts in the shadow of the Citadel of Salah ad-Din, and certainly a different God is worshipped from the group that inspired the pyramids. (Different Gods to note the presence of Christians and other religions that are "tolerated" there. And for the cynical, the universal gods of money, power, etc. worshipped worldwide have their well-kept temples there too.)
With regard to crowded streets, "teeming" is the right word. 6.8 million. When the surrounding metropolitan area is included, Cairo has a population of 14.5 million, staking a claim to 9th largest city in the world. Exact numbers are meaningless, of questionable validity but obvious issues. Tear through town as a passenger in a minibus, go from 60 to 0 in one second as someone steps off the curb in front of you without a glance in either direction, narrowly avoiding a population reduction of one. "If Allah wills it they will live to cross the street," the driver explains, "what purpose in looking first?" Learn quickly why non-locals' driving is discouraged. Learn quickly that this place runs on the will of Allah.
Mountains of refuse? Will be gone when Allah wills. Collapsed building? Removed when Allah wills. Shelter then, in the meantime, for someone for whom Allah wills it. A degree of planning and administration appears to be lacking, and rather then demand accountability from city officials, understand that this is what Allah wills. The logic is not arguable. If Allah did not will it, it would not be.
BAGHDAD 2003 AD
Tanks roll. Throngs along the street raise fists in rage and celebration. What will America bring? According to the New York Times ( a paper with recent credibility issues) one answer from a local is "Democracy, Whiskey, Sexy!" The phrase catches on with many. It becomes a slogan on t-shirts, bumper stickers and Blogs across America. Songs are written, recorded, and made available via internet download overnight. Hooray! With only a few deaths we've brought Democracywhiskeysexy to Iraq.
The celebration continues into the streets of downtown Baghdad as toppling statues of Saddam provide photo ops for journalists shocked that "the Big Story" is ending so soon. Absolute, total, and stunning victory leaves them starving for some angle they can use to paint a picture of desperation for their readers "back home." The quagmire of their dreams has failed to materialize, and no one wins Pulitzers for happy news. No one covers this story accurately or well. The pre-written news of dismal failures must now remain in the drawer of their minds forever. Pale attempts otherwise (coverage of riots and museum looting) will later be proved overblown and under researched. Public interest wanes.
Now return to the scene of the falling statue. Ignore the flag on the face thing, no one really cares. It's a distraction. Note instead the "crowd" of hundreds in a city of millions. I've never seen a public square so empty in daylight hours. It's likely that the vast majority were afraid as yet to face the Americans. It's certainly possible that many were not convinced that the next day would mark their departure and the return of Saddam. These people had experiences in their own lifetimes with America withdrawing hope at the last tantalizing minute. Pardon them then their lack of faith in the conquerors' good intentions. Still a thought haunts me: That given recent history, if in some way the U.S. could be invaded and conquered in like manner, the crowd of Democrats toppling statues and looting the Smithsonian would far exceed the numbers of Iraqis dancing in the streets of Baghdad that glorious day...
NEAR CAIRO, the late '80s
The desert is hot in August, but the dry atmosphere actually leads to extremes. Your body adjusts remarkably to the heat of the day, then when temperatures plunge into the 70's at night you shiver with cold. The dry air also provides a spectacular night time view of the Perseid Meteors, arcing through the sky in an uninterrupted display of indescribable and awesome beauty. The vastness of the cosmos is above you, and you are small.
Small, but connected through those stars to people who looked at them thousands of years ago, people who were writing the Bible, the Torah, the Koran. People building pyramids. People living in large groups in cities for the first time, all long after the light from most of those stars above began to travel to here, to be seen twinkling for eternity.
Are we all then the sons and daughters of those ancient star gazers? Surely we are. And that makes the guards at the gate of this remote little airfield our distant cousins. Surely then they would not have pulled the trigger when we approached the gate and the guard stepped into the path of our vehicle, locked and loaded on the driver as he stopped for an ID check? Of course not. A show of force and military professionalism, I'm sure. No doubt they want to inspire our confidence in their abilities. Demonstrate how capable they are, they are serious! They mean business! They have our attention, but we are not impressed. If they hoped to distract us from the mismatched, ill fitting uniforms, the bare feet, or the slack attitude and lack of discipline they failed to accomplish that. It is glaring and obvious to the small group in the van with our Egyptian driver. We are first in to this installation, eight of us to be the first to spend the night at this base camp for Joint Spec Ops.
Our cousins let us wait while they run our ID's into a nearby shack. After a few minutes a small contingent marches out, escorts and a high ranking individual who must personally approve our presence. There is much discussion. Perhaps as a vanguard we are a little early and were not expected? Perhaps this is a show? Who knows. Eventually the mufti is satisfied, we are cleared and proceed across the desert to our temporary home. Eight American GIs alone in tent city in a remote corner of an airfield holding several thousand Egyptian regulars, as much our ally as they are the Russians', at the tag end of the Cold War...
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.
Egypt, however, is with us in the Gulf. For a mere 7 Billion in debt relief, our cousins will join us in the desert again...
TENT CITY, KOREA, 1990
The rain is unrelenting. Two weeks "in the field" and not a day without constant rain. We are years away from being able to laugh about it with Forrest Gump. The ground has turned soft. "Deuce and a halfs " (big Army trucks, usually canvas covered, toy versions were very popular with the green army men crowd) running in and out bringing food have rutted the "dirt roads" and turned them into something like "chocolate pudding roads." You can't avoid walking in them. It's mud to the ankles and water above that. You wear green rubber overboots and watch the water level carefully.
It's summer, so it's 90 degrees outside. If the rain would stop the humidity surely would drop to 95 percent. The issued rain gear is great at keeping the rain out, but the effect is like wrapping yourself in plastic while fully dressed in long sleeves and pants: you sweat. And since you are working for a living, You drench yourself with sweat. At the end of day one you hang your wet uniform to dry in the tent. It is humid, so it will take a couple days. On day two you don your second of three uniforms and repeat the process. At the end of that day you try to convince yourself the hanging uniform is dryer then the one you're wearing, that progress is being made, that it might quit raining. And you plan day three: If it's still raining, I'll wear the day two uniform again in hopes that the day one uniform will dry to the point it's wearable again. The last dry uniform is hands-off! Might have greater need later. But the temptation! Hopefully someone will go back to base and run some laundry soon.
We have a radio teletype machine in the field. By adjusting the frequency we can pick up English language propaganda broadcasts from North Korea. These are being generated purely for our benefit, so we oblige. I no longer have transcripts, but they were in the form of "news releases." A story on the construction of new apartment buildings would include this: "The glorious peoples of North Korea salute their leader Kim Il Sung! The brand of communism practiced by the North Koreans will never fail as it has in the weak European nations! The puppet South Korean lackey government of the Capitalist war mongering United States is every day coming closer to collapse and failure..." and more to that effect. The language is unbelievable flowery. And some in our tent wonder aloud if the people North of the border are actually brainwashed to the point where this stuff sounds reasonable. It's "The Big Lie" - no half measures here. Say it, make it too outrageous to be a lie, and repeat it again and again.
Meanwhile, the American press, blissfully unaware that we have been at continuous war (albeit cease-fire) for over forty years, has discovered Desert Shield. Korea will be the only theater of operations from which troops will not be pulled for the gulf. However, the function of troops in country has always been to slow the advance to the point we could deploy in force from the USA.
One million men with guns, thirty miles north. The rain still falls on day three.
NEAR CAIRO, the late '80s
The Nile Delta is close enough that fog forming there rolls in to our location. We are now officially "socked in", a pre-dawn grey world where visibility is near zero.
Sound travels though. Right now the sound of a large aircraft running up its engines while sitting on the end of the runway nearby drowns out everything else. This mission is weather delayed. Take off should have occurred a few minutes before, but visibility of at least one half mile is required before this plane can launch. The fog is lifting, but too slowly, and we are just approaching one-quarter mile now.
The plane is a C130 Gunship, a classic old bird modified for special ops. This is an exercise, a training mission, but still important, and dependent on several things all happening simultaneously. Delay is unacceptable.
A weather observer is standing near the runway. Everything now waits on his call. He holds a radio and is in constant contact with the aircrew and the ground control. Calls to him are repeated and of increasing urgency.
"Weather one, ground, vis check?"
"Ground, weather one, still holding one quarter..."
Repeated again and again until
"Weather one, ground, now?"
"Lifting a little, but still officially..."
Then a change in the pitch of the engine sound, and the plane is accelerating down the runway. Never seen but heard, roaring off into the Egyptian sky.
No more time to wait for Allah to will the fog away...
CAIRO, a few days later
In a high pitched ululation the Muezzin calls the faithful to prayer, his call echoes through the streets, through the bazaar. The bazaar is like nothing in the West. Small shops sell gold, fine carved wooden objects, chess sets, perfumes, papyrus, all at "reasonable prices". Signs in English are the give-away that this is a tourist area. Prices are probably at least twice what could be found elsewhere with small risk and little effort.
Young children are everywhere, hawking water in bottles, cola, fruit. Beggars for the most part. Now here's your insight into the minds of our hosts for today. Here and there you see men with camels outfitted for riding. They entice you to climb aboard, tell you that you can get on the camel for free. You can't beat free, can you Amer? Here we are all "Amer", pronounced "Ah-mair". We have been told the Egyptian can not lie, it is part of his religion. So get on the camel for free, Ah-mair? No, I'd been warned about this one. Though others eagerly accepted the offer. The camel would actually kneel at the command of his handlers, dropping just low enough to the ground for the rider to mount. At a second command the adventurer soon found himself high up on camelback, an experience not available in too many other locations. Stuck up on the camel's back, in fact, unless they are willing to pay the ten dollar fee requested to get the camel to lower himself to a position where he can safely dismount. There was no lie told, getting on the camel was free.
Back on the bus, a crowd of thirty odd Amer, close cropped hair a dead give away that these are military men, though dressed in civilian clothes. A short ride to the pyramids, where we are to be treated to the sound and light show. The sun is setting, the temperature falling. The view is spectacular, the three pyramids of Giza and the Sphinx in panorama before us. We are in the back of a large tourist group. The obvious thing setting us apart from them is we have armed guards; machine gun totting Egyptian plainclothes police or secret service or whatever. They hold semiautomatic weapons and appear both capable and vigilant. These men know what they are doing, in contrast to the "uniformed soldiers" from the airbase. Knowing that Saddat was protected by such men, I position myself strategically and watch them as much as I do the show.
The main crowd is French. Perhaps the descendents of the very soldiers who shot the nose off the Sphinx. They try to be unaware of the strange Amer and their gun-toting guards. It's now dark and the show begins. The great edifices are lit by massive beams of colored light, an incredible show to rival any rock concert. The recorded narration begins, a booming voice backed with dramatic music; all in French. Can't get too involved, have to watch the watchers. The show ends, we file out. Paranoia was not required. All is well. As we depart the French men do a great job of ignoring us. The women do not. But we are all soon on the bus and on our way back to camp. To sandy sleeping bags on canvas cots. To more of the Perseids.
The singsong chant of the Muezzin emanates from the bus radio on the trip back. Or is this Egyptian top forty? It is all we hear in Cairo's street. The plaintive wail. Hardly recognizable as language. In contrast to the driving guitar-based hard Rock I grew up with, this is weak. There are songs I play in my head when I want to get the blood flowing. One of them is Hair of the Dog by the group Nazareth. I can not suppress this strange thought: Say what you will of the music, but in a clash between people from a culture that produced that song and people from a culture that wails through the nose on the radio for entertainment while waiting for the will of Allah to accomplish anything, bet on the rockers.
II
ITAEWON, SEOUL, KOREA 1991
Sweet child in time, you'll see the line
The line drawn between the good and bad
See the blind man, he's shooting at the world
Bullets flying; taking their toll
If you been bad - Oh Lord I bet you have
And you've not been hit, oh by flying lead
You'd better close your eyes; you better bow your head,
And wait for the ricochet
Deep Purple, Sweet Child in Time Words & music by Ritchie Blackmore, Ian Gillan, Roger Glover, Jon Lord and Ian Paice
Seoul, Korea has a population of over ten million, and a population density of over 46,000 people per square mile. It has everything. The Itaewon district is a shopping district by day and an "entertainment" district by night. As long as your entertainment includes drinking. Heavily. This part of town is international, neon lit, and loud. Wherever you go you are likely to end up shoulder to shoulder with people from all over the world. Talking. Laughter. Fighting. Music. Each little bar a specialty shop. This one is all jazz, that one rocks, that one's country. All have bar girls to serve you, and if you're a nice guy you'll buy them a drink too, yes?
Me love you too muchy, GI. They'd been perfecting the art of separating American servicemen from their cash for forty years at the time I was there. They were very good at it.
Itaewon is where the American export of Democracy Whiskey Sexy was first adopted and then perfected by a totally foreign culture. Itaewon was what that guy in Iraq might have had in mind while he watched the tanks roll by.
And Itaewon separates the Yongsan army installation from Hannam Village, the walled compound housing those few troops fortunate enough (and willing to serve two years instead of one) to have their families with them. Life in Hannam Village is typical American with a few adaptations to the local culture. In the daycare center for instance, in addition to fire drills, the children are taught how to respond to a shift in the wind that might waft the tear gas into the facility. Always bring a hankie to hold over your nose and mouth, get low to the ground, crawl to safety! It's not every four year old that knows this useful skill. Still, if it weren't for the tear gas the demonstrators just on the other side of the wall would likely get completely out of hand.
So if you live in Hannam you work at Yongsan and must travel through Itaewon to get there. And if your car doesn't start and it's 4 AM you will walk. Down a few dark alleys at first until you reach the edge of the neon glow; the party goes all night and at four there is no sign of slow down. The Ville (rhymes with bill) is the GI appellation for the "entertainment district" that springs up near the gate of every military facility in Asia. However big or small the town, the Ville is the Ville. The real name is of less import; Songtan, Tongduchon, Itaewon; the Ville is universal. There are some differences; a curfew is enforced at Songtan and it closes at 2 AM. Itaewon does not close. Itaewon is the ultimate Ville.
Even so there are few people on the dark fringes of the Ville this pre-dawn as the man in BDUs moves swiftly through. Once into the more crowded area a cab can be found.
A group of four or five college-age Korean men step out of a bar and notice the GI approaching. Their conversation stops but their stares follow his approach.
Down the street a little from where they stand hundreds of Korean girls cast neon shadows in the streets as they seek that which the French girls in Cairo could only dream of...bedtime with an American GI. Like women everywhere else in the world, some seek a night of entertainment, some a lifetime of security, others are interested only professionally.
It takes little "political motivation" for these countrymen of those ladies to want Americans gone from their streets.
"Yankee go home!" To this day I can hear the voice that said it, clipped, accented, emphasis on the "go" making it sound wrong. A cliche, come to life in my life.
"Go home!" Their hands are clenched. They are drunk, not falling down, but unsteady. Sober they would have been silent; they've had just enough to drink to make them brave and slightly wobbly. Still, there are five of them and some Tae-kwon-do ability is to be assumed here. I know what I will do if I have to. (Remember, Hair of the Dog? It's pounding in my head.)
"I am home." I say nodding as I walk past smiling at each in turn. They are silent until I am a little further down the alley.
"Go home!" One shouts again, but he lacks all conviction. No ricochet today. I approach the neon brightness, white noise, and fish market smells of the center of the Ville, find a cab and shorten my trip.
Get to work, prepare for the day, take a break, step outside and watch the sunrise.
More done before 9 o'clock then most people do all day? You bet.
Half a world away Desert Shield is near complete; we are in place and Desert Storm is looming, rumors are that a deadline will be issued.
What of our position in Korea? Do we have a back up? There are rumors that the North has massed a million men at the border. That the DMZ is set to erupt. All hell will break loose. Those are the rumors.
It's best not to believe rumors. They fly especially quickly through military ranks - often believable, more often not, usually with zero basis in truth.
On the way to Cairo, for instance, we were told by an aircrew member that the temperature soars above 120 every day. I know this is a lie, I've done my homework and the every day afternoon temperature is 108. Still, once the night falls and the temperature drops to the 70's you sit and shiver in the cold. But the 120-130 degrees is a lie and a rumor.
Prior to going to Cairo we were supposed to go to Somalia. From there we would operate a couple days then pack quickly and jump into Egypt to set up rapidly and resume ops. Somalia is cancelled at the last minute. There's a rumor that there's been some kind of coup or civil war there. I don't much care; at that time in the summer of '87 I had to look Somalia up on a map.
Rumors.
The sun is rising over Seoul in early 1991. Rumor has it that as a result of the alleged million-man-mass at the DMZ we have put the North on notice that our response to any hostile advance they may care to make will be swift and devastating. Grave consequences are the rumor of the day.
But still the sun is rising. It won't get anywhere near 100 degrees. On some days though when you step outside your throat tickles slightly and your eyes water, often so little that you barely realize it. Because when the wind is just right you get a hint of pepper gas even here, far from the walls that surround this installation.
I will finish work early, go home and fix the car. Tomorrow is my day off, so perhaps tonight I'll join the celebrations in the Ville.
The sun will rise tomorrow, too.
There's always something to celebrate.
NEAR CAIRO, the late '80s
Nightfall, the temperature plummets into the mid 70's and we sit and shiver again under the shooting stars. We've turned the area between two tents into a makeshift meeting place; after much labor filling sandbags and stacking them into benches we've created a passable place to pass the time. It's early in the exercise and the command element has not yet joined us. When they do they will take one look at this area, declare that one of the tents is the headquarters and politely ask the inhabitants to move elsewhere. The party will continue and our leaders won't have to travel far to join it.
So strike democracy from the list for now. Democracy is no way to run a military.
Thanks to Stella though, we had whiskeysexy.
Stella!
Not Brando's gal; Stella is the beer brewed in Egypt for the consumption by the infidel. This, I suppose, is one way of distinguishing the progressive Muslim society from the repressive regimes elsewhere. Stella Lager, for the discriminating infidel. There are no women mud wrestlers pitching this stuff on Egyptian TV, but based on the crowded streets of Cairo it would appear that the Egyptians are familiar with sex too.
There are several hundred men and six women at our base camp. Each gets a ration of two bottles of Stella a day. There's nothing to do but sit and drink and talk and watch the Perseids streak across the sky. The galaxies are on display on these crystal clear desert nights. Somewhere in all that, the locals would tell you, Allah looks down upon us all.
I wonder when Allah will do something about the burned out shell of a plane that sits a couple hundred yards away from our makeshift bar? A Russian Bear, I'm told, though there's not enough left for me to make positive identification. Could be a Badger for all I knew. Rumor says it was destroyed in the six-day war, or one of those wars where every one of Israel's neighbors attacked at once, but still ended up with a war named for the number of days required for their complete annihilation.
Tired of being humiliated? Stop being stupid. Apparently that won't happen soon. The tactic has changed over the past thirty years with the suicide bomber being the preferred method of the new millennia, but in the late 80's terrorist strikes on Aircraft or Cruise ships are the expected assault. But Marine barracks have been hit too. And in the late cold war world where alliance and influence shift like desert sand it is at least strange and disconcerting to set up camp and drink Stella Lager near a relic of a known enemy's power on what may some day be another's unfriendly territory. The Russians could be using the same site the week after for all we knew. Only in hindsight does the desert-preserved shell of the Russian war machine serve as metaphor and tombstone for their empire.
But for the most part the aircraft is ignored, or seen as a good sign. Enemy aircraft look good as burned out hulks on the ground. We can't see it in the darkness but we know it's there.
Then someone brings out the NVG's.
Night Vision Goggles are relatively new technology, and this is the first time I've seen them. Ambient starlight magnified to near the point of daylight. Surely everyone is familiar with the green world of NVG's now, but in those days they were a novelty. There was the Russian Bomber, there the buildings of the Egyptian military. There the sand dune that the Rangers practiced overrunning all day every day. And there in the distance are the guy and the girl who thought they had cover of darkness. We can't tell who they are but we can tell what they are doing. Their discovery was unintentional but will be legend through the camp within 24 hours.
Democracy no. Whiskey limited. Sexy? Apparently as unstoppable as the meteors that streak across the cold desert sky.
BARKSDALE AIR FORCE BASE, Sep 11, 2001.
The President of the US addresses a shocked world. On the runway, wingtip to wingtip, the B52 fleet sits, fueled and loaded. Think about it. The first thing he saw when he got there and the last when he left, firepower the likes of which few can imagine, and his finger on the "trigger". The images of the fallen towers, a smoking hole in the Pentagon, and a crater in Pennsylvania fresh in everyone's mind. Shock and quiet rage prevail nationwide. Restraint? You better believe it, and thank God (and I mean it, thank God) the right man was in charge. Rush to war? Not then, not now, not ever. Let's roll.
The United States has suffered over 300 casualties as a direct result of armed conflict with the North Korean Peoples Army since President Eisenhower declared an end to major hostilities in Korea. This background information may be useful to the reader.
PANMUNJOM, KOREA, 1990
Picture the Korean DMZ in your minds eye. Do you see a bombed out wasteland crisscrossed with barbed wire? Empty trenches? Hear echoes of small arms fire? See flickering lightning from ever present clouds - flashes of artillery fire and the smoke of bursting shells?
That may have been the case mid way through the 20th century, but 40 years later it's far from reality. The land where the 38th parallel bisects the Korean peninsula is some of the most beautiful countryside you could ever hope to see. A couple generations of near total absence of humanity can do that. When compared to Seoul, a city under a perpetual grey cloud of charcoal smoke and exhaust fumes, this is rare beauty indeed.
A sometimes deadly beauty. If you read the links above you know that this is the most dangerous wilderness area in the world. Buried landmines are not the only things waiting to explode along freedom's frontier. Toe this line and it's strangely hard to imagine the far off zing of the ricochet coming ever closer, but the blind man is near. Best not to travel down that pathway of the mind. Stay alert and focus on the task at hand; enjoy the countryside if time permits.
Time, of course, will not permit any such thing. Not for me, not this trip. I'm up from Seoul for 24 hours. Special assignment. My mission? Whenever a high Government VIP visits Korea, the photo op at the DMZ is a "must do." A Very Senior Official will be up smiling for the cameras tomorrow. I'm an "advance party of one." I'm not doing PR work, I'm not a cameraman, I have other concerns.
Strangely, perhaps, I feel less immediate threat from the North Korean guards in Panmunjom then from the drunks in Itaewon. True, the threat is more likely lethal, but less likely to occur. Even more likely they know who's coming tomorrow and wonder who the hell I am. I am nobody, and I'm doing mundane tasks. Don't point, and hey, smile when we take your picture, would ya?
The lucky young Americans on the DMZ have some cool toys to play with, and they love to show them off. Everything that moves along this line can be tracked one way or another. Lost patrols can be talked back into camp, their locations known fairly precisely to those who are tracking them remotely. How comforting to know that we will "see" the approaching million man horde.
I'm not that sort of an invasion force, and the guys on the line make a fairly good welcome for the rare stranger up on business. None of the dog and pony show for me; the big shot will get that tomorrow. I get to see the grit. A solo tour of the Ville with the white stripe painted down the middle. Really, it's there. Cross it and die. See the room with the table with the stripe right down the center. It's a plain wooden building and empty most of the time.
And when the day is done I get the invite to the Happy Mountain Club.
If you're familiar with the Hitchikers Guide to the Galaxy then you know the Restaurant at the end of the Universe. The Happy Mountain Club is the Bar at the end of the Free World. Beyond this point there is no DemocracyWhiskeySexy, okay? There may be some pale attempt, some unreasonable facsimile, but not like we know it. The world across that bridge is bleak and grey and cold and a lie and I have seen Hell on Earth it and know it for what it is.
And I have laughed and drunk at the Happy Mountain Club in the shadow of Mordor, with those who know they will be the first to shed enemy blood should the day come when the chains come off and the dogs of war run snarling once again.
And when you hit your pillow tonight, think that somewhere in the silent beauty of the DMZ an alert sentry is ready to lock and load and rock and roll.
He was there while Nam was in flames.
He was there for all the days there were hostages in Iran.
He was there when the Berlin Wall came down and communism was declared a thing of the past.
And when the American press rediscovered the American soldier as he pitched his tent for Desert Shield.
Through too cold winter and too hot summer.
And today.
And in one of the small rooms of the barracks was the Happy Mountain Club, perhaps the most exclusive club in the world. Members only. Would you like to knock back a few there? I consider it one of the great privileges of my life.
Panmunjom is simultaneously ridiculous and serious, perhaps the most ridiculous and most serious place on earth. And beautiful and deadly. And there is something close to DemocracyWhiskeySexy on the south side of the line.
And tonight Van Halen on the stereo.
I've been to the edge, I stood and looked down.
you know I lost a lot of friends there baby
I got no time to mess around
So if you want it, I gotta cut you free baby
I gotta cut you free baby
Ain't talking bout love...
The Happy Mountain, by the way, is slang for a Korean Burial Mound.
Just about finished with part I now.
I noted before I can't move on from this point in Democracy Whiskey Sexy? without relating this little story: There I am one day this past May wandering about the blogosphere when I happen upon this post some guy wrote about the cold war. And it was in turn inspired by another post someone else wrote. "Wow" I say to myself "and here I am writing a post about what I did during the cold war."
So I sent the guy an e-mail, introduced myself, said I thought he had a great entry there and sent him a link to Democracy Whiskey Sexy?.
A little while passes and there are suddenly hundreds of folks visiting Mudville from that guys blog. I had never seen such a thing before.
And I told him one day I'd send him a few readers too. Here's a link to that post he wrote those many months ago. Be sure to read the post he linked to also as they are both good.
We're all mostly reading blogs now, right?
I've got lots more reasons why you should.
And now updated to the end of the first chapter!
This portion of the story is an overview, introducing some of the various locations from where I would tell the tale. After all, since the goal was to combine stories from the past with real world events I'd need a fairly large pool to fish from, yes? Not knowing the future I mean...
Additionally, it introduces other elements of the tale. Rock and Roll, primarily. America's own music would be intertwined throughout the telling of the tale. I still find myself surprised from time to time at the number of today's "conservatives" (a misnomer by the way; as most are actually liberal thinkers) that made the journey from a different past... and brought their music with them.
Always bet on the rockers. And Rock On.
We're just warming up.
An update has been added. More will be coming soon.
In mid-May 2003, when this story was newly written, the "major hostilities" in the Iraq war had just been declared ended by the President, after a long campaign in the press to get him to declare just such an event. (See various transcripts here, notably 15 April. And here. And here.
Immediately thereafter he was attacked without let up for daring to use a military platform to declare the first phase of Operation Iraqi Freedom an unqualified success.
This background may be useful to those who may detect a tone of outrage in to this part of the story - there is no outrage. As response to "we could have brought that statue down for a lot less" and numerous other patently snide comments from the sideline crowd, I did not mean the "loot the Smithsonian" comment as anything other than statement of fact.
Feel free to comment. I hope you'll enjoy this. It's the best I can do.
Last year I began work on a long post combining current events and personal journal-type web log entries.
My title for the series, Democracy, Whiskey, Sexy? came from the catch phrase that sprang up around the blogosphere, an echo of a quote from an Iraqi citizen on the road to Baghdad.
I added a question mark to the phrase.
My original idea was to post the complete story in several small parts, link them together and eventually have a completed document. Back in May when I began the project I expected this would take at least two weeks.
I'm finished now. But since the many parts were scattered far and wide through the archives of this blog I've decided to repost them now, following the original concept of building the whole thing one little blog-sized entry at a time.
Feel free to comment. I hope you'll enjoy this. It's the best I can do.
On a bookshelf in my family room sits a copy of Stephen King's Wolves of the Calla. Unread.
I bought it on the day it was released, fully intending to read it. And I still think I will sometime.
The Mrs., meanwhile, has read several of the past year's top fiction books. So I've got lots of "good stuff" sitting around the house for me to read. When I get around to it.
I have finished a couple non-fiction books this past year. And I have a couple more that I hope to read while they're still current.
And don't get me started on the number of books in the store and the library that I know I would like to read.
This past year I've probably read fewer books than any other post-kindergarten year in my life. Why?
This from Jeff Jarvis via Normblog
What are you reading at the moment? > Well, it's sad, I suppose (though I'm not sure why) but I truly read little more than weblogs these days. Reading books changed for me on September 11, 2001, ... Fiction has changed for me since. Nonfiction looks stale next to weblogs. News looks sterile next to weblogs. So I read weblogs.
And in a comment here on inept reporting by CNN, Michele notes: "...that is why I read blogs more than I read news sites."
So there you have it. Most bloggers agree: blogs are where it's at.
And this may be the "year of the blog" - what with a presidential campaign and an on-going war on terror generating much to discuss every day. Whether or not that is so, whether or not blogs reach an audience of tens of millions or hundreds of thousands, growth is certain. Of that we can be sure.
And whether or not it's the Year of the Blog in America, it's the Week of the Blog in Mudville.
I hope you'll come along.
We've got some reading to do.
Neptunus Lex is the home port for some of the finest writing I've read on a MilBlog to date. Any blog, for that matter, military or not. The Captain of that ship and I have swapped a couple e-mails and he tells me that this and this are among his personal favorites.
I may link some more later this week but since you are going to want to keep reading everything he's got right now it probably won't matter.
Unless you leave comments there requesting he write more. That would be nice.
Yeah, you.
Enjoy, thank me later.
WASHINGTON — U.S. officials have found evidence corroborating the Bush administration's allegations that Russian companies sold Saddam Hussein high-tech military equipment that threatened U.S. forces during the invasion of Iraq last March, a senior State Department official said Friday.The United States has found proof that Russian firms exported night-vision goggles and radar-jamming equipment to Iraq, the official said. The evidence includes the equipment itself and proof that it was used during the war, said the official.
This from a report in the LA Times. And of course, like everything in, of, and around Iraq there will be 10 versions of the truth within 24 hours, and everyone will have the opportunity to believe whatever fits their preconceived conclusions. (If the story isn't forgotten.)
And the number of deaths that might be at least partially blamed on the Russians will never truly be known with any certainty:
During the war, U.S. military sources gave differing accounts of how much the Russian-made equipment affected American-led coalition forces. Some military officials were quoted as blaming jamming gear for sending missiles off course and into Iran and Saudi Arabia, and claiming that Russian-made Kornet antitank missiles destroyed at least two American M1A1 tanks during the war, the first time such tanks had been destroyed in battle.But other officials said the equipment had little effect during the rapid sweep to Baghdad.
Some Russian arms industry executives and military analysts said the charges about the jamming equipment were made only to explain the inaccuracy of U.S. smart bombs. Some argued, too, that the allegations were pointless, since the hardware could have been legitimately sold to other countries and then exported to Iraq without Russian authorities' knowledge.
A U.S. intelligence official said he could provide no further details on the alleged shipments and acknowledged that it was generally very difficult to determine whether a government is aware of, let alone involved in, shipments by companies operating within its borders. "It's always unclear as to what extent governments know about what companies are doing on their turf," the official said.
Quite diplomatic, that official.
Note the "some Russian" claim that "the charges about the jamming equipment were made only to explain the inaccuracy of U.S. smart bombs". Not likely. No claims were ever made for 100% accuracy of smart bombs in the first place.
But it behooves the American military to know what impact (if any) said systems have. And if known it behooves the American military to keep that information to itself, and act to render such systems obsolete.
This story may now move into the world of obscure conspiracy theory.
Ooglay, however, had personal insight.
For Democrats that is. But for Republicans there are some great economic indicators here. (Chuckle) And some sloganeering from the left in the comments.
Does the Blogs for Bush crowd fabricate opposing arguments from the left in the comments section? If that's the best the opposition can do I predict Bush with 70+ percent and very long coat tails.
Unless people become so confident in the landslide that they don't bother voting.
Heeeey... wait a minute! That's the strategy!
The writers and editors at the Guardian seem to inhabit a slightly different version of the world than most of the rest of us:
The White House has retreated from its doctrine of regime change and pre-emptive military action and is returning to traditional diplomacy in an effort to repackage George Bush as a president for peace.Signs of the new strategy that have emerged in the past few weeks include:
· North Korea, where authorities yesterday agreed to allow US inspectors to
visit its nuclear complex next week.
· Iran, where the US proposed, through UN channels, sending a high-level
humanitarian mission after last week's earthquake - although Tehran last
night asked for any visit to be delayed.
· Libya, where the US welcomed Muammar Gadafy's surprise decision to give up
weapons of mass destruction.
· Iraq, where the Bush administration is pressing for greater involvement
from the international community.
· Palestine, where US peace envoy John Wolf may be sent to try to restart
talks.The signs of a thaw in US relations with these and other countries point to
a different approach emerging in Washington. It emphasises cooperation,
dialogue and diplomacy in place of the policies that have characterised the
Bush administration's thinking to date. While Mr Bush publicly asserts
Washington's right to defend its interests by any means, in practice he is
increasingly pursuing a collaborative approach.
So there you have it: The president has finally seen the light and given up his warlike ways. And look at that list of dividends! Perhaps we can dub it the "peace bonus."
Seriously though, is it easier or more difficult for our allies in England to support us in the face of this sort of journalistic denial of reality?
Iraq is crucial to the administration's policy shift - either because, as conservatives argue, leaders of other rogue regimes learnt a lesson from Saddam's fate, or, as others say, because the conflict has so extended the military, Washington cannot contemplate the opening of a new front."It's just the force of reality, the consequences of Iraq which has made them change," said Anatol Lieven, a fellow at the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace. "Even by their standards it is not rational to think that America can run another war."
*Sigh*
Yes we can.
Please don't make us.
And haven't I heard of the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace somewhere else lately?
Okay, I'm sure Misha's not lying about this. (Chuckle)
Cause if he was, his ... (ahem)... nose would grow an inch longer!
Or is it Columbo? A compilation of things that don't make sense about the "Healing Iraq" murder at Blackfive's.
Above all things, Chief Warrant Officer Aaron Weaver was a survivor. As a 22-year-old sergeant, Weaver was part of the 1993 Battle of Mogadishu in Somalia — where 18 U.S. Army soldiers lost their lives.<...>
Later, Weaver earned his wings as an army aviator in Iraq, piloting a Kiowa Warrior helicopter — battling Iraqi guerrillas while also fighting testicular cancer.
<...>
Weaver’s parents say Weaver so wanted to serve in Iraq, he convinced doctors to sign a waiver allowing him to go despite his cancer.
<...>
He was riding in the back of a medical evacuation helicopter Wednesday, on his way to a routine medical checkup, when the chopper crashed.
Weaver and eight other soldiers died.
“He died doing what he was proud doing,” his mother said. “He would want me to say that if he was here.”
Aaron Weaver was supposed to finally come home next month. He leaves behind a wife and 1-year-old daughter.
His brother, a Black Hawk pilot also serving in Iraq, is on his way home now, hoping to say goodbye to a proud soldier who survived so much — and sacrificed everything.
And the original story (with video) here. A few seconds after the first time I entered the page this hero's face was obscured by an ad for Microsoft. In large red letters the words "Write Now" appeared in animation, with an arrow pointing to what appeared to be an ad for Windows XP.
This didn't repeat in subsequent page loads.
I'm sure MSNBC didn't mean to offend. (E-mail link here)
The answer to a season of lies might be ground truth.
Warren is going to return to Iraq:
That's right, I said return. This will be my second time around (third if you count the 1st Gulf War.) It's a sign of the critical importance of Civil Affairs and Civil-Military operations to the overall success of the U.S. mission to help the Iraqis rebuild their country.
And this time he's also a blogger. And I think he'll be a good one.
More bloggers = more truth from Iraq.
Welcome Ground Truth to the MilBlogs ring. (And be sure to scroll around and find the cool animated paratrooper gif.)
If this is photoshop it's fairly well done. (Chuckle)
Set your drinks down. I'm leaving you with a belly laugh tonight courtesy of Scott Ott.
The cold months grip half the world, and this shall pass.
The Season of lies is upon us. And perhaps for quite a while.
On Saturday the 3rd of January 2004, my son and his cousin were travelling back to our residence in Samarra, they were driving a small cargo truck belonging to a third party from which they earn their livelihood in a country torn by wars and sanctions. Yes, they were back from Baghdad yet misfortune followed them from the beginning, their car broke down on the road which caused a delay in their arrival to Samarra when the curfew hour was just about to start in the city...And this is where the first chapter of the tragedy takes place. An American army patrol stood in their way, and after they went through the whole procedure of searching my son and his cousin, and inspecting the cargo load, they tied them up both and led them to an area about three kilometres from the scene and...in front of one of the gates of the Tharthar dam where water flows at its strongest rate and to my son and his cousin's horror, they ordered them to jump into the water, it was midnight and the cold was unbearable, when they hesitated, they were pushed by the soldiers. Unfortunately my boy cannot swim, even though swimming at this time of the year wouldn't have helped. Yet my sons cousin survived miraculously after he got stuck in a tree branch to give us his account of this tragic event which could have went untold. He tried saving my son, but the water current was stronger than him...After days of search we found my sons jacket floating with the stream, it shall remain with me as a memory and a symbol of the injustice brought against him by soldiers of the United States of America's army, who came to our country under the banners of human rights and democracy only to send my son to his demise on his wedding days...Zaydun's cousin said that the soldiers were drunk and looked tired, and that during their ride they even chatted and joked with one of the soldiers who spoke a little Arabic. After he managed to get out of the water he remained hidden because he could see that the unit was searching for them using flashlights and he was scared to death.
This story and the previous from Fisk contain amazingly similar elements. A friend who miraculously survives to tell the tale (the ineptitude of the soldiers or the divine will of Allah?) a tragic family left behind, an outrageous lack of action or any official response...
Such similarities are the hallmark of the urban legend.
What have we in this dark mirror?
A suicide martyr? A tragic accident? A murder victim? A young man in hiding?
People desperately in need of protection from their protectors?
Or a new tactic from a diabolical foe desiring to incite post-Saddam rage?
All that can be reliably stated at this time is that in every case stated, someone is lying.
The great mass of people ... will more easily fall victim to a big lie than to a small one.
--Adolf Hitler
The season of lies is upon us. Perhaps it is ever so.
Update:
More here from Blackfive. He also hears a familiar ring...
And here's an updated compilation of things that don't make sense about the "Healing Iraq" murder at Blackfive's.
More here from Andrew Olmstead
Smash calls for justice (as do we all!) but hears something familiar...
John of Argghhh checks in.
Cpt Patti's husband Tim says what he thinks. (Always does, actually.)
Hook listens for the ring of truth and doesn't hear it. I know just what he means.
And here's an opinion from a Homicidal Maniak.
And I think that if nuclear weapons were found buried under a mass grave in Iraq discovered via a full confession from Saddam, that no one anywhere would change their minds about anything.
Part II. Part I here)
Are there two sides to every story? Would that it were so simple. There are an infinite number of sides to every story. Perhaps our mirror is a prism?
Or a rhetoric-spewing machine?
Let's turn the ugly dial up a bit, shall we?
ISTANBUL -- The allegations can be heard almost everywhere in Turkey now, from farmers' wives eating in humble kebab shops, in influential journals, and from erudite political leaders: American troops have raped thousands of Iraqi women and young girls since ousting dictator Saddam Hussein.... a front-page article on Oct. 22, stated: ''In addition to the occupation and despoilation, thousands of Iraqi women are being raped by American soldiers. There are more than 4,000 rape events on the record.''
<...>
One of the most dangerous aspects of these rumors, say Turkish and Western officials, is that people who do not at all fit the stereotypes of suicide bombers -- people like Ilyas Kuncak -- may be motivated to drastic action. The embassy official noted that Kuncak's son and one of his daughters told the Turkish media after their father blew up the HSBC office building in Istanbul's financial district that their father had been upset about the rape reports in the days before he set off the blast.
<...>
The US Embassy in Ankara, the Turkish capital, has strongly denounced the reports, calling them ''outrageous allegations . . . based on a US `source' best known for her pornographic websites and erotic television program.
(more here)
Some of you may not want to move further into our prismatic house of mirrors.
I note here that someone is lying, and that those lies are resulting in death. And that those who lie in these cases do so in full knowledge that their lies result in death.
Eight young Iraqis arrested in Basra were kicked and assaulted by British soldiers, one of them so badly that he died in British custody, according to military and medical records seen by The Independent on Sunday.Amnesty International has urged its members to protest directly to Tony Blair about the death of Baha Mousa, the son of an Iraqi police colonel, and to demand an impartial and independent investigation into the apparent torture of the Basra prisoners. A major at 33 Field Hospital outside the southern Iraqi city said that one of the survivors suffered "acute renal failure" after "he was assaulted ... and sustained severe bruising to his upper abdomen, right side of chest, left forearms and left upper inner thigh".
A friend that survived the ordeal will be a crucial element of the next tale too. But let's take a few steps further down this mirrored hall before we turn that way.
"We were put in a big room with our hands tied and with bags over our heads. But I could see through some holes in my hood. Soldiers would come in - ordinary soldiers, not officers, mostly with their heads shaved but in uniform -- and they would kick us, picking on one after the other. They were kick-boxing us in the chest and between the legs and in the back. We were crying and screaming."They set on Baha especially, and he kept crying that he couldn't breathe in the hood. He kept asking them to take the bag off and said that he was suffocating. But they laughed at him and kicked him more. One of them said: 'Stop screaming and you'll be able to breathe more easily.' Baha was so scared. Then they increased the kicking on him and he collapsed on the floor. None of us could stand or sit because it was too painful."
The reporter of the preceeding story is a known liar who once claimed this absurdity:
SADDAM HUSSEIN INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - So where are the Americans? I prowled the empty departure lounges, mooched through the abandoned customs department, chatted to the seven armed militia guards, met the airport director and stood beside the runways where two dust-covered Iraqi Airways passenger jets -- an old 727 and an even more elderly Antonov -- stood forlornly on the runway not far from an equally decrepit military helicopter.And all I could hear was the distant whisper of high-flying jets and the chatter of the flocks of birds which have nested near the airport car park on this, the first day of real summer in Baghdad.
Only three hours earlier, the BBC had reported claims that forward units of an American mechanised infantry division were less than 16km west of Baghdad -- and that some US troops had taken up positions on the very edge of the international airport.
But I was 27km west of the city. And there were no Americans, no armour, not a soul around the runways of the airport whose namesake, in poster form, sat nonchalantly in the arrivals lounge in a business suit, cigar in hand. Even more astonishingly, there was no sign of the 12,000 Republican Guards whom the US division expected to fight.
Indeed, Saddam Hussein International Airport looked as if it was enduring an industrial strike (let us not conceive of such an event in Saddam's Iraq) rather than an imminent takeover by the world's only superpower.
Was it true, the Iraqi minister of information was asked at his daily 2pm press conference (11pm NZT) - a routine institution of usually deadly tedium - that the Americans were at the airport?
"Rubbish!" he shouted. "Lies! Go and look for yourself."
So we did.
And, alas for the Anglo-American spokesmen in Doha and the US officer quoted on the BBC, the Iraqi minister was right and the Americans were wrong. But it's a good idea to take these things, if not with a pinch of salt, then at least with the knowledge that there are always two reasons for every decision taken in this violent, ruthless land.
So whatever truth may be involved in the tale is certainly tainted by the teller.
Thst's not always the case.
Part III here.
MVG: Hello and welcome to "Mudville Tonight". Our guest this evening is CNN. Hi, CNN, thanks for being here. What's news?
CNN: Iraq had ended its weapons of mass destruction programs by the mid-1990s and did not pose an immediate threat to the United States before the war, according to a report released Thursday.
MVG: Wow, a report. Can't argue with a report. Who wrote it?
CNN: The Carnegie Endowment for International Peace -- a nonpartisan, respected group that opposed the war in Iraq -- conducted the study.
MVG: Well I'm sure it's fair and balanced then. Who's fault was the war then?
CNN: Bush administration officials likely pushed U.S. intelligence assessors to conform with its view the country posed an impending danger.
MVG: Damn that Bush administration! This must have been a result of exhaustive study.
CNN: It follows a nine-month search in Iraq for weapons of mass destruction -- nuclear, biological and chemical -- the key reason the administration cited in its decision to invade Iraq.
MVG: Wow. Tell me more.
CNN: "We looked at the intelligence assessment process, and we've come to the conclusion that it is broken," author Joseph Cirincione said Thursday on CNN's "American Morning."
MVG: So you did all this inspecting and investigating all by yourselves and reached these conclusions?
CNN: The Carnegie report based its conclusions on information gleaned from declassified U.S. intelligence documents about Iraq from U.N. weapons inspectors and the International Atomic Energy Agency, the nuclear watchdog for the United Nations.
MVG: Ohhhhh.. gleaning the UN. Impressive. Well, what should we have done? What was so effective that we should have kept doing rather than invade?
CNN: Iraq's "programs were crippled by years of [U.N.] inspections and U.S. military strikes," he said, "and the sanctions that prevented them from getting anything going at all."
MVG: Really? But the inspections had ceased altogether due to Saddam's refusal to cooperate. Are you suggesting that continued US military strikes alone would have kept everything in check?
CNN:
MVG: And weren't people dying because of the sanctions? Or was that because of Saddam dropping them into shredders?
CNN:
MVG: I see. What headline did you put over this story?
CNN: "Report says Iraq didn't have WMD" with a sub header "Author: Political pressure influenced intelligence before war"
MVG: Did you display this story prominently on your website or bury it like some sort of pointless self-serving idiotarian blather?
CNN: It was our top story on the "More top stories" list on the international edition.
MVG: Well, that settles that. I guess we'll just "move on" then. Thanks for stopping by!
The cold months grip half the world, and this shall pass.
The Season of lies is upon us. And perhaps for quite a while.
Enter a smoke and mirrors world where grief is real and truth is illusive.
For if Iraq is a world gone through-the-looking-glass then that glass may be in a house of mirrors; a strange place where nothing is as it seems.
Peek through the door of the house.
BAGHDAD, Iraq — Occupation officials unveiled a short video they say shows that U.S. troops who raided a Sunni mosque and uncovered a cache of weapons did not trash the place, as some have suggested.
Bemused and concerned? Not too worried? Then step through the portal to our mirror world.
Where is the hard truth in this tale?
The events of May 12 - when the mistreatment allegedly occurred at Camp Bucca, a detention center in southern Iraq - remain controversial.Harris said that Brig. Gen. Ennis Whitehead 3d, acting commander of the 143d Transportation Command, found that the three soldiers had maltreated the prisoners. Two of the soldiers were demoted, and all three were ordered to forfeit their salaries.
The general found that Master Sgt. Lisa Marie Girman, 35, of Hazelton, Pa., knocked a prisoner to the ground, "repeatedly kicking him in the groin, abdomen and head, and encouraging her subordinate soldiers to do the same," Harris said.
<...>.
Staff Sgt. Scott A. McKenzie, 38, of Clearfield, was found to have dragged a prisoner by his shoulders and then held his legs apart, "encouraging others to kick him in the groin while other U.S. soldiers kicked him in the abdomen and head," Harris said.
McKenzie was also found to have thrown the detainee face-down to the ground and to have stepped on "his previously injured arm."
<...>
Spc. Timothy F. Canjar, 21, of Moscow, Pa., was found to have made a false statement to the Army's criminal investigators and to have held a detainee's legs apart "while others kicked him in the groin," in addition to "violently twisting his previously injured arm and causing him to scream in pain."
<...>
The fourth soldier, Sgt. Shawna Edmondson, 24, of Chinchilla, requested and received an "other-than-honorable" discharge from the military last year rather than face a court-martial.
In an interview last month, Edmondson said that she and the other soldiers had been made responsible for transporting prisoners, duties for which they had not been adequately trained.
Are there two sides to every story? Would that it were so simple. There are an infinite number of sides to every story. Perhaps our mirror is a prism?
Or a rhetoric-spewing machine?
Let's turn the ugly dial up a bit, shall we?
Part II here
I've inadvertently drawn visitors here from Roger Simon's blog via a comment left there. As that was not my intention I feel I must now restore cosmic blogospheric harmonic (the triple "ic") balance and request you click here and read his post regarding political labels. (And here and here and here.)
Actually, I'd have linked that anyway as it echoes some of my own thoughts on the subject (though I may be a bit further down the road from point "a" to point "b" than are some others in the discussion.)
To which I'll add this:
In time the meanings of words changes. For instance, three generations of the same family will each apply different primary meanings to the word "gay". Grandpa: "happy"; Dad "homosexual" Sonny: "stupid" (those of you without teen age kids probably weren't aware of the latest iteration. It's in the common lexicon now and in many cases not meant to be derogatory towards homosexuals. To those homosexuals who have issues with this I respond that many didn't appreciate the usurpation of "happy".)
Likewise the word "liberal" has transformed in the minds of many to mean "someone who thinks exactly like I do about everything". (Interestingly they apply the word "conservative" to those who do not.) It's not surprising (though it is sad) that this is especially true in the minds of some younger people, who never knew differently. They may indeed be "Leftists", but they are far from liberal.
And probably not happy either.
Update: Hugh Hewitt, on his radio program, relates an observation from Fraters Libertas that a significant number of people who claim to have been liberal Democrats pre-911 now identify themselves as Republicans, and asks if there are any examples of travelers in the other direction.
Did any conservative Republicans experience a great epiphany, a lifting of the veil, a falling-away-of-the-scales moment that day that led them to become Democrats?
While many of these crossover folks still call themselves "liberal" they disdain the Republican label. Hugh (chuckling) took the opportunity to mildly chastise those who deny, or to call out those who remain "closet Republicans", urging them to admit and embrace their true identity.
As Republicans, an American liberal party.
More from Michael Totten here.
And in sublime irony I note that Dean had all of them beat by a long shot.
On a similar-but-different note, more from Roger Simon:
...My own experience from blogging (definitely new information technology) is that many times blogs, especially the better ones, tend to push their writers to the center. The instantaneous feedback of this medium often (note I say often, not always) forces people to defend and confront their own more extreme positions, which they end up revising (happened to me).
"President Bush has said this was an act of war. We are in a state of war… there will be a prolonged effort by our government to make sure that these attacks cannot continue. You, as students of Norwich University, will take part in some of these actions, as my father's generation took part in the actions of WWII, and my generation took part in Vietnam."
-- Howard Dean, September 14, 2001, Norwich (Vermont) College Corps of Cadets Review
Some may consider Dean's 2001 remarks as hypocritical or inconsistent with Dean '04. However, his statements are unwaveringly consistent as clearly his participation in the current war is reminiscent of (or inspired by) much of his generation's participation in Viet Nam.
Hat tip: The Double H
Among the things Santa brought to my house this year was a copy of Monty Python's Life of Brian.
Couldn't help feeling a bit of deja vu while watching this next segment (and not because I'd seen the movie before) when Brian first encounters the "revolutionaries" of the People's Front of Judea:
Brian: Are you the Judean People's Front?Reg: ____ off!
Brian: What?
Reg: Judean People's Front! We're The People's Front of Judea! Judean People's Front, ___!
Rogers: Blighters...
Brian: Can I...join your group?
Reg: No, ____ off!
Brian: I didn't want to sell this stufff, it's only a job! I hate the Romans as much as anybody!
All in PFJ: Ssch! Ssch! Ssch! Ssch! Ssch!
Brian: Oh.
Judith: Are you sure?
Brian: Oh, dead sure. I hate the Romans already.
Reg: Listen! If you wanted to join the PFJ, you'd have to have really hate the Romans.
Brian: I do!
Reg: Oh, yeah, how much?
Brian: A lot!
Reg: Right, you're in. Listen, the only people we hate more than the Romans, are the Judean People's Front.
All in PFJ except Brian: Yeah!
Judith: Splitters!
Rogers: And the Judean Popular People's Front!
All in PFJ except Brian: Yeah! Splitters!
Loretta: And the People's Front of Judea!
All in PFJ except Brian: Yeah! Splitters!
Reg: What?
Loretta: The People's Front of Judea. Splitters!
Reg: We are the People's Front of Judea!
Loretta: Oh. I thought we were the Popular Front.
Reg: People's Front!
Rogers: Whatever happened to the Popular Front, Reg?
Reg: He's over there.
All in PFJ except Brian: Splitter!
Regular readers of the Gazette will recall this report from an American participant at the recent anti-Bush demonstrations in Trafalger Square:
I marched with the other Americans that I could find after the initial chaos. On television, marches look like a single, cohesive unit. They aren't. While all the participating groups may agree on ending the war, they don't necessarily agree with each other.For example, the American Expatriates didn't want to be near the neo-communists. We thought it wouldn't help our 'we aren't anti-American' image if we were photographed with hammer and sickle flags in the background. As we moved away, the socialist workers filled the gap. But the neo-communists and the socialist workers didn't like each other either. Each group tried to get as far away from the other, while still moving forward. It was like pushing the same poles of a magnet together.
At this point, the dreaded hippy-mobile came up behind the American expatriates. The hippy-mobile was a psychedelic construction. Bicycles, wagons, and carts connected together in a train, painted green, with a windmill on top and lots of speakers blaring music. Hippies with fairy wings and dressed in animal costumes maneuvered it through the crowed.
It was the physical incarnation of everything I hate about hippies.
While I appreciate their anti-war/pro-peace sentiments, I'd rather be photographed with the anarchists than the hippies. I know they want to help, but they only succeeded in making the rest of us look foolish, and they played into the anti-war stereotype. They were leaning into a punch the anti-anti-war people were waiting to deliver. My only comfort was that the rest of the crowd didn't seem happy to see them either
I suggested to a no-nonsence-take-charge woman with the Wesley Clark 2004 campaign that we should make a break for the front and get away from the hippies. She agreed. We then led a mad dash through the crowd, dodging and weaving around hundreds of protesters and police. The rest of the Americans followed as best they could.
Now, if you've been studying very hard, you should be able to tell whether the following is from Monty Python, a recent Democratic debate, the last Al Qaeda tape, or Michael Moore's website, or...
Reg: They bled us white, the bastards. They've taken everything we had. And not just from us! From our fathers, and from our father's fathers.Loretta: And from our father's father's fathers.
Reg: Yeah.
Loretta: And from our father's father's father's fathers.
Reg: Yeah, all right Stan, don't delay with the point. And what have they ever given us in return?
Revolutionary I: The aqueduct?
Reg: What?
Revolutionary I: The aqueduct.
Reg: Oh. Yeah, yeah, they did give us that, ah, that's true, yeah.
Revolutionary II: And the sanitation.
Loretta: Oh, yeah, the sanitation, Reg. Remember what the city used to be like.
Reg: Yeah, all right, I'll grant you the aqueduct and sanitation, the two things the Romans have done.
Matthias: And the roads.
Reg: Oh, yeah, obviously the roads. I mean the roads go without saying, don't they? But apart from the sanitation, the aqueduct, and the roads...
Revolutionary III: Irrigation.
Revolutionary I: Medicine.
Revolutionary IV: Education.
Reg: Yeah, yeah, all right, fair enough.
Revolutionary V: And the wine.
All revolutionaries except Reg: Oh, yeah! Right!
Rogers: Yeah! Yeah, that's something we'd really miss Reg, if the Romans left. Huh.
Revolutionary VI: Public bathes.
Loretta: And it's safe to walk in the streets at night now, Reg.
Rogers: Yeah, they certainly know how to keep order. Let's face it; they're the only ones who could in a place like this.
All revolutionaries except Reg: Hahaha...all right...
Reg: All right, but apart from the sanitation, the medicine, education, wine, public order, irrigation, roads, the fresh-water system and public health, what have the Romans ever done for us?
Revolutionary I: Brought peace?
Reg: Oh, peace! Shut up!
From the NY Times (with emphasis added)
PARIS, Jan. 6 — Two French citizens were killed Tuesday in Iraq, the French Foreign Ministry said. They were first from this country to die as a result of the American-led war that France has vehemently opposed.<...>
The two, who have not been identified, were apparently shot late Monday on a highway west of Baghdad after their vehicle broke down. Another French citizen traveling with them was reportedly wounded.
Not to be crass, but the more direct cause of their deaths may have been the shooting, rather then the American-led war.
Unless, like others, the New York Times is now attributing every death in Iraq to the war.
The Foreign Ministry said those killed were working in Iraq for an American company without the knowledge of the French government. It did not identify the company but cautioned other French citizens to register with the French government if they travel to Iraq.Implying the French government could have prevented the deaths, had they only known?
Like every death in Iraq and elsewhere, these were tragedies. At some point though, the "blame America" crowd is going to have to learn how to "move on" towards solutions.
Now would be a good time.
Go read this. The no-fooling, must-read, post that you do not want to miss. (Scroll to Homecoming for the Next Great Generation if perma link fails.)
No excerpts here. Take my word and go.
And link.
They're coming. Tell the world.
Speaking of great patriotic Americans, I just saw the opening bit from Dave Letterman. Last night's show, for you folks in America. Dave, Paul, and Biff gushing over their experience in Iraq. All of them came across as extremely sincere in their praise. (Note: Perma link not available at this time. Select Monday, January 5, 2004 show #2099 from menu.)
Dave seemed humbled by the visit. He says he found it fascinating, inspiring, and historical to be in such a place at that time. Biff included how proud he was of all the men and women who are serving. Dave, of course, agreed whole-heartedly. Dave tells the story of talking to one soldier who said he was in Afghanistan last year and is now in Iraq. Dave joked, “The military is really getting their money’s worth with you.” The soldier responded simply, “It has to be done.”
He told that last story in a way that left no doubt that he was very impressed with that young man's response.
And was Paul the first Canadian to visit the troops?
Dave, who recently became a father, missed his son's first Christmas to be with the troops.
A New Yorker for whom 911 was literally close to home, Dave was never a big flag waver for the build up and early execution of the war in Iraq. And he certainly isn't a cheerleader for President Bush. But these (not quoted on the web site) were his final words on the subject on his show:
Regardless of how you felt about it, should we go in or not, the reason you should support this now is the men and women of the United States military.
Thank you sir.
Funny stuff posted here from radio personality, columnist, author and blogger Hugh Hewitt:
The Pentagon announced new rules for the fall 2004 Army-Navy-Air Force-Marine Corps football tournament.1. Only flag football will be played. The Joint Chiefs of Staff deemed
tackle and touch football too dangerous. First, because of the CNN
factor, the public will no longer tolerate even one field casualty.
Read it all. I laughed so hard on the next-to-last paragraph that the kids complained that I was drowning out the TV in the next room.
And lest you think he's having fun at the military's expense, I assure you he is not. Mr Hewitt "gets it", as he aptly demonstrates in his pre-thanksgiving column here:
I do not think it is possible to thank the men and women of the armed services often enough for the sacrifices they make. Many serving in Iraq, Afghanistan or other faraway places are reservists who dropped everything in their civilian lives to answer a call. The regulars are just as far away from home this holiday season. If the military provides a Thanksgiving feast in some hall at Bagrham or in Mosul, it may be hot and it may be good, but it will still lack the rhythms of home and spouse and children. Thousands will be on duty throughout the day and night ... some will be in combat.
I'd salute him for that column alone but now I get the added honor of thanking him for blogrolling MilBlogs - thank you sir. Welcome aboard.
For some strange reason this story brings to mind Michael Jackson's fabricated shoulder dislocation. Maybe it's because of the use of recorded media to expose the falseness of the claim. Could Mikey and the Mullahs be using the same advisors?
Video defends GIs’ actions in mosqueBAGHDAD, Iraq — Occupation officials unveiled a short video they say shows that U.S. troops who raided a Sunni mosque and uncovered a cache of weapons did not trash the place, as some have suggested.
The video, shown to reporters, showed the calm sleuthing of soldiers and piles of machine guns and bomb-making materials. But it also showed troops with rifles at the ready, worshippers down on their stomachs and a soldier forcing one man to the ground.
<...>
The troops did, in fact, find weapons, though clerics with the Ibn Taymiyyah mosque have said such stores are normal and not intended for use against U.S. forces.
“These are hand grenades,” Kimmitt said, narrating the video. “Lots of TNT … a significant amount of weapons found, far beyond that needed for self-defense.”
When asked whether the video would further inflame Arab sentiment, Kimmitt said the use of a mosque as a weapons stash should do so, instead.
“That’s the picture, I think, that strikes one watching the video.”
That would be nice, if the truth were ever to make its way to ears that want to hear it.
But read this and this and determine if the truth matters.
You may note the absence of a paypal button on this site. Some day I may need one, until then I yield to the many fine charities I've linked in the sidebar.
But now for something completely different.
I'm going to link to a post from Sgt Hook detailing why he now has a paypal button.
All proceeds will go to the Sgt Hook morale fund which will be used to help keep morale up for my soldiers once we get to Afghanistan. I'm hoping to have a BBQ each weekend we are there so that they can enjoy a little down time and count down "52" BBQs until we are mission complete.
You can also buy merchandise, but to really maximize the benefit to Hook's troops I recommend the paypal button on his sidebar.
Note to my fellow MilBloggers - I hit Hook's Paypal tip jar (using my real name, thou shalt not tell, Hook.) and I challenge the rest of you to do so also. (Yes, we did just survive Christmas.) I think among all of us we can certainly afford to buy Hook's gang at least one BBQ.
And I'm making another link banner to keep in permanent position on my sidebar while he's deployed. I'll have it up shortly.
It does at first sound like yet another follow up story to Saddam's Hole. But then an uneasy deja-vu replaces that warm fuzzy feeling (amnesia?) that Kim was trying so sincerely to share with the world.
And like toys in Cracker Jacks, all CNN stories now contain a surprise nugget of imbedded ignorance.
The nuclear dispute flared October 2002, when U.S. officials said North Korea admitted having a secret nuclear weapons program in violation of international agreements.
...U.S. officials said North Korea admitted having a secret nuclear weapons program...?
Damn those US officials! Why couldn't they leave well enough alone?
Here's a simple way to "support the troops", and it's free.
Read Blackfive's post, and leave a message at the site he links.
I recall using Caringbridge a while back to send messages to Cpt Will, a friend of Tim and Cpt Patti while he was recuperating at Landstuhl. Seems to me this is a genuinely worthwhile organization.
Link button added to sidebar!
A great post here from Hugh Hewitt, a true scholar and gentleman. Read, follow the links, follow your hearts.
ISTANBUL -- The allegations can be heard almost everywhere in Turkey now, from farmers' wives eating in humble kebab shops, in influential journals, and from erudite political leaders: American troops have raped thousands of Iraqi women and young girls since ousting dictator Saddam Hussein.Articles in Turkey's Islamist press reporting the allegations have fanned opposition here to the US invasion of Iraq to white-hot anger -- and even, apparently, to murder.
Nurullah Kuncak says his father, Ilyas Kuncak, was boiling about the rumored rapes just before he killed himself delivering the huge car bomb that devasted the Turkish headquarters of HSBC bank last month, killing a dozen people and wounding scores more.
So, a couple female GIs are discharged for beating up Iraqi men while their fellow soldiers are raping thousands of Iraqi women?
The initial reports in the Turkish press were published in Yeni Safak, a leading Islamist journal.The first, a front-page article on Oct. 22, stated: ''In addition to the occupation and despoilation, thousands of Iraqi women are being raped by American soldiers. There are more than 4,000 rape events on the record.''
What is the significance of the number 4000 to the Islamofascist? Oddly enough, it's the same number of Jews who were said to have stayed home from work at their jobs in the WTC on 911.
The second article, published Dec. 3, claimed that the 54 Iraqis killed in the city of Samarra on Nov. 30 did not die when they attacked US convoys and were repulsed, as the US occupation authority reported, but were shot while rioting over the kidnapping and rape of 30 young girls by US soldiers.
Most humans have a filter they can pass information through and determine whether it has a "ring of truth" to it. Most, but not all.
One of the most dangerous aspects of these rumors, say Turkish and Western officials, is that people who do not at all fit the stereotypes of suicide bombers -- people like Ilyas Kuncak -- may be motivated to drastic action. The embassy official noted that Kuncak's son and one of his daughters told the Turkish media after their father blew up the HSBC office building in Istanbul's financial district that their father had been upset about the rape reports in the days before he set off the blast.The suicide bomber's son, Nurullah, interviewed recently in his late father's spice shop in Istanbul's Bagcilar neighborhood, said Ilyas Kuncak's anger was perhaps a key to understanding the otherwise baffling question of why his father did what he did.
''Until now, I agreed with the Western idea that suicide bombers were poor people with nothing to lose,'' Nurullah Kuncak said. ''But look at my father. He had two houses, a good shop, five children, and two grandchildren.''
What is the immediate cause of this bizarre claims, resulting in so much death? According to this Boston Globe article credit goes to self-proclaimed "sex therapist" Dr. Susan Block, (California-based, doctorate in philosophy) who posted a porn-laced idiotarian hate screed on her website:
The supreme victory for the rapist is proof that his victim "enjoyed" it. Though he may force his way into her property, demolish her home, murder her loved ones, pillage her belongings, though he may terrify and humiliate her, beat and batter her, break her bones and tear her flesh, spill her blood, wound her organs and lay waste to her very soul, if, in the midst of the rape, between tears and shrieks of agony, if his victim should, for a moment, for some reason, any reason, if she should smile, or, better yet, orgasm, the rapist is redeemed; he is even (in his mind) heroic.This is why, when the Anglo-American rape of Iraq began, we so desperately searched the Iraqi faces on our televisions for a smile.
I'll refrain from commenting on the type and level of detail involved in her rather well-developed rape fantasy.
The violence and the discovery of the source reached the US Embassy in Turkey, which
...strongly denounced the reports, calling them ''outrageous allegations . . . based on a US `source' best known for her pornographic websites and erotic television program.
"Dr" Block responds:
''I am a sex therapist and I use sexual terminology for political commentary,'' Block said. ''I did not say American troops are literally raping Iraqi women. . . . I don't know if Americans are raping Iraqi women. I do know they are killing them. I don't know if that's much better.'' She said it is clear that she was using ''rape'' as a metaphor for "invasion."
Obviously there are a lot of things she doesn't know. And it's clear that her web site still features the screed quite prominently posted. I suppose in her mind a few dead Turks is a small price to pay for the increase in web site visitors.
The bottom line though, is here is another example of the proof to the claim that idiotarian public statements from the American left do influence the actions of our enemies around the world, and in this case actually helped create enemies.
And bring death. Of course, "Dr" Block says she doesn't know if murder is much better than rape.
I'm not advocating any abridgement of free speech here; just pointing out that such speech has consequences.
''I am appalled to be misquoted and even more appalled that the story inspired someone to such violence,'' she said.
Smiling, perhaps.
Hat tip Best of the Web Today
The latest from Maj Pain:
Anyway. I finally got outside the berm here, something I haven't done since I landed here in August. I KNEW there had to be a world out there! So when a group of us were invited to lunch and a tour of a local hospital (well, kind of local - it was about 100 miles away), I jumped at the chance. The incidents of little things that could ruin your day (like IEDs and small arms fire) have drastically decreased, so I felt this was a good time to go.
Wow - maybe soon the reporters there will feel brave enough to venture out of their hotel bars!
More insight here - go read!
Please welcome the Stryker Brigade to the MilBlogs Ring.
Zeyad of Healing Iraq provides translated Iraqi opinion poll results (Hat tip: Smash.) in which 59% expressed "overwhelming joy" as reaction to Saddam Hussein's capture by U.S. forces. Additionally, approximately 80% (or more in some cases) of respondents felt that the Iraq-Iran war, invading Kuwait, mass graves, and gassing the Kurds were criminal acts. Of those polled, 60% thought he should be tried by an Iraqi court, vice an international court of justice or an Iraqi court with international advisors, and 56% chose "execution" as the fair judgment they believe Saddam deserves.
Approximately 20% felt that none of those things were crimes and believed that Saddam deserved clemency.
Other questions and responses:
How do you think Saddam's capture would affect the resistance?
Decrease resistance activities 53%
Increase resistance activities 27%
Cessation of resistance 20%
Which is more important to you?
Providing security 54.9%
Providing fuel 35.8%
Saddam's capture 34.4%
Providing electricity 28.8%
Improving the economic situation 5.3%
An expectation of decreased resistance and a desire for increased security bodes well for the U.S. But would every person who responded "vote" the same way if America's soldiers were to depart their land? A ridiculous question, perhaps, but recall the pre-war anti-US demonstrations in Baghdad - orchestrated, to be sure, but an argument could be made that the people of Iraq are conditioned to follow the leader.
No one knows at this point in time who that next "leader" will be, and many are hedging their bets.
The Stars and Stripes story again, for insight, in the form of additional details on the deployment of the Iraqi Civil Defense Corps on their recent mission:
The Iraqis broke into two groups, each platoon taunting the other with catcalls. They cheered. They sang.?Saddam no good,? offered one of these men, Pvt. Ali Abbas. ?He killed my brother.? Abbas thanked the United States and President Bush for ousting the dictator.
?My family thanks you. I thank you.?
Not everyone agrees with Abbas, and this makes his job difficult and dangerous.
Unlike the guardsmen, the Iraqis have no fortress in which to sleep come evening. They simply return to their families. Some cover their faces in scarves or ski masks so that terrorists won?t know who they are.
Let's be honest here: Feelings of insecurity among Iraqi Civil Defense Corps members are not conducive to success.
Images from the fall of Saigon to the retreats from Beirut and Mogadishu are probably not far from some minds.
A repeat of any of those seems unlikely with the current administration, but in a society sometimes motivated by vengeance masquerading as honor the idea of masking yourself prior to marching out with the Amers has an obvious attraction.
And we are going to withdraw at some point in time, right? And then what?
Perhaps the French experience might be comparable, insofar as treatment of collaborators goes:
The worst collaborators were well known; underground newspapers had been blacklisting their names since 1941 and the BBC's French - language service had broadcast nightly warnings that their day of reckoning was approaching. Now, with their German protectors either imprisoned or in flight, many traitors were hunted down and executed without mercy and often without a trial. During the weeks before and after the liberation, at least 11,000 collaborators were summarily executed.
One hopes the Iraqi moral veneer (or at least restraint) exceeds that of the French.
An argument can be made that long suppressed rage overcame any humanistic desire for due process in France, that the Vichy "had it coming" and "got what they deserved". A counter claim can be made that many "loyal French citizens" were eager to demonstrate their patriotism, and acted out against others to prove beyond question their moral courage and outrage. Such discussion is academic in this context.
Citizens tend to vent their anger and outrage on targets of convenience in these instances; collaborators with an unpopular occupying power have little chance of thriving in the post-occupation environment. Whatever the truth of the matter, events such as the Ibn Taymiyah mosque charade tend to remain in the national conscience. (And in the minds of many truth is debatable, as recent history has shown.)
There is a final point to make here: there is no valid comparison between Germany's occupation of France and America's of Iraq. It's contrast. (Though there are those who would have it otherwise.) Baghdad is not Saigon, Beirut, or Mogadishu, as sure as America has changed since 911. Of course, there is one certain way to shut down the comparisons, and that is to "leave" Iraq a strong and stable partner in the world; a demonstrable difference in how Germany left France or we left the other tragic lands. Not an entirely unlikely scenario, and with each passing day much more likely than (and infinitely preferable to) a repeat of the near anarchy and barbarism of 1945 Europe.
Why? An immediate fallout from the capture of Saddam. And, in spite of abundant election year naysayers and slanted media coverage, with the dawn of a new year we can increasingly shift our focus to building up our allies (never an ignored aspect of the occupation anyway) as opposed to suppressing our foes (without ever once forgetting their presence.) Still more of a minefield than a flower garden, to be sure. But although there's always cause for concern, there's increasing reason for optimism too.
Stars and Stripes again:
But before it was finished, once the street opened wider and brighter, people gawked at the soldiers and paramilitary Iraqis. They waved from shops selling eggs, soft drinks and carpets. A boy soon zipped along the march on his bicycle.Despite the masks, despite the rifles, no one seemed afraid.
One way or another, soon the masks must be gone.
Part I here
Another story on cooperation between US Forces and Iraqi Civil Defense Corps personnel, and the uneasy and fragile "support" of the civilian population:
On New Year's Day, coalition soldiers entered the Ibn Taymiyah mosque in the southwestern part of the Iraqi capital, where they found a large weapons cache and arrested 32 people, [said] spokesman Brig. Gen. Mark Kimmitt.Kimmitt called the mosque a "hub of anti-coalition and anti-Iraqi activities" and the scene of insurgency cells' meetings.
"Despite the clear use of this mosque for criminal, terrorist and anti-coalition activities, great care was taken by coalition forces to uphold the sanctity of the mosque and to use the minimum amount of force necessary to conduct the operation," he said.
He said confiscated weapons included high explosives, TNT, blasting caps, gunpowder, grenades, detonation cord, artillery primers, rocket launchers, mortar tubes and sights, AK-47 rifles and ammunition. Soldiers also found materials for making the small bombs regularly used to target coalition convoys, he said.
Several of the men detained in the raid had dialects that suggest they are not Iraqis, Kimmitt added.
Mosque leaders who remained free Friday demanded the release of the men detained, including their sheik.
"If they do not release the detained, they [Sunnis] will expel the Americans and hit the Americans everywhere," a mosque leader said.
Americans entering mosques is a sensitive issue for Iraqis, something Kimmitt said was considered in the raid's planning.
But Kimmitt said U.S. troops tried to be sensitive to the mosque's spiritual basis by following Iraq Civil Defense Corps personnel and Iraqi police into the place of worship.
In a protest Friday, angry Sunnis accused the troops of ripping pages in the mosque's copy of the Koran, Islam's holy book, as their leaders called for an end to the U.S. occupation in Iraq. Sunnis are the Muslim sect of deposed Iraqi leader Saddam Hussein."Bush, you are the devil," some protesters shouted. "We are the soldiers of Allah."
One demonstrator said, "Certainly, rancor and hatred of American government will increase. What do you expect from an occupied people whose sanctities are trampled by Americans?"
Another leader denied that Sunnis from the mosque had ever used violence to protest the U.S. presence.
"We have been filled with frustration since the arrival of American forces, and we seek to drive them out," he said. "But we have used no military approach in this mosque. It is just calls to unify Sunnis and to solve their problems."
He also accused U.S. leaders of being angry that the Sunnis are trying to set up a religious authority, similar to one Shiite Muslims established. Shiites, the majority Muslim sect in Iraq, make up about 60 percent of the country's population.
Kimmitt said the mosque was clearly "being used for purposes other than free religious expression." The action was taken, he said, based on reports from Iraqis that the mosque was the scene of criminal and terrorist activities.
Mosque leaders invited a CNN crew into the mosque Friday to show what they said American soldiers had done, including a damaged copy of the Koran, a gift to the mosque from former Egyptian President Gamal Abdel Nasser.
"They tore up the book of God," one mosque leader said. "God will tear them up. They trampled the book of God with their feet. They had the pretext of weapons, but they have found no weapons but found the Koran and tore up the Koran."
Kimmitt said the Army investigated the allegations and found them unfounded.
"... The coalition forces have been asked that specific question, and all deny taking any activities against some of the artifacts inside the mosque," he said.
Now I'll reveal to you that you're actually half way through a lesson in spin. I took this story from CNN, and re-arranged the paragraphs without altering a single word (other than correcting an apparent typo omission in the first paragraph). The original article is here, and I think you'll find it a bit different.
Or is it just me?
Part III here
From Stars and Stripes a story headlined More Iraqi troops participating in raids:
BAGHDAD, Iraq ? In a move that U.S. commanders hope will push more day-to-day peacekeeping responsibilities over to Iraqis themselves, the Army is organizing raids to hunt down terrorists using overwhelming numbers of local paramilitary troops.On Monday, about 35 members of the Florida National Guard provided security and intelligence for an operation into Baghdad conducted by about 80 members of the Iraqi Civil Defense Corps.
American troops hope such operations will be steps toward a nominally normal Iraq. The occupying coalition has spent $3.3 billion in tax dollars to establish the defense corps as well as an army, border patrol and other institutions.
?This is a complete role reversal,? said Capt. Rodney Sanchez, commander of Company A, 3rd Battalion, 124th Infantry of the Florida National Guard. Typically, the number of Iraqis would mirror the number of Americans on such a mission. Ramping up the participation of Iraqis essentially doubled the captain?s forces.
?We?re not there to run the mission,? Sanchez said inside his compound, a former officers club used by the Republican Guard. ?We?re there to just observe.?
<...>
?We don?t expect [resistance], but we always plan for it,? Sanchez said. ?We?re looking for a specific person and we don?t know which house he?s in.?
Upon deploying the team springs into action:
They banged and clanged against two huge iron gates, turquoise and heavy, but the threshold remained fast. An older man in a greatcoat and tie eventually turned up. He offered to fetch his machine gun and pistol.?Sometimes they?re a little overly helpful,? said Sgt. 1st Class James Gilleon. ?They?ll put out a weapon, and you?re like, ?Whoa-hoa! I?ll find it.? ?
The man, the owner of the house, told Gilleon he is a former diplomat. His daughter lives in San Francisco.
?That?s great,? Gilleon replied.
The retired diplomat did his best to be diplomatic.
?You do very well,? he said of the search. ?It?s for my sake.?
The man joked that his Aladdin fairy tale gates could keep out anything, save a tank. He knew full well the soldiers, of course, could arrange that.
It's actually easier to be diplomatic to large groups of people with guns than you might think. Still, this seems like a very nice group:
If someone seems legitimately out for the evening, the soldiers still bust in, but take before-and-after pictures and leave a note asking for the bill.?You try to do as little damage as possible,? said Sgt. Jerry Walden. ?But you gotta do what you gotta do.?
An odd nicety, and a reminder that while in Baghdad you are through the looking glass.
At its end, the joint raid netted only the few automatic rifles ? the ones troops returned to their owners ? and an intelligence tip the coalition already had.But before it was finished, once the street opened wider and brighter, people gawked at the soldiers and paramilitary Iraqis. They waved from shops selling eggs, soft drinks and carpets. A boy soon zipped along the march on his bicycle.
Despite the masks, despite the rifles, no one seemed afraid.
And there you have it. An awkward group of allies, apparently with the early indications of a still somewhat uneasy support of the people. Working together for a common goal.
Not too impressive, perhaps, when viewed through the filter of comparison with our own such forces, but amazing when the incredibly short time we've been there is considered.
Baby steps. Gotta crawl before you can walk.
Part II here
My last list post.
I do several posts on heroes who've passed on. I think their stories are worthy of song, here in the Inn at Mudville, where some times warriors gather and tell their tales. Now tell me this guy shouldn't be included in the crowd at Valhalla?
HOPE
The bases in Saudi were a large part of Osama's problem with America. Now he has other problems.
BUH-BYE
Another hero post. Tip your glasses to this man.
per libertà
Stolen Valor
This story needs more publicity, I think a lot of readers will agree. The book is on my short list.
Battle Ground
A look at Baghdad just prior to the capture of Saddam. This already sounds like the "bad ol' days."
Samara
Another example of twisted TV news reporting, this time regarding one of our biggest victories of the post-war Iraq campaign. I'll let the individuals speak for themselves.
Choosing Sides
A personal favorite that reminds me of the president's "your either with us, or you're with the terrorists" quote. He meant that, you know.
Saddam Says
Saddam quotes. What more can I say?
Speaking of quotes... Why? is an excerpt from a much longer piece I've been working on for quite some time. (This is the second hint I've given regarding that.)
Hmmm... that's only nine...
See you this weekend!
(Warning: graphic descriptions of violence)
The cynical side of my nature tells me the senior editorial staff at the New York Times had this week off. As a result we get this glimpse through the looking glass into the cold world of the military sniper.
...Their words reflect a certain icy professionalism instilled in men who say they take no pleasure in killing, and try not to see their Iraqi foes as men with families and children."You don't think about it," said Specialist Wilson, 24, of Muncie, Ind., speaking at an austere base camp near here after a late-afternoon mission. "You just think about the lives of the guys to your left and right."
Sergeant Davis nodded in agreement: "As soon as they picked up a weapon and tried to engage U.S. soldiers, they forfeited all their rights to life, is how I look at it."
If the individuals say they take no pleasure in killing, I would believe it. Thus I'd rewrite that first paragraph:
Their words reflect the certainty and icy professionalism of men who take no pleasure in killing...
Otherwise the reporter (or editor) does an admirable job of presenting a view of a world likely alien to him. The story even goes on to note that the Army is capable of adapting and training to meet the needs of a situation. (Again my cynical side cries out that the senior staff were on holiday this week.)
As the Army faces more conflicts in which terrorists use the tight confines of city blocks and rooftops to stage hit-and-run strikes, the sniper school has placed increasing emphasis on urban tactics. That makes sense in places like this city of 250,000 people, a hotbed of Saddam Hussein supporters 65 miles northwest of Baghdad.The training paid off on Dec. 18. Dusk was setting in here, and Sergeant Davis was wrapping up a counter-sniper mission when he spotted an armed Iraqi on a rooftop about 300 yards away. He said he knew the gunman was a sniper by the way he sneaked along the roofline to track a squad below from Sergeant Davis's Company B.
"The guy made a mistake when he silhouetted himself against the rooftop," said Sergeant Davis, who has 20/10 vision. "He was trying to look over to see where the guys were in the courtyard."
As the gunman rose from the shadows to fire, Sergeant Davis said he saw his head and then the distinctive shape of a Dragonov SVD Russian-made sniper rifle. The sergeant drew a bead on the shooter with his weapon of choice, an M-14 rifle equipped with a special optic sight that has crosshairs and a red aiming dot.
"I went ahead and engaged him and shot him one time to the chest," he said, matter of factly. "I watched him kick back, his rifle flew back, and I saw a little blood come out of his chest. It was a good hit."
Three days earlier, Company B walked into an ambush in downtown Samarra in which gunmen on motorcycles used children leaving school as cover to attack the patrol. Sergeant Davis, armed this time with an M-4 rifle, shot 7 of the 11 attackers that American commanders say died in the 45-minute skirmish.
"We don't have civilian casualties," the sergeant said of how he avoided the schoolchildren. "Everything you hit, you know exactly what it is. You know where every round is going."
Cold hard certainty. As Hugh Hewitt notes in the post that led me to the story:
Capturing Saddam was a crucial step in the pacification of Iraq, but the dead-enders that didn't get the message are getting a much more lethal one.
Yep. Curtesy of the Stryker Brigade, from Fort Lewis, Washington.
And here's a blog dedicated to that Brigade.
(Already Installanched. Heh.)
Egyptian foreign minister Ahmad Mahir almost spent Christmas in an Israeli hospital.
From Al Jazeera:
Egyptian Foreign Minister Ahmad Mahir fainted at the al-Aqsa Mosque complex after dozens of Palestinian worshippers scolded him for visiting the holy site under Israeli occupation. <...>"He wasn't physically attacked, and nobody touched him in the first place," said Muhammed Sub-Laban, who witnessed the incident inside the al-Aqsa complex.
Which may be technically true, but CNN reports that
Dozens of people inside the mosque, upset by the visit with Sharon, shouted insults at Maher and threw shoes at him -- a sign of disrespect in the Arab world. He was hurriedly escorted from the area by his security detail and Israeli police.
Whatever actually happened, the Palestinians certainly won no sympathy for their cause. MEMRI, the Middle East Media Research Institute, produced translations of reaction to the attack from Egyptian and other Middle Eastern editors and columnists. Excerpts follow.
From Egypt:
Al-Masaa daily: "Did those Palestinians who attacked the Egyptian foreign minister... ask themselves why Maher agreed to take upon himself the suffering of going to Israel and meeting with Sharon and his cabinet? Did he go just to tour a country with which we have cut off relations and gotten into political crisis for the sake of Palestine...?! Do the Palestinians want Egypt to keep its hands off the Palestinian issue? This would be the easiest thing to do and has already been done by many Arab countries... You beat the man who came on your behalf, and it is Israel that takes him to the hospital for treatment. What shame and disgrace you have cast upon yourselves and on your cause?!.Akhbar Al-Youm weekly:
"I do not think that the Egyptian people can forget or disregard those years when its political leadership was the target of the ugliest of attacks - not only by the Arab media but also by some rulers, led by Saddam Hussein and Yasser Arafat... The Egyptian people will also not forget that Yasser Arafat danced with joy when the assassination of President Sadat was announced..."The time has come to tell the Palestinian Authority, 'No! A thousand times no!'... No more will we turn the right cheek to take the same slap that the left cheek has taken time and again. We are fed up, Your Excellency, sole spokesman of the Palestinian people, with your repeated statements [blaming] any anti-Egyptian act on the part of the Palestinians on a tiny, stupid minority...
Al-Ahram:
"... Are these scum of the earth capable of accomplishing something for the Palestinian people? It is reasonable to assume that they, like the supporters of suicide bombings, are the first to damage the Palestinian cause, and are bringing death upon the Palestinian people..."
Elsewhere:
Qatari daily Al-Raya: The truth is, I don't care which faction they belong to. This attack should be [condemned] by anybody with a brain, or half a brain.Lebanese daily Al-Nahar:
...Once again, we realize that the Arabs are their own worst enemy - just as the worst enemy of the Palestinian cause is the Palestinians, who have endorsed a policy of refusal and fundamentalist extremism as a way of behavior. How many times have they already served Israel with their deeds? How many times has the behavior of these groups already saved Ariel Sharon and his government?
Given the post-Iraq war climate, noting the steps taken by Muammar Qaddafi towards rejoining the world community, it is certainly not beyond consideration that many "moderate" Muslim nations don't need much more of an excuse to bring pressure towards resolving the strife in their backyards. Or allowing it to be resolved, if you prefer.
But will these words be backed by action? There's an attitude of my brother and I against our cousins, and with our cousins against all others that tends to prevail in that part of the world. The Al-Nahar translation actually expresses some frustration at trying to maintain that attitude amidst increasingly hostile behavior by the Palestinians, as do all the other pieces if read with that consideration. Toss in a liberal dose of fatalistic Insha'Allah and you've got a recipe for zero forward progress.
Without action we have here merely a pointless UN-type scolding, vice an American style response. The difference between "scolding" and "throwing shoes", if you will.
An update from Al Jazeera can be read here.
Points for debate: are these actual positive developments, and how much, if any of this would be occurring without the past year's events in Iraq?
I've been fortunate to have gained the attention of "the big blogs" over the past
year. I've thanked them in a previous post, and in a way this one is related, because their links (for the most part) made these entries what they were: those that were viewed by the most people. Perhaps not my personal favorites, but I'd be lying to deny pride in these entries, which I present here in chronological order.
Sacred Words
This post began as a comment in another blog, on the eve of the Iraq war. The follow up was added in May, and made a nice Memorial Day tribute. I note that the best part of this was not written by me. I still can't read this impassively. To me it requires a response. Tears.
Saving Hollywood
This David vs. Goliath story was my entry in the first ever New Weblog Showcase at TTLB. At that time there were 2,500 blogs in the ecosystem. Not that much time has passed, but now there are 6000+.
A long gap between "hits" as I worked on a long-term project. As it neared completion I thought the slight boost in readership it would bring my blog would provide a great opportunity to publish another project that was important to me, the story of Rick Rescorla. Ha! Within a few hours of posting 911 Remembered: Rick Rescorla was a Soldier my site was overwhelmed, my bandwidth exceeded, and only an effort by Mr. and Mrs. Du Toit kept the story up for a brief period until I was able to extend my bandwidth. (Thanks again to both, and we miss you Mrs. D.) I think the Gazette touched a lot of people this past 911, and that really surprised and pleased me.
The other project? Delayed. More on that a bit later.
I had to take October off, but I did manage to post a link to Chief Wiggles Toy Drive that month. I've always cheered when blogs accomplish good things.
I resumed blogging in November, and shortly before Veterans Day (holidays always inspire me, now that I think about it) while trying to keep my blogroll updated with all the other military blogs I was finding on the web, I gave up. Okay, actually I returned to an idea I'd had a couple months prior, had gone so far as discussing via e-mail with Sgt Hook, in fact. MilBlogs was born. I started sending e-mail on Veterans Day morning my time, people joined during the day, and by Veterans Day evening Instapundit time we were launched big time. From spark to fire in less then 24 hours. Less than 2 months later there are nearly 50 members and two dozen "friends". My sincerest thanks to all.
The Warrior Caste would not have existed without MilBlogs. The inspiration was another post (linked in the story) and later other MilBloggers joined the discussion. I appreciate the way elements of the hero story and personal reflection on how close to home it struck combined with an immediate interaction only possible in the blogosphere and created a compelling final product.
December was a "good month" for Mudville. Early in the month Bias created a bit of a murmur in the blog world. I really enjoy using pure quotes to display and expose media ineptitude and prejudice. Reading printed transcripts of television broadcasts is especially effective, as it demonstrates that such previously careless or thoughtless utterances are now subject to scrutiny. Expect more of this from Mudville '04.
In a previous post I mentioned Buck Fush! My protest sign-inspired lampoon of an imaginary left-wing talk radio program. When John F Kerry made his infamous career torching statement I couldn't help but remember it when the time came to fan the fires of his self-immolation. By strange coincidence, I had a filed picture I'd saved, thinking at some point I'd find some use for it. Voila! As the French say. Kerry: BUCK FUSH!
The Little Red seemed obvious to me. Google did the rest.
Saddam Captured. I was on this one early. My off-hand reference to the American Left was originally not meant to include a lot of folks who thought they were included. I almost said so, then realized they doth protest too much. Know what I mean? This post was huge due to the sheer number of Blogs that linked. Fun, though spoiled a little by some who wanted everyone to join hands and sing kum ba ya. My response to anything is to immediately asses the next threat. That's a built in by years of military service aspect of my personality, I suppose. I blogged the Saddam story around the same time it broke officially. I predicted a response. Within a few minutes my forecast was verified.
Dear Time Warner More reads in two days than any other post on this site. Five words, 25 trackbacks (countless other links), 75 comments on this site, lots more on others. (My posts often generate more comments on blogs that link them! Such is life, folks comment in their comfort zones.)
Operation Bob Hope Idea born on Dec 24th, grew out of the "Post Exchange" project we're developing for MilBlogs. I wish I'd thought of it sooner. Will redo this one next year.
The Grinch II Like most entries on this list, this one could only exist in the blogosphere. Let the Grinch hide in his bomb shelter, the rest of us will live our lives.
Again, obviously none of these would be on the list without being linked by other folks. They clearly get the credit. Further, the biggest were actually not linked by the biggest blogs, just lots of blogs. A lesson for those who yearn for such attention: keep doing what you're doing.
If you build it, they will come.
Many months ago during the height of the war in Iraq I found myself increasingly trying to find the lighter side of the news. (Bear in mind that everytime I saw pictures of GIs at the front I was seeing faces of friends.) As time went on I shifted more towards "serious" topics. Still, back in the archives are some things I thought were funny at the time. Some are already painful to me now, but I'll toss them out in hopes that you'll laugh with me, not at me. (And if anyone out there has read all these before, thanks for being a "long time friend.")
In chronological order, a bakers dozen things that seemed funny at the time:
March:
Diddling around on blogspot, without a care in the world, I thought this would be a recurring series here. I did revive it (sort of) for a recent entry about John F. Kerry, pottymouth. Buck Fush!
Meanwhile, on another Blogspot blog, Ooglay Hussein was chronicling the war from his uniquely twisted point-of-view. Day one and later.
April arrived, and before the anti-war left could fully mobilize, Baghdad fell.
By this point in time most people were truly getting tired of reporters expressing their ignorance in press conferences. Just because you can talk the talk is no reason not to shut up.
And poor Ooglay! He had to hit the road. The US was rounding up his kinfolk, after all, using these high tech devices.
By May, Ooglay was safely in America, and blogging for the new, non-blogspot Mudville Gazette.
Just in time for the release of Hillary's book in June.
In the heat of August he returned to Baghdad. What sane person would do that?
Of course, history says the situation would be a quagmire.
And by the end of the year the protesters were finally re-energized enough to fizzle in Trafalger Square.
More lists for the New Year...
The shameful secret of most bloggers - it's hard to top Google for referrers! And the shameful secret part 2 is the (usually) weird things they come looking for...
Before I get to that I'll note with relief that Rick Rescorla is the most common search here. We're the top Google for that name. (A name held in very high esteem in these parts!)
And Greyhawk and Mudville Gazette account for a good number too. So lots of folks seem to come here on purpose.
But shortly after those come the inexplicable.
Why, for instance, does my fictional series on a former president's investigation into a terrorist organization draw so many hits?
And I swear I had no idea that this entry would put me at the top of the Google pile for "Hussein family pictures".
Score:
Hussein family: #20
Hussein Family Pictures #9
Sexy Hussein family pictures: #1
There are other variations on this theme.
How about this? Mudville is #1 for Bush is a big fat liar and #2 for Bush is a big fat idiot. Here's why.
And Mudville scores way too high on searches for news on this guy. And for whatever reason, folks still leave comments.
And the stuff Ooglay Hussein writes about (his tortured family history being what it is) really brings 'em home.
I wonder if Ooglay will return in the New Year?
Of relief for some, frustration for others.
Bad girl, you twisted spinster, you.
Having us update the Blog Rolls for the New Year. Oh well, there is cack there I must delete anyway, to make space for the new. Might as well get to it.
Trivia quiz:
According to Al Jazeera, Michael Jackson is not
a. A liar
b. A pedophile
c. A Muslim
d. A freak
The correct answer is "c".
Al Jazeera says Looey Farakhan's Nation of Islam...
...is regarded by mainstream Muslims as heretical because of its alleged racism and deviant theology.
And furthermore,
The Nation of Islam said on Tuesday it had "no official business or professional relationship with Mr Michael Jackson".
So now you know.
The Mudville Gazette... truth, however repulsive it may be.
Ten Random Blogs that have sent less than 100 visitors here:
Some are small, some just started, some just recently linked the Gazette. Whatever the reason, the majority of readers to almost any blog come from the total of many small links rather then the few big ones. I chose these at random, but I appreciate them all. (And now I'll be a small contributor to their sites too, if you, dear reader, would be so kind as to click!)
DANEgerous (and obtw check out his story about Front Page Magazine's 'Man of the Year")
