Yesterday my son in Iraq emailed me the link to the despicable William Arkin’s hateful screed calling our troops mercenaries (and worse) I hadn’t posted about it when it came out because it had me so angry but now it’s getting around to the troops. My son got the link from another officer. That they were not amused is a big understatement. Here is some of the Arkin screed….
So, we pay the soldiers a decent wage, take care of their families, provide them with housing and medical care and vast social support systems and ship obscene amenities into the war zone for them, we support them in every possible way, and their attitude is that we should in addition roll over and play dead, defer to the military and the generals and let them fight their war, and give up our rights and responsibilities to speak up because they are above society?
It’s getting to the point that much of the anti-American, anti-military propaganda that we expect to come from the enemy in this war is actually coming from the rotten couch potato leftists in our own country. NBC calls William Arkin a military analyst? Washington Post still stands by Arkin’s despicable, lying, words but calls it not up to the Post Standards. I would say, at this point, it is typical of the Post standards.
So the Washington Post and NBC News has William Arkin but the New York Times unbelievably has John Burns. Yesterday Hugh Hewitt interviewed John Burns and here is what he had to say about the U.S. military:
But I can speak to you about how we correspondents at the New York Times feel about the American military in Iraq. We have covered the disasters. We’ve covered what happened at Abu Ghraib. We’ve covered what happened at Haditha. But I think I could say this on behalf of all of us who work at the New York Times, and who depends a great deal for our security on American forces, governments…there’s an old saying that countries get the kind of governments they deserve.
Well, I would say that may be true also of the military. And the United States military that we encounter are wonderful. They’re magnificent. They’re extremely brave, that goes without saying. They make an enormous effort to perform a civic as well as military duty in Iraq. They are people of honor, and they’re people of whom America can be proud.
And I say that without…in an unhyphenated, unqualified way, and I hope that that finds its way into the columns of the New York Times, in the way that we report on this war. America has a fine military, a fine Army, a fine Marine Corps and Navy, and whereas we experience, it, and they’re in an extremely difficult situation, what General Casey, the departing commander describes as a very convoluted situation from which there is no certain, safe, successful exit.
Of course, unlike William Arkin, the courageous, John Burns has actually been with the soldiers in Iraq. Michael Yon is embedded with the troops in Iraq and his newest report while riding with the Roughnecks is magnificent and a must read.
Yesterday, on page A13 of the Washington Post there is an article entitled Troops Shared Firm Belief in Iraq Service. They weren’t putting their lives on the line for the money William Arkin.
Hat tip: Michelle Malkin
I was checking my email later today and got a forward from one of the art teachers in our state. We are members of an email group. Normally I don’t even check forwards but since it was a fellow art teacher I did and I am glad I did. It was one of those emails that I used to see in the early days of the war. Many of us have seen the sentiments before but after the weeks of the weasel (Arkin) it seemed fresh and new and oh so true.
If you read this, you WILL forward it on. You won’t be able to stop yourself.
The average age of the military man is 19 years. He is a short haired, tight-muscled kid who, under normal circumstances is considered by society as half man, half boy Not yet dry behind the ears, not old enough to buy a beer, but old enough t o die for his country. He never really cared much for work and he would rather wax his own car than wash his father’s; but he has never collected unemployment either.
He’s a recent High School graduate; he was probably an average student, pursued some form of sport activities, drives a ten year old jalopy, and has a steady girlfriend that either broke up with him when he left, or swears to be waiting when he returns from half a world away.
He listens to rock and roll or hip-hop or rap or jazz or swing and 155mm howitzer. He is 10 or 15 pounds lighter now than when he was at home because he is working or fighting from before dawn to well after dusk.
He has trouble spelling, thus letter writing is a pain for him, but he can field strip a rifle in 30 seconds and reassemble it in less time in the dark.
He can recite to you the nomenclature of a machine gun or grenade launcher and use either one effectively if he must.
He digs foxholes and latrines and can apply first aid like a professional. He can march until he is told to stop or stop until he is told to march.
He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation, but he is not without spirit or individual
dignity. He is self-sufficient.
He has two sets of fatigues: he washes one and wears the other.
He keeps his canteens full and his feet dry.
He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never to clean his rifle.
He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes, and fix his own hurts.
If you’re thirsty, he’ll share his water with you; if you are hungry, his food.
He’ll even split his ammunition with you in the midst of battle when you run low.
He has learned to use his hands like weapons and weapons like they were his hands.
He can save your life - or take it, because that is his job.
He will often do twice the work of a civilian, draw half the pay and still find ironic humor in it all.
He has seen more suffering and death then he should have in his short lifetime.
He has stood atop mountains of dead bodies, and helped to create them.
He has wept in public and in private, for friends who have fallen in combat and is unashamed.
He feels every note of the National Anthem vibrate through his body while at rigid attention,
while tempering the burning desire to ’square-away’ those around him who haven’t bothered to stand, remove their hat, or even stop talking.
In an odd twist, day in and day out, far from home, he defends their right to be disrespectful.
Just as did his Father, Grandfather, and Great-grandfather, he is paying the price for our freedom. Beardless or not, he is not a boy.
He is the American Fighting Man that has kept this country free for over 200 years.
He has asked nothing in return, except our friendship and understanding. Remember him, always, for he has earned our respect and admiration with his blood.
And now we even have women over there in danger, doing their part in this tradition of going to War when our nation calls us to do so.
As you go to bed tonight, remember this shot..
A short lull, a little shade and a picture of loved ones in their helmets
Prayer wheel for our military… please don’t break it. Please send this on after a short prayer.
“Lord, hold our troops in your loving hands. Protect them as they protect us.
Bless them and their families for the selfless acts they perform for us in our time of need. Amen.”
When you receive this, please stop for a moment and say a prayer for our ground troops in Afghanistan, sailors on ships, and airmen in the air, and for those in Iraq.
There is nothing attached…
This can be very powerful…….
Of all the gifts you could give a US Soldier, Sailor, Coastguardsman, Marine or Airman, prayer is the very best one. I can’t break this one, sorry. This is a ribbon for soldiers fighting in Iraq. Pass it on to everyone.
The Arkins of the world, knowing nothing of acts of physical courage, except perhaps the pain of breaking a limb on a ski slope, do seem to hold their manhoods cheap…
The blood shed by our troops for the likes of these lily, livered, leftists might mean nothing to them but those of us who live in constant fear of a call in the night know of the courage it takes for our wonderful men and women to stand on the horizon line of civilization.
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.
Sissy Willis has more on can-do in a non-can-do world.
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