Documente Academic
Documente Profesional
Documente Cultură
So, I had a really bad dream last night. I saw someone die a sudden,
brutal, and violent death. And I’ve seen enough of that in real life; I cer-
tainly don’t need to see it in my dreams, too. Unfortunately, many people
will die sudden, brutal, and violent deaths today. It bothers me that so
many of these deaths are preventable (e.g., accidents), but what really
bothers me—no, angers me—is that so many of these people will die at the
hands of people whose sole intention is to kill them.
I guess this is a personal issue with me, because many people don’t
seem to be bothered by this at all. Perhaps I’m too sensitive?
The town I’m presently living in has a large Army supply depot located
just outside the town’s limits, and a lot of people who live in this town
work there. In fact, the depot is (I think) the largest employer in town. And
it’s been very busy lately . . . ever since the wars began. Before then it was
almost (literally) closed down. I imagine that if the wars ever ended vir-
tually everyone who works there would be out of work. And there’s not
that many places in this town for someone to find work, other than the de-
pot, especially these days.
I suppose this is the real issue we face in trying to end these wars: too
many American’s currently depend on them for their livelihood. I imagine
that if I were ever to protest, locally, the wars, and this (local) depot’s in-
volvement in them, I would quickly become the most reviled person in
town. I don’t protest the wars locally, or the depot’s involvement in them,
(because my immediate family fears retaliation if I do, and I believe that I
should respect their desire not to be involved) and so life, here, goes merri-
ly on, just as the locals here would have it to go on: with most of the
townsfolk busily involved in the task of supplying and resupplying our ser-
vice men and women who (as the locals put it) are “bravely and heroically
fighting for our freedom, over there”.
Because I have spoken out against the wars, locally, in writing, I’ve been
accused (by some of the locals) of being un-American, and, since I’m also a
veteran, I’ve even been told that I am now “a disgrace to the uniform”.
There’s a guy, here in town, who has a pick-up truck with “America:
Love It or Leave It!” painted on his truck’s tailgate. (I suppose every town
in America has a guy with a truck like this though, right?) I first heard the
expression “America: Love It or Leave It!” a very long time ago, during
America’s long war in Vietnam. I was too young to go to Vietnam; the war
was over by the time that I had enlisted (1976), on my seventeenth birth-
day. I’ve had many friends and acquaintances who served in Vietnam,
some of whom enjoyed their time over there (some a bit too much), many
who did not enjoy their time over there, and many who were simply glad
that the war had finally ended and that they had managed to make it back
home, alive.
One of my friends, who served in the Marine Corps, had come back
from Vietnam with a heroin addiction, which he was still dealing with (via
Methadone) some thirty years after the war was over. He also had a se-
rious drinking problem. He told me, once, that he’d been okay, mentally,
until he had been ordered to shell a Vietnamese village which (he and eve-
ryone else knew) housed only innocent civilians. He (they) did, and he was
still suffering the consequences of it some thirty years after the war had
ended.
I’ve been fortunate in that I have never been responsible for anyone’s
death. And for that I thank God, for his grace and for his mercy. As I said,
I’ve seen many people die a sudden, brutal, and violent death. Only one
occurred while I was in the military; all of the others I saw on the highways
of America. I drove a truck for twenty years and, as you can imagine, you
see a lot of death and a lot of destruction when you travel the highways for
many, many years. I actually had to quit driving, because I just couldn’t
take it anymore. I was living in Little Rock, Arkansas at the time and there
was one particular mile-long stretch of Interstate 30, during a period of
one week, on which five people died (suddenly, brutally and violently), in-
cluding a woman and her young child, who ended up beneath a tractor-
trailer after hitting it head-on. I’ll tell you what . . . after all that I’d already
seen during all of those years of driving (especially, by this time, this wom-
an and her young child, underneath that truck), it wasn’t long after that
one particularly gruesome week in Little Rock that I decided to give up
driving (every day, and for a living) for good.
I hope the VA has a good program for PTSD and substance abuse, be-
cause they’re going to need it; for many years to come.
Anyone who is old enough to remember 9/11, and the impact the events
of that day had upon their memory, can certainly imagine the impact the
event of President Kennedy’s assassination must have had upon those who
can remember it—the event is indelibly etched upon the minds of those
people who lived through that experience.
I was very young (almost four years old) when President Kennedy was
assassinated, but I do remember it; like it was yesterday.
Until now (and I am now fifty years old) I never really understood the
full meaning of that day, and of that event.
It would seem that the militaristic hawks have a thing for guns, doesn’t
it? As well as for gunning-down those leaders—true leaders— who dare to
cross them; and who attempt to foil their bloody, warmongering agenda.
Well I, for one, have no respect for these militaristic hawks—whose leg-
acies remain in power today. Nor will I ever be afraid to stick my neck out
(or my head) in order to thwart their ungodly, murderous agenda and to
take a stand for life, peace, and humanity. As I said before, I’m not a pacif-
ist—I believe in self defense—but there has never been a good reason (i.e.,
a just reason) for Americans to have gone to war at anytime during the
past fifty years; including (especially) the events of 9/11, which is the rea-
son (excuse) that’s always given for the on-going carnage in Iraq, Afgha-
nistan, and now Pakistan.
Question: Who do you think had the most to gain from the events of
9/11? The American people, perhaps? Or maybe the enlisted members of
the US armed services? Or perhaps it was the Iraqi, Afghani, and Pakistani
peoples? Perhaps—in reality—it was the militaristic hawks, at it again, be-
ginning a new (21st century) era of fear and warmongering; those who oc-
cupy high-level positions within the US military and the various US secret
intelligence agencies? (Not to mention certain civilian “leaders”, like for-
mer (chicken-hawk) Vice President Richard Cheney.) Perhaps they felt the
need, as these militarist hawks so often do, to dominate “the enemy”; as
opposed to pursuing a course of peace? Granted, it’s much easier, I sup-
pose, to see “the enemy”—especially when your desire is to kill him—as an
inanimate object, as opposed to seeing him as a fellow human being. But
this militaristic approach doesn’t—in reality—remove from “the enemy”
his humanity, does it?
Could it be? Could it be that all of those people, in the town that I now
live in—all of those people who work at that Army depot—are actually sup-
porting the same, insidious, murderous military-industrial militaristic
hawk-complex that’s truly responsible for assassinating President John F.
Kennedy, the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and Robert F. Kennedy?
The same military-industrial militarist hawk-complex that’s responsible
for killing thousands of people in Vietnam, thousands of people on 9/11,
thousands of people in Afghanistan, thousands of people in Iraq, and who,
today, are intent on killing millions more, via nuclear weapons, in a fool-
hardy attempt to initiate, in the Middle East, (in league with Israel against
“our enemies” Iran and its allies: Russia and China) a new and third World
War? And all the while, the best thing that the majority of the American
people seem to be able to say is: “America: Love It or Leave It!”?
But I suppose these people do need their jobs; right? I know they have
bills to pay, kids to feed, and (many) trips to Wal-Mart to make. I know
they need to work; who doesn’t? But is being involved with killing people—
people who have done us no harm whatsoever—the only (or even the best)
job that we can do? Do we not have a conscience? A human conscience,
which tells us when we are doing something wrong? Are we so brain-
washed—yes: brainwashed—that we believe, unthinkingly, all of the lies
that our government has told us concerning these wars and the events of
9/11?
I’m on my knees, begging you. Seek life, seek peace, and seek humanity.
You’re breaking my heart . . . and I really don’t have much of a heart left
to break.