Arlington

When the battle is over, when the 300 have gone..., then will Greece look to the Spartans, to see how they bear it. But who ladies, who will the Spartans look to? To you. To you and the other wives and mothers, sisters and daughters of the fallen. If they behold your hearts riven with grief, they too will break. And Greece will break with them. But if you bear up, then Sparta will stand and all Greece will stand behind her. Why have I nominated your men and you to bear up beneath this most terrible of trials, you and your sisters of the three hundred? Because you can.

At the Castle, the story continues.

Roll Call From Veteran's Park

From Jules Crittenden (author of the entry below) comes this Memorial Day tribute in the Boston Herald. There is no finer place to be than Main Street, USA on days such as these. Thanks for taking me there, Jules.

Knowing I'm the sort of guy who appreciates such things, Jules adds this via email:

Addendum re King Philip's War. It was proportionately one of the bloodiest wars in American history. Out of a colonial New England population of about 50,000, about 600 were killed. That's 1 in 10 of the militia that were fielded, and more than 1 in 100 of the English population. I haven't seen numbers on the Indian side. By that time many of the colonists were second- and third- generation Americans, Both sides were fighting for their homes and their survival, but as in many wars, there were politics and misunderstandings in the runup. The two sides had been doing business for years and had even been friends. King Philip believed that his uncle was poisoned by the colonists, after he sickened and died after a visit to Marshfield, the town where I live just north of Plymouth. Marshfield, with a population of several hundred people, is recorded to have sent 27 militiamen, at least eight of whom died, about 2 in every hundred.

And not forgotten.

The Killing of Atwar Bahjat?

London Times reporter Hala Jaber was the victim of a cruel hoax:

The Iraq Execution Video That Fooled Me

Hala Jaber, foreign reporter of the year for the past two years, explains how she was hoaxed over the death of a friend

THREE weeks ago in these pages, I reported that I had seen a video recording of a friend and colleague, Atwar Bahjat, one of Iraq’s top female journalists, having her throat cut and then being decapitated.

I was mistaken. It was a hoax, and I apologise to her family for the pain I have caused them and to the many readers who were distressed by what I wrote.

The video was not of Atwar but of a Nepalese male hostage decapitated two years ago. How could I have got it wrong?

When a reporter for a respected newspaper says they've seen a video execution of someone they know personally, there's little reason to believe they are wrong. But I don't completely fault the reporter - the video was low quality, and the power of suggestion is strong. I certainly believed Jaber's story, although when questions were raised about this story I was also the first to pass those doubts on. Rusty Shackleford was able to "complete the investigation" within hours of the appearance of the orginal Times account. Such is the strength of "new media".

As noted here previously, none of this diminishes the horror of either event - the killing of this man or the murder of Atwar Bahjat. But this is a perfect reminder that sometimes even the most convincing reports are simply wrong.

And there's a lesson to be learned in this statement:

Although the video came from a group that had been reliable in the past, the insurgent who sent it was new to me.

Always consider your sources. Perhaps the truth is not their main concern?

(Previous entries on this story here and here)

Tibor Rubin

Our Memorial Day 2006 salute to the fallen continues. Originally from September, 2005, this salute to a hero of the Korean war is a reminder of those who fell in actual death camps - a term that's been much cheapened in recent years.

Meet Tibor "Ted" Rubin, survivor of the Nazi death camps, and an American hero:

Nazi guards made sure Rubin understood despair at the age of 13. A Hungarian Jew, he was forced into the Mauthausen Concentration Camp toward the end of World War II. But Rubin defied odds: He survived. After the war he moved to New York, and eventually joined the same Army that liberated him from hell on earth.

From the horror of the Holocaust arose a bravery that few can match. Rubin went on to fight in the Korean War and was taken prisoner by the Chinese communists. This time, he breathed life into his fellow captives, who were dying at the rate of 40 a day in the winter of 1950-1951.
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Of the Nazis, Rubin remains baffled by their capacity to kill. He was just a boy when he lost his parents and two little sisters to the Nazi's brutality. "In Mauthausen, they told us right away, 'You Jews, none of you will ever make it out of here alive'," Rubin remembers. "Every day so many people were killed. Bodies piled up God knows how high. We had nothing to look forward to but dying. It was a most terrible thing, like a horror movie." American Soldiers swept into the camp on May 5, 1945, to liberate the prisoners. It is still a miraculous day for Rubin, indelibly imprinted in his heart. "The American Soldiers had great compassion for us. Even though we were filthy, we stunk and had diseases, they picked us up and brought us back to life." Rubin made a vow that day that he's fulfilled ten times over.

"I made a promise that I would go to the United States and join the Army to express my thanks," said Rubin. Three years later he arrived in New York. Two years after that he passed the English language test -- after two attempts and with "more than a little help," he jokes -- and joined the Army. He was shipped to the 29th Infantry Regiment in Okinawa. When the Korean War broke out, Rubin was summoned by his company commander.

"The 29th Inf. Regt. is mobilizing. You are not a U.S. citizen so we can't take you -- a lot of us are going to get killed. We'll send you to Japan or Germany," Rubin remembers being told.

"But I could not just leave my unit for some 'safe' zone," Rubin said. "I was with these guys in basic training. Even though I wasn't a citizen yet, America was my country."

Rubin got what he wanted and headed for Korea -- to the good fortune of many Soldiers who served alongside him.

In the early days of the Korean war the US, after withdrawing to the Pusan Perimeter, counterattacked and crushed the North Koreans in a rapid advance to positions in mountainous terrain near the border with China. At this point, however, the Chinese entered the fray.

At the end of October 1950, thousands of Chinese troops were laying in wait. Masters of camouflage, they blended into the brush and burned fires to produce smoke to mask their movements. When Soldiers of the 8th Cavalry Regiment were stretched before them like sitting ducks, the Chinese swarmed in.

"The whole mountain let loose," said Rubin, who was then a corporal serving in the 8th Cav.'s 3rd Battalion. On Oct. 30 the 3rd Bn.'s firepower dwindled to a single machine gun, which three Soldiers had already died manning. By the time Rubin stepped up to fire, most of his fellow Soldiers felt doomed in the confusion of battle.

"Nobody wanted to take over, but somebody had to. We didn't have anything else left to fight with," he said. Rubin's buddies say he was a hero, selflessly defending his unit against thousands of Chinese troops.

Battle raged for three days around Unsan, then the Chinese pushed the Soldiers south. Those who survived retreated with little or no ammunition and hundreds of wounded. More than 1,000 men of the 8th Cav. were listed as missing in action after the battle, but some returned to friendly lines or were rescued by tank patrols in the following weeks.

Earlier in the war, as the 8th Cav. moved toward the Pusan Perimeter, Rubin kept to the rear to ward off North Koreans nipping at his battalion's heels. At 4 a.m., while defending a hill on his own, Rubin heard gunfire from what sounded like hundreds of enemy troops. "I figured I was a goner. But I ran from one foxhole to the next, throwing hand grenades so the North Koreans would think they were fighting more than one person," he said. "I couldn't think straight -- in a situation like that, you become hysterical trying to save your life." "He tied up the enemy forces, allowing the safe withdrawal of Allied troops and equipment on the Taegu-Pusan road. The enemy suffered, not only tremendous casualties ... but it slowed the North Korean invading momentum along that route, saving countless American lives and giving the 8th Cav. precious time to regroup to the south," wrote CPL Leonard Hamm in his nomination of Rubin for the MOH.

And when Hamm himself later lay fallen, it was Rubin who fought to go back for him when the first sergeant issued orders to leave him behind. "But we didn't know if he was dead," Rubin said. "All I could think about was that somebody back home was waiting for him to return." Rubin was pinned down by snipers and forced to low-crawl for several hundred yards when rescuing Hamm, whose body was so loaded with shrapnel that he could hardly lift a limb.

"Rubin not only saved my life by carrying me to safety; he kept the North Korean snipers off our butts," said Hamm.

When battle ended in Unsan, hundreds of Soldiers were taken prisoner by the Chinese. They were forced to march to a camp known today as "Death Valley," ill-dressed for winter's freezing temperatures, exhausted and hungry. Many of them grew sick with dysentery, pneumonia or hepatitis. Others died. "It was so cold that nobody wanted to move, and the food we got was barely enough to keep us alive," said former Sgt. Richard A. Whalen.

That's just the beginning of the story that's still far from over. The White House announced September 14 that Cpl. Rubin, in recognition of his courageous actions in Korea from 1950 to 1953, will be awarded the Medal of Honor. The Medal of Honor will be presented to Rubin during a White House ceremony, September 23.

Read the rest of the amazing story here and here.

Update: Watch video of the ceremony here.

2005-09-21 16:53:48

The Cat in the Hat Comes Back

JFK:

"They gave me a hat," Mr. Kerry says. "I have the hat to this day," he declares, rising to pull it from his briefcase. "I have the hat."

Me: Thank you sir, for giving me an excuse to link this again. It was the most fun I ever had with my clothes on.