Katie Couric, Charlie Gibson, Brian Williams and a tough old U.S. Marine Sergeant were captured by terrorists in Iraq. The leader of the terrorists told them he'd grant each of them one last request before they were beheaded and dragged naked through the streets.

Katie Couric said, 'Well, I'm a Southerner, so I'd like one last plate of fried chicken. The leader nodded to an underling who left and returned with the chicken. Couric ate it all and said, 'Now I can die content.'

Charlie Gibson said, 'I'm living in ' New York , so I'd like to hear the song 'The Mo on and Me” one last time.' The terrorist's leader nodded to another terrorist who had studied the Western world and knew the music. He returned with some rag-tag musicians and played the song. Gibson was satisfied.

Brian Williams said, 'I'm a reporter to the end. I want to take out my tape recorder and describe the scene here and what's about to happen. Maybe, someday, someone will hear it and know that I was on the job till the end.' The leader directed an aide to hand over the tape recorder and Williams dictated his comments. He then said, 'Now I can die happy.'

The leader turned and said, 'And now, Mr. US Marine, what is your final wish?'

'Kick me in the ass,' said the Marine.

'What?' asked the leader, 'Will you mock us in your last hour?'

'No, I'm NOT kidding. I want you to kick me in the ass,' insisted the Marine.

So the leader shoved him into the yard and kicked him in the ass. The Marine went sprawling, but rolled to his knees, pulled a 9 mm pistol from inside his cammies and shot the leader dead. In then emptied his sidearm on six terrorists, used his knife to slash the throat of another terrorist armed with an AK-47, which he took, and sprayed the rest of the terrorists killing another 11!

In a flash, all of them were either dead or fleeing for their lives.

As the Marine was untying Couric, Gibson and Williams, they asked him, ' Why didn't you just shoot them all in the first place? Why did you ask him to kick you in the ass?'

'What!?!' replied the Marine, 'and have you three idiots report that I was the aggressor?

For at least fifty years now ethnic identity has been at the head of the American agenda. African-American, Hispanic-American or Mexican-American, Asian-American, and gradually Jewish-American, Polish-, Italian-, Irish-, and other Hyphenated-Americans. The rule is, we must never notice these differences, while remaining always carefully aware of them. We must remember which group is the "group of the month" and appreciate its unique contributions and specialness, while simultaneously denying that it is in any way different, or that its members can even be detected by appearance, accent, or name. More recently we have discovered Gay-Americans, and even deaf-mutes, and others with congenital disabilities are demanding to be treated as hyphenated minorities. Even women. Women who are neither "disabled" nor in any sense a minority often demand their Hyphenated recognition. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the desire of everyone for a special identity, and to have it recognized, just so long as it does not become self-satirizing.

But what is an ethic group? It is not race or skin color, nor is it language, though these features may form a significant part of the formula. Essentially it is a uniquely defining background and shared experience which sets the members of the group apart. Frequently a part of this experience involves being stigmatized. Essential is a sense of self-identity.

Gradually, I came to realize that I am a Veteran-American. Am I kidding? Veterans as an ethnic group? How can that be, when they’re all sorts of colors, have all sorts of weird accents? True. But there is something else. For over half a century, we have been singled out by society, and while once upon a time we were not a minority, but the majority, like the American Indian we have gone from being a majority to a minority in our own land.

Special bond and experience? Of course. Its called war, though even those who served in peacetime share the experiences of training and barracks life. We have our own special language. Even if our language has dialects special to the World War, Korean, Viet Nam, and Gulf generations, we still understand each other as civilians cannot. We can understand military terms and make sense out of news reports as even the reporters cannot. And we have an understanding of what war is all about, and what is at stake in politics. There is a mindset which seems to be peculiar to Veterans, characterized by greater sense of self-discipline, and duty, of attention to detail and thoroughness, more attention to old-timey virtues.

Like a number of the acknowledged minorities we have seen our members mistreated because of our identity. And called ethnic names. "Dago"? "Nigger"? "Kike"? Use those names at your peril. But "Babykiller", "Warmonger", "Fascist", they seem to be socially quite acceptable.

Veterans are scorned, both by society and by government. Government budgets for caring for wounded and disabled Veterans is always limited, but budgets for the needs of other, civilian ethnics always seem to be limitless. And what company would deny a contribution to an Aids project or to a Rainbow Coalition shakedown? But when Military Veteran and Family Asistance came begging a few corporate contributions for programs to help our newest veterans readjust, the CEOs of major companies such as IBM, EDS (Ross Perot) [See editor's note below], Raytheon and many others lined up to give us the doorknob up the butt. AIDS, self-inflicted in the line of hedonism, is more worthy than wounds inflicted in the line of duty by the enemy. [/sarcasm]

And now I hear about the National Guardsman in Pierce County, Wa., attacked by a gang of civilians for being military. and other incidents also have happened in the recent past.

Other ethnics have sometimes tried to conceal their identities, changing their accents, and sometimes even trying to modify their skin color or hair. And then, every so often a few will try to emphasize their ethnic identity for political purposes. For how many decades have Veterans been concealing their status, not mentioning that of which they are most proud, trying to explain "two missing years" on their resumes, as if it were time spent in prison. And if Blacks have Rev’run Al and Jessie, we’ve got Kerry, McCain, and Murtha. Blacks hear "I don’t date outside my race", we hear "I don’t date babykillers". And yes, we also have Veterans whom we consider traitors to our ethnicity. See the above list for a few examples. The big difference is, we tend to disown those who would self-anoint themselves as our spokesmen. So of course, I am not speaking for you, I am speaking to you, urging you, us all, to stand up and demand our own share of recognition.

I’ve got a case of the ass. A big one. I’m not impressed with "Thank you for your service" which is becoming almost a cliche as "Have a nice day", or "welcome home" about forty years too late. It is appropriate for greeting someone at the airport dressed in DCUs. But to an old guy who’s been called a babykiller for forty years, its just rubbing in the salt. In January 1977, Jimmie Carter amnestied all the draft dodgers, deserters and other swine, proclaimed them my, our equals. That is a whistle which, like an ex-president, cannot be unblown. Then they elected a draft-dodger as president. Twice! Now they wish to honor us, equally with those who spat upon us?! No, not really. They’re willing, finally, not to honor, but to to forgive us for our service, forty years after the fact. And only if we become penitents and supplicants, meekly standing in line to beg a pittance from some bureaucrat who "served" in Canada from 1968 to 1977.

Then I observe the hedonistic slackers around me, those who do not, and will not serve. Those with no self-discipline or any willingness even to wipe their own lardbutts. Who demand, but do not give, who seek to cash in on the colors of their hides or their choice of sexual oddity, who worship only the Eternal ME. I say to myself, these are NOT my people.

I do not care what the color of your skin, or of your uniform. If you served honorably, you are my brother or sister. By the Grace of God and the US Congress, I am a Veteran-American. And proud. And you WILL NOT make me hide in the closet.

-Rurik

When in England at a fairly large conference, Colin Powell was asked by the Archbishop of Canterbury if our plans for Iraq were just an example of empire building' by George Bush.

He answered by saying, 'Over the years, the United States has sent many of its fine young men and women into great peril to fight for freedom beyond our borders.

The only amount of land we have ever asked for in return is enough to bury those that did not return.

It became very quiet in the room.


Then there was a conference in France where a number of international engineers were taking part, including French and American.

During a break one of the French engineers came back into the room saying 'Have you heard the latest dumb stunt Bush has done?

He has sent an aircraft carrier to Indonesia to help the tsunami victims.

What doe he intended to do, bomb them?'

A Boeing engineer stood up and replied quietly: 'Our carriers have three hospitals on board that can treat several hundred people; they are nuclear powered and can supply emergency electrical power to shore facilities; they have three cafeterias with the capacity to feed 3,000 people three meals a day, they can produce several thousand gallons of fresh water from sea water each day, and they carry half a dozen helicopters for use in transporting victims and injured to and from their flight deck..

We have eleven such ships; how many does France have?'

Once again, dead silence.


A U.S. Navy Admiral was attending a naval conference that included Admirals from the U.S., English, Canadian, Australian and French Navies.
At a cocktail reception, he found himself standing with a large group of Officers that included personnel from most of those countries. Everyone was chatting away in English as they sipped their drinks but a French admiral suddenly complained that, 'whereas Europeans learn many languages, Americans learn only English.'

He then asked, 'Why is it that we always have to speak English in these conferences rather
than speaking French?'

Without hesitating, the American Admiral replied 'Maybe it's because the Brits, Canadians,
Aussies and Americans arranged it so you wouldn't have to speak German.'

You could have heard a pin drop.


A group of Americans, retired teachers, recently went to France on a tour.. Robert Whiting,
an elderly gentleman of 83, arrived in Paris by plane.

At French Customs, he took a few minutes to locate his passport in his carry on.

'You have been to France before, monsieur?' the customs officer asked sarcastically.

Mr. Whiting admitted that he had been to France previously.

'Then you should know enough to have your passport ready.'

The American said, 'The last time I was here, I didn't have to show it.'

'Impossible. Americans always have to show your passports on arrival in France!'

The American senior gave the Frenchman a long hard look.

Then he quietly explained. 'Well, when I came ashore at Omaha Beach on D-Day in '44 to help liberate this country,
I couldn't find any Frenchmen to show it to.

My dad, on the right: 31st Engineer Battalion in Vietnam
Displaying the Indiana State Flag - A flag from each state was photographed for the soldiers - a great moral booster!

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War may be hell...but home ain't exactly heaven, either.
When a soldier comes home from war, he finds it hard...
Keeping it in Perspective...
Cpt. Alison R. Crane, RN, MS
Mental Health Nurse Observer-Trainer
7302nd Medical Training Support Battalion

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BAGHDAD BLUES
By RALPH PETERS
NY Post
11 May 2007

IN his remarks at the Pentagon yesterday, President Bush stressed two things: The troop surge - which still isn't complete - must be given a chance, and the Democrats need to knock off the shenanigans and vote our troops the funding they need to fight.

On the second count, Congress is behaving disgracefully. Guess I'm a slow learner, but it took me until now to realize that when Pelosi, Reid & Co. chant "Support Our Troops!" they're talking about the enemy.

As for the president's first point, he's entirely right. With a fourth combat brigade just arriving and a fifth still on the way, Gen. David Petraeus doesn't yet have all the resources he's been promised. He's only got three wheels on the car and the critics are howling for him to hit the gas.

Frankly, this surge is a desperate measure after four years of blunders and dithering. It may prove too small and too late. But the stakes are so high that, despite the inevitable cost in American blood, this last gambit is worth the effort.

And it is the last gambit. If the troop surge fails, we'll start striking the tents.

Gen. Petraeus is well aware of all this. (I can't help feeling he winced when the president referred to this made-in-Washington strategy as "Gen. Petraeus' plan.") If any four-star general on active duty can make it work, it's him.

Unfortunately, that's faint praise. The Army hasn't fielded a four-star with the breadth of vision to wage war at the strategic level and the killer instinct to win on the battlefield since Gen. Barry McCaffrey retired a dozen years ago.

As the generals who led infantry platoons and companies in Vietnam fade from the ranks, we face an incongruous situation in which our lieutenants, captains and majors are combat veterans, while the generals above them never fought in a direct-fire engagement or led daily patrols through Indian country.
Junior officers now have a better grasp of what war means than Army generals do. Platoon leaders want to win. The generals want to make people happy.

For two generations, we've trained military leaders to be statesmen in uniform, downplaying pugnacity and guts. We sent promising officers for Ivy League doctorates (thereby cutting off at least one of their . . . um . . . eggs), stressed political assignments, and inducted them into the Washington-insider cult of Salvation Through Negotiations.

Now we have bobble-head generals who nod along with the diplomats who want to hold their Versailles Conference before winning the war.

It's past time for our senior leaders to jettison the political correctness and fight to win. But they honestly don't know how anymore. They've been so thoroughly drugged with failed academic theories about counterinsurgency-with-lollipops that they're more concerned with
avoiding embarrassments than with killing the enemy.

The bitter truth is that, in the type of conflicts we now face,
we must be willing to fight as ruthlessly and savagely as our opponents. We have to play by their moral rules. Stay-at-homes who never served will howl in indignation, but the alternative is defeat.

And is it ever more virtuous to lose to fanatics with apocalyptic visions than to win?

The standard response from the campus commandos is that, if we descend to the level of our enemy's behavior,
we'll become as bad as them. That's crap. In World War II, we didn't exactly coddle the residents of Hamburg and Dresden, Tokyo and Hiroshima.

American soldiers can do what must be done without losing their virtues as citizens (most critics don't even know any soldiers personally).

The greater dangers may be that we've already sacrificed what hope there was for Iraq by waging war to please CNN and the pundits, and that we just don't have the numbers to make the surge work now.

We should all pray that this last-ditch effort succeeds. But we're paying for a decade-and-a-half of gutting our armed forces and sacrificing troop strength to pour money into the pockets of unscrupulous - and well-connected - defense contractors. Now soldiers die in sewage-flooded alleys while the billion-dollar bombers sit and rot.

And we're paying for ending the draft - not because the military wants it (it doesn't), but because we now have two generations of political leaders who don't have a clue what it takes to win a war. Not only haven't they served in uniform, they disdain those who enlist. (Think many soldiers get $400 haircuts like John Edwards?)

If anything, military service disqualifies you from having a voice on wartime strategy in Washington. In a closed-door session with one of our last great legislators and a fellow military analyst, I was asked if I thought the "oil stain" strategy - the concept behind the current surge - could save Iraq. My answer was, "Yes, if you can put a half-million troops on the ground."

That was almost two years ago, before the situation had deteriorated so badly.

Gen. Petraeus may pull this off - if the let's-take-a-long-vacation Iraqis can get their act together. Should he do so, he'll deserve a place in the history books as one of the all-time greatest military turn-around artists: By historical standards, he'll have less than a third of the troops he needs, even after the surge is complete.

Whatever happens in Iraq, the core lesson isn't that such conflicts can't be won - that's nonsense - but that you can't win if you're more concerned about placating your critics than about defeating the enemy.

Our troops know how to fight. Their leaders don't.

Ralph Peters is a retired Army officer.

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Exclusive On The Scene Report
AMERICAN IN AFGHANISTAN SEES GREAT CAUSE FOR OPTIMISM
Carried in Human Events, Week of May 7, 2007

An extraordinary thing happened in Afghanistan two weeks ago--and the West failed to notice. The American and Afghan governments collaborated to create an agricultural trade fair in the capital city of Kabul. The two-day event was much like the annual fairs in many U.S. states--except it was far more significant and significantly more important.

An estimated 50,000 visitors attended. Fully 30% were women, few of whom were covered by traditional veils. Thousands of families came. There was music--loud and boisterous at times, and modern. Teens clapped wildly and tried to reach the stage. There was dancing and singing. A children's circus performed, boys and girls together. Huge amounts of food and cold drinks were consumed. Ice cream was everywhere. Kids squealed with delight. Local TV and radio captured every minute. The spirit present had been unfelt for two generations. It was simply fun. Afghanistan was happy those two days. Somehow it became a joyous national breakout party.

National Pride

Business happened too. "We sold every piece of equipment we brought and made connections for additional work." said one of 180 exhibitors. Potential investors found opportunities: "It was great for business in Afghanistan" observed one. Farmers from all over the country witnessed demonstrations of new and better practices and of modern equipment. One of the farmers said of the fair: "It is as if a blind man enters and gets his sight." Giant tractors performed. Efficient irrigation was shown, products and processing displayed, services advertised, connections made, clients identified, buying and selling done, markets found.

Afghanistan also was proud these two days. "I haven't seen a fair like this before. I feel happy as I walk and see Afhgan products. Next time I will have a display myself," said a local businessman.

And as anywhere else, commercial interests followed potential business. Fair sponsors included Coca-Cola, Afghan Wireless, Kabul Bank, Crystal Water, Alokozay Tea, two leading hotels, and the most popular Afghan television network.

Doing the impossible

Stunning is an apt description of what took place here two weeks ago. Remember, this is the Afghanistan that was nearly annihilated by 35 years of bitter, bloody, cruel warfare.

But there is more. The fair itself was conceived, planned, built, and implemented in less than three months. To do this in any country would have been a major challenge. In Afghanistan it should have been impossible. But it happened, and it now serves to demonstrate that important things can be done here and can be done quickly. This is already changing perceptions and helping to change a pervasive fatalistic view of the future. Change can be made here. We just saw it happen.

Already demand has surfaced for events like this fair in other parts of the country. And now that the ground has been broken, that will happen. A new confidence and optimism emanated from this fair along with commercial and business transactions. Large public, productive, and pleasant events can take place in Afghanistan without stifling precautions and overbearing concerns for safety--we now have demonstrated that. One farmer observed: "Security is not the problem in Afghanistan, the economy is." Surprisingly, the fair proved to be a long stride toward social reform as well as an impact on agriculture development. At this time and in this country, that perhaps is the most enduring by-product of this remarkable event.

Most unnerving to the security agencies here but to the delight of the population, the fair was launched the night before by a fireworks display in the hills above the city. Imagine--in this of all countries! Bombs, rockets, explosions, and fire all aimed at pleasure and not at people. The symbolism of this for the citizens of this capital was breathtaking.

Ignored by U.S. Media

But, unless you had read this article, you would know nothinig about these singular events. Yet they are more significant than a roadside explosion or a suicide bomber or a lunatic beheading some perceived enemy. Those depravities take place infrequently and among seriously disturbed tail-enders still mired in the 13th century. The facts of and the dynamics around this event puts a more accurate face on the new Afghanistan.

The fact that events of such magnitude and meaning are less interesting to our media than death, destruction and despair means that Americans never will understand fully what is happening in Afghanistan, the potential existing here and the progress being made every day. The successful occurence of this massive agriculture fair and its continuing impact is a remarkable story of change in Afghanistan. But Americans are unlikely to hear it since it won't sell advertising time. At least you heard it here. This article was written by an American economic development expert living and working in Afghanistan.

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Gunnery Sgt. Michael Burghardt and Company
Photo by Jeff Bundy for The Omaha World-Herald
September 19, 2006

Leading the fight is Gunnery Sgt Michael Burghardt, known as "Iron Mike" or just "Gunny". He is on his third tour in Iraq. He had become a legend in the bomb disposal world after winning the Bronze Star for disabling 64 IEDs and destroying 1,548 pieces of ordinance during his second tour. Then, on September 19, he got blown up. He had arrived at a chaotic scene after a bomb had killed four US soldiers. He chose not to wear the bulky bomb protection suit. "You can't react to any sniper fire and you get tunnel-vision," he explains. So, protected by just a helmet and a standard-issue flak jacket, he began what bomb disposal officers term "the longest walk", stepping gingerly into a 5ft deep and 8ft wide crater.

The earth shifted slightly and he saw a Senao base station with a wire leading from it. He cut the wire and used his 7in knife to probe the ground. "I found a piece of red detonating cord between my legs," he says,
"That's when I knew I was screwed."

Realizing he had been sucked into a trap, Sgt Burghardt, 35, yelled at everyone to stay back. At that moment, an insurgent, probably watching through binoculars, pressed a button on his mobile phone to detonate the secondary device below the sergeant's feet. "A chill went up the back of my neck and then the bomb exploded," he recalls. "As I was in the air I remember thinking, 'I don't believe they got me.' I was just ticked off they were able to do it.
Then I was lying on the road, not able to feel anything from the waist down."

His colleagues cut off his trousers to see how badly he was hurt. None could believe his legs were still there. "My dad's a Vietnam vet who's paralyzed from the waist down," says Sgt Burghardt. "I was lying there thinking I didn't want to be in a wheelchair next to my dad and for him to see me like that. They started to cut away my pants and I felt a real sharp pain and blood trickling down. Then I wiggled my toes and I thought, 'Good, I'm in business.' "As a stretcher was brought over, adrenaline and anger kicked in. "I decided to walk to the helicopter. I wasn't going to let my team-mates see me being carried away on a stretcher." He stood and gave the insurgents who had blown him up a one-fingered salute.
"I flipped them one. It was like, 'OK, I lost that round but I'll be back next week'."

Copies of a photograph depicting his defiance, taken by Jeff Bundy for the Omaha World-Herald,
adorn the walls of homes across America and that of Col John Gronski, the Brigade Commander in Ramadi,
who has hailed the image as an exemplar of the warrior spirit.

Sgt Burghardt's injuries - burns and wounds to his legs and buttocks - kept him off duty for nearly a month and could have earned him a ticket home. But, like his father - who was awarded a Bronze Star and three Purple Hearts for being wounded in action in Vietnam - he stayed in Ramadi to engage in the battle against insurgents
who are forever coming up with more ingenious ways of killing Americans.

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Living in Spin ~ Troops Give It Back to Kerry
Nov. 1, 2006 From the AOL Archives

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