Why WE fight n die !!
Mon Oct 16, 2006 00:25





HE'S ALL OF 31 ...

... AND HE'S ONLY 17 ...

We Common People fight n die so the privileged can get even richer


Hello all,

The words of that song, Universal Soldier, by Donovan in the 1960s are as relevant today as they have ever been, but, then, why wouldn't they be? Throughout most of known human history soldiers have been at war killing and dying for the crazies that control them.

The weapons and the costumes may have changed, but the mentality remains the same. Why do we have wars? Because there are always people willing to fight them. As they used to say in the 60's: 'What if we had a war and no-one turned up?'

The troops are the war. Without them, what would we be left with? Dark suits like Bush and Blair declaring wars that no-one would fight. Their power would be gone. They certainly wouldn't don the uniform for anything more than a photo shoot when the sound of a car backfire has them running for cover.

We are seeing the evidence of this today with the U.S. and British military struggling to recruit enough body-fodder to die for someone else's cause. They have had to rely heavily on part-time soldiers ordered to the front line and others, long out of uniform, who are called back against their will to serve the dark hearts in the dark suits. The limitation in numbers = a consequent limitation in aggressive ambition.

No troops, no war.

'Did you hear the sound of gunfire?'

'Impossible, Georgie, impossible.'

Throughout the sorry tale of human slaughter, the same cry has echoed through history: 'You are heroes - God bless the troops - you are fighting for a great cause and a great country; you are fighting for freedom, fighting for truth and [the best one of all] you are fighting for peace.'

It has proved to be a compelling sales pitch. There seems to be something in the psyche that wants to be a 'hero' and to believe that they are 'doing' something to make it a better world. Anyone with John Wayne tendencies is a sucker to this big sell and yet, how appropriately, this very symbol of military heroism never saw a shot fired in anger and spent the Second World War strutting on a movie set where spilling your coffee was a war wound.

It's all bollocks and until young people reject the uniform as a relic of a past and primitive age, the bollocks will go on. For 'Support our troops' read 'Support our war'.

Henry Kissinger, Mr. War Criminal himself, encapsulated the contempt the suits have for uniforms when he said, as quoted by journalist Bob Woodward: 'Military men are dumb, stupid animals to be used as pawns for foreign policy.' That's exactly what they are to these people and all this 'hero' stuff is just the patter that sells the lie. Tony Fake Emotion said recently that he thought about the troops 'every hour' when the truth is that he, like Bush, doesn't give a damn about them. They are just a means to an end and soon both can walk away to the safety of their fortunes while new generations continue to kill, suffer and die in the wars that those two declared for the masters who control them.

Soldiers are subjected to vicious intimidation and threats for revealing the truth of what is going on in Iraq and Afghanistan, but many are now so desperate, so outraged, that they are telling their stories on the Internet and even in some parts of the mainstream media.

British troops are telling how they are paid 2.83GBP ($5.26) an hour for fighting at the frontline for 16 hours a day. Those almost constantly under fire amid the intense heat of Afghanistan are often paid less per hour than the lawful minimum wage in Britain. They would earn more serving in a Pizza parlour. As one soldier, Brian Wood, put it:

'The boys in Iraq and Afghanistan are fighting for their lives in dreadful conditions. Often they have no sleep or time to eat, the heat is unbearable, our kit is not the best, and the fighting is solid. And we're doing it for a pittance.'

Brian Wood was a lance corporal when he won the Military Cross for leaving an armoured vehicle under heavy fire to lead a charge against trench positions where rockets were being fired. He was said to have a 'brilliant career' ahead of him, but instead he quit. The penny had dropped. The suits could not care less about 'the troops' and neither do most of the peak caps. When he won his Military Cross, Wood was earning 1,300GBP ($2,417) a month and he left the military with next to nothing. Who cares? Not many, it seems, because he was no longer any use to the cause of global conquest.

Many British soldiers are even buying their own kit because the crap issued by the government is so poor, and back home their families live in appalling conditions on the military bases in 'homes' described as 'dilapidated, damp and sometimes dangerous'. Army wives have told how they wait for days for basic services to be restored with some children suffering severe electric shocks from faulty wiring. Paula Anderton, whose husband is fighting in Afghanistan, said she waited six months for a broken window to be repaired, went a month without central heating and had a gas fire that didn't work. As a result her son, an asthmatic, had to be taken to hospital. All this when the news could come at any moment that her husband had been killed or injured. For three months one military family had to fill the bath using a garden hose attached to the downstairs sink. Brian Wood said:

'All we want is the sense of being valued and that when we are on yet another six-month tour in some shit hole, our families left behind aren't living in another shit hole.'

But this will go on because there is no will to change it. Soldiers really are seen as just 'dumb, stupid animals to be used as pawns in foreign policy'. Yes, astonishing amounts of money are being allocated to military spending, but much of that goes in buying weapons from the armament manufacturers owned and controlled by the same forces that engineer the wars. It also gets siphoned off into secret projects that have nothing to do with the purpose officially intended.

'I have come to tell you that I am getting out of here as soon as possible ...'

If the troops and their families are treated with such contempt while they are still serving the master, is anyone surprised at what happens when they are injured so badly that they can fight no more? Daniel Twiddy is 26 and three and a half years ago he was on a Challenger tank near Basra in Iraq after fighting for four days. He was sleeping when a massive explosion threw him off the vehicle:

'A second round hit the tank and shrapnel went into my eyes and face. I suffered 80 per cent burns on my hands and head. I could hear, I couldn't see - I had flesh hanging off my body. I just curled up and thought: "This is it".

'Then I could remember being on my hands and knees. All I could feel was the incredible heat from the burning tank. I couldn't see much, just the blood that was pouring into my eyes from my head. That is the memory that keeps coming back.'

Daniel Twiddy has since undergone 20 operations and when he was discharged from the army after what was a 'friendly fire' attack, the Ministry of Defence would not even pay 60GBP a week for a therapist to apply moisturiser to his skin grafts and horrific burns. Every would-be soldier across the world should listen to his words:

'... from the moment I was discharged I realised that I meant absolutely nothing to the Ministry of Defence. I was just like a number, no more, no less. It's like they think: "He's out, get the next one in." They've not said sorry for what happened, they've not thanked me for my service.'

That story could be retold a billion times throughout the sick and repeating history of military conflict.

David McGough was trauma medic in his 20s when he served in Iraq with the Royal Army Medical Corps. His job was to treat, often pick up the pieces, of troops and civilians. Among his experiences was to be sent to confirm that a 12-year-old found hanging in the street was dead. It was the same girl that he and other troops had been chatting with a week earlier. It seems that this chat was the cause of her murder. McGough also tells of attending to an Iraqi shot 13 times with 'big chunks of his stomach, face and legs gone'. There were also the mass graves where he would have to dispose of civilians, including many, many children, almost every day.

These experiences left him deeply traumatised, more than he realised. When he returned to Britain he would vomit every day and couldn't handle the smell of burning meat. Then there were the sleepless nights and the flashbacks of what had happened. His mind was coming apart and he twice had to be talked out of suicide by his sister. He was put on Prozac, which did no good, and his weight fell from 11-and-a half-stone (161 pounds) to seven (98pounds).

Eventually, he was sent to a military psychologist who told him it was all in his head and he was to 'stop being stupid and get on with it'. I have rarely met a psychologist who didn't need one - the military kind even more so. McGough was discharged from the military because his services 'were no longer needed'. He was refused a medical discharge, which would have given him a pension and some support, and instead he was left to get on with it. 'I got nothing', he said.

Please remember this, anyone who is thinking of joining the military: They don't give a shit about you. They couldn't care less. You are a statistic, just body fodder in a uniform. When you're dead or maimed for life they'll just get some other poor sod to replace you. A cross becomes a tick and off we go again.

'I think your uniforms are jolly nice ... is my plane ready? ... okay, must go ...'

People like Brian Wood, Daniel Twiddy and David McGough now understand this self-evident truth, but the realisation came too late for them. Young people need to see it before they sign at the bottom. American Major General, Smedley D. Butler, certainly saw through the bullshit about 'heroes' and 'freedom'. This is what he wrote in 1933:

'War is just a racket. There are only two things we should fight for. One is the defense of our homes and the other is the Bill of Rights. War for any other reason is simply a racket.

It may seem odd for me, a military man, to adopt such a comparison. Truthfulness compels me to. I spent thirty-three years and four months in active military service as a member of this country's most agile military force, the Marine Corps. I served in all commissioned ranks from Second Lieutenant to Major-General. And during that period, I spent most of my time being a high class muscle-man for Big Business, for Wall Street and for the Bankers.

I suspected I was just part of a racket at the time. Now I am sure of it. Like all the members of the military profession, I never had a thought of my own until I left the service. My mental faculties remained in suspended animation while I obeyed the orders of higher-ups. This is typical with everyone in the military service.

I helped make Mexico safe for American oil interests in 1914. I helped make Haiti and Cuba a decent place for the National City Bank boys. I helped in the raping of half a dozen Central American republics for the benefits of Wall Street. I helped purify Nicaragua for the international banking house of Brown Brothers in 1909-1912. I brought light to the Dominican Republic for American sugar interests in 1916. In China I helped to see to it that Standard Oil went its way unmolested.

During those years, I had, as the boys in the back room would say, a swell racket. Looking back on it, I feel that I could have given Al Capone a few hints. The best he could do was to operate his racket in three districts. I operated on three continents.'

That's all it is, a racket on the road to global control.

This week, under gathering exposure of how the troops are paid and treated, the Blair government announced a pittance of a pay increase for troops at the frontline. The announcement involved Gordon Brown, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, who seeks to replace Blair as Prime Minister. The troops have been fighting in Afghanistan since 2001 and in Iraq since 2003, yet only when the scandal threatens to affect the suits is anything done, pathetic as it was, and even then the families will go on living, as Brian Wood put it, in 'shit holes'.

As the American authorities now desperately scan the schools and malls in the poorest areas in search of more young sacrifices, and the British struggle to meet recruitment targets, we have the opportunity here to undermine the insatiable quest for war by refusing to have any part of it.

They have the military draft in the background waiting to be introduced to force conscription as the realm of the misguided continues to contract and recruitment numbers fall, but the draft has no power either if enough just say 'no!' and those beyond military age stand beside them.

We have a choice, we always have a choice, and the time has come to make it. We can draw a line here and say no more, or we can continue this chorus forever ... 'He's five foot two, and he's six feet four ... he fights with missiles and with spears ...'

By Buffy Sainte-Marie

He's five feet two and he's six feet four
He fights with missiles and with spears
He's all of 31 and he's only 17
He's been a soldier for a thousand years

He's a Catholic, a Hindu, an atheist, a Jain,
a Buddhist and a Baptist and a Jew
and he knows he shouldn't kill
and he knows he always will
kill you for me my friend and me for you

And he's fighting for Canada,
he's fighting for France,
he's fighting for the USA,
and he's fighting for the Russians
and he's fighting for Japan,
and he thinks we'll put an end to war this way

And he's fighting for Democracy
and fighting for the Reds
He says it's for the peace of all
He's the one who must decide
who's to live and who's to die
and he never sees the writing on the walls

But without him how would Hitler have
condemned him at Dachau
Without him Caesar would have stood alone
He's the one who gives his body
as a weapon to a war
and without him all this killing can't go on

He's the universal soldier and he
really is to blame
His orders come from far away no more
They come from him, and you, and me
and brothers can't you see
this is not the way we put an end to war.


By David Icke

Oh hello lad,
Nice of you to come,
To fight for king and country,
You are a hero, son.
Now let's have a look at you,
Just say 'ahh' and cough,
Yes, that's fine,
I'll sign the form,
You're ready for the off.

(In fact, he's got a problem,
Something not quite right,
But I have to close my eyes to that,
We have a war to fight.
I have to say that he can go,
Even when there's doubt,
I have to send them down the line,
Get them kitted out.)

So off they go to Normandy,
Iraq or the Somme,
Bits of kids and fathers,
Fodder for a bomb.
And fodder for the generals,
With their master plans,
The educated idiots,
With blood upon their hands.

Wham! Bang! Wham! Bang! Bang!
Bloody hell, hit the ground.
Screech! Capow!
Their bodies never found.
Each a grim statistic,
Each a telegram.
Your loved one killed in action.
He was a hero, ma'am.

And by way of compensation
we have a pension here for you,
To help you bring the kids up,
To help to see you through.
(We don't tell her it's a pittance,
That she'll never see her husband's grave.
That he's no longer any use to us,
When we have the world to save.)

And what of the survivors,
With broken body,
Broken mind?
When they come home from battle,
What justice do they find?

'Right, move along now,
I have so much to do,
I have a lot to see today,
Can't spend much time with you.'

Main Page - Sunday, 10/15/06

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