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Ghosts of
Vietnam and
the "Evil Empire" "Just like Apocalypse
Now, except without the grass and acid," weapons that left no traces." MIDDLEEAST.ORG - MER - Washington - 8 December: More and more even in Washington circles these days one hears...but in spoken whispers certainly not in the corporate print or TV media..."police state", "fascism", "Good Germans". As for Capitol Hill, it looks more like a "no-go-zone" these days -- beyond being 'Occupied Israeli territory' -- than the Congress of a free and brave democracy. Most Americans of course are amazingly naive about the world they live in and the history of anywhere else other than their own 'God blessed' brave new land. But when this innocence becomes crusading imperialistic hubris on a worldwide rampage; and when the very social, political, and economic fabric of the country begins to noticeably weaken putting even the near future in doubt; the time for taking note and speaking up is now at hand for far more than before. But the forums for doing so -- especially anywhere near the corridors of power and influence -- are limited, credible forums even more so, potent forums almost non existent. Under these circumstances some of the best commentary about what the Americans are really doing in the world, as well as to themselves, often comes from abroad these days. Foreigners away from American shores and the restrictions of the big corporate media and political propaganda machine are ironically often more able and more free to thoughtfully reflect on the ways of the American Empire than are its own. The following with echoes about Vietnam comes from Australia; and following that with echoes of the "evil empire" Soviet Union comes from Canada. Iraq echoes an apocalypse past The scene is Iraq and the Euphrates but it is eerily similar to Vietnam and the Mekong of yesteryear, writes Anthony Loyd The Australian - 08dec04: THE ghosts of Vietnam drift through Iraq. Denied and dispelled by advocates of the war, they slink back in the "mission creep", "quagmire" and "bodybag" accusations of its critics. On the north bank of the Euphrates river on Sunday they gathered again, chattering through the rotorblade throb of two overhead Hueys; whispering through the tall rush-beds dividing the paddy fields and irrigation ditches; lurking beneath the palm trees and shadows thrown by a fat orange sun; echoing the words of the young American soldier driving Bravo Company's commander to the starting line of the day's sweep-and-search mission. "My father was in the Special Forces in Vietnam," said Private Scott Carlisle, 25. "He did four tours there between 1969 and 1973. He was shot in the Mekong Delta, but survived, hiding beneath the body of one of his buddies after his platoon took 90per cent casualties and the VC went through them, finishing off the survivors. "He was a great soldier. but a lousy husband and an even worse father. He died when he was 48. He lived life hard." It was early morning. Private Carlisle and more than 100 other Bravo Company troops of the 44th Engineer Battalion, 2nd Infantry Division -- backed by Abrams tanks, Bradley fighting vehicles and Humvees -- were deploying on Operation Bear, a lengthy mission to search for the weapons caches of an otherwise invisible enemy. Across the oily brown, slow-moving expanse of the Euphrates sat the city of Ramadi, obscured by a line of palms and thick vegetation. A hotbed of insurgent activity, the area has taken the lives of 41 soldiers and wounded 300 more of the 5500 men in Private Carlisle's brigade since they deployed to Ramadi in September. Dismounting from their vehicles, the American sappers moved forward in lines across the paddy fields, some bearing mine detectors, all laden with up to 27kg of equipment including their M16s, grenades, 9mm pistols and ammunition. The sun climbed and the heat bore down. Of combat-age Iraqi males, there was no sign. Instead, as the American searchlines converged on the few dismal farms, they found only women and children. "Seen any suspicious activity in the area?" Captain Duncan Smith, a civil affairs officer whose father served twice in Vietnam, asked the women through an interpreter. The answers were identical: "No, nothing." "Where are your menfolk?" "Away at work." "It's always the same," Captain Smith said. "Ninety-nine per cent of the time they tell you nothing, and the men have all skedaddled at the first sign of the military." A child offered him an orange. He accepted it, smiled and turned away. "Better not suck it in case it explodes," he quipped. Four Small Unit Reconnaissance Craft, crewed by marines and engineers, joined the operation. Bristling with mounted machineguns, the small boats careered across the river from bank to bank, their heavy wash slapping at the reed beds. "Just like Apocalypse Now, except without the grass and acid," a US marine sergeant murmured as he watched the boats' progress. One of the craft soon discovered a large weapons cache of mortar rounds and 130mm shells concealed on the bankside. They blew it up. The blast reverberated up the river. A discussion ensued between the craft's crew and the sappers' commander, Lieutenant-Colonel Tommy Mize. "We usually sink all the Iraqi boats along the banks when we find a cache," a marine insisted. "Well, you're not sinking all the boats today," Lieutenant-Colonel Mize declared. By late afternoon a brooding tiredness had settled on the soldiers. No longer were the searchlines straight. Then, contact. A burst of gunfire, joined by another, then another, and the nought-to-ninety-in-a-second rip and roar of the adrenalin rush that momentarily leaves the mind cartwheeling in its wake. Concealed insurgents, lying on both banks, had ambushed one of the craft and turned their fire on to Bravo company. In the boat, a sapper was hit and killed, another wounded. The craft fired back and, in the turrets of two Bravo company Humvees, machine-gunners joined the fray. Beside his commander's vehicle, Private Carlisle dropped to the ground and raised his M16. He saw two men ahead of him and opened fire. An hour later, long after the gunfire had finished, confusion reigned still. As news of the casualties spread, the men's mood sank palpably, except for Private Carlisle. "I got one," he exclaimed. "I didn't even have to think about it. We took fire, I dropped down, took aim, saw two guys running, opened up and one fell. I don't just think I got him -- I know it. Man, was that exciting." Of the insurgents there was no sign. And the murmur of the Mekong whispered again. Uncle Sam has his
own gulag
Behaving like the Soviet secret police won't make America safer, Eric Margolis says. 12/05/04
--
The Lubyanka Prison's heavy oak main door swung open. I went in, the
first western journalist to enter the KGB's notorious Moscow
headquarters -- a place so dreaded Russians dared not utter its name.
When they referred to it at all, they called it "Detsky Mir," after a
nearby toy store.
If you don't get MER, you just don't get it! MID-EAST
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Source: http://www.middleeast.org/articles/2004/12/1229.htm |