Different day, same old stuff.
I've written this diary so many times, but I don't want to repeat myself. So I do write a new diary every time that I say the same thing, so that people wouldn't accuse me of copying an old diary and reposting it. Here it is.
The wars that we are fighting are the most expensive ever. If you're wondering "where the money goes" wonder no more. I don't have to produce statistics; just go to
http://costofwar.com/
And watch the numbers go up.
Here is how you become a third world country, while not helping the United States and the world cope with its real problems. Here is how America spends money.
And it's not cost effective. Very not cost effective. Here is why:
Basically, the people we're fighting in Afghanistan and Iraq aren't even wearing uniforms. They're wearing their ordinary clothes, they live there, they don't even have tanks, much less any of the fancy stuff that we have, they aren't paying $400 a gallon for gasoline delivered to the front lines, they're making some of their weapons in garages, in people's houses, in someone's backyard. They're just ordinary people. They are farmers, for the most part. For them, the war is cheap, except for the blood.
I Played music at a fund-raising for Afghani fighters against the Russians, back in 81. They were fabulous people, and the older man who led them, a famous Afghani leader, spoke, and I remember his words:
"Afghan blood is rich, it's expensive; help us to raise money for this."
I play classical Indian music; that's another one my roots from the 60s, and Afghanis love that music, which developed parallel to theirs, and which they know well. I've gotten to know a few Afghani people, and without exception they're fabulous.
I like history, and I want to make sure that things are understood, so I'm furnishing a few links.
http://en.wikipedia.org/...
Do you remember that poem about our own war of Independence, that starts
"BY the rude bridge that arched the flood,
Their flag to April's breeze unfurled,
Here once the embattled farmers stood,
And fired the shot heard round the world.
Today the New York Times ran an article:
KABUL, Afghanistan — American and NATO troops firing from passing convoys and military checkpoints have killed 30 Afghans and wounded 80 others since last summer, but in no instance did the victims prove to be a danger to troops, according to military officials in Kabul.
"We have shot an amazing number of people, but to my knowledge, none has ever proven to be a threat," said Gen. Stanley A. McChrystal, who became the senior American and NATO commander in Afghanistan last year. His comments came during a recent videoconference to answer questions from troops in the field about civilian casualties.
A little further on it says
One such case was the death of Mohammed Yonus, a 36-year-old imam and a respected religious authority, who was killed two months ago in eastern Kabul while commuting to a madrasa where he taught 150 students.
A passing military convoy raked his car with bullets, ripping open his chest as his two sons sat in the car. The shooting inflamed residents and turned his neighborhood against the occupation, elders there say.
"The people are tired of all these cruel actions by the foreigners, and we can’t suffer it anymore," said Naqibullah Samim, a village elder from Hodkail, where Mr. Yonus lived. "The people do not have any other choice, they will rise against the government and fight them and the foreigners. There are a lot of cases of killing of innocent people."
You know what we're fighting?
"A Well Regulated Militia..."
Actually, they're not that well regulated, but we're training them. Just like we trained the Vietnamese, who eventually did win their independence, just like those farmers on Bunker Hill.
I'm sorry. I can't take it anymore. It seems like we've gone gun crazy both here at home and in the rest of the world. And I hate it. I hate myself for allowing it. And I feel horrible. As if I've betrayed all of you, and somehow I haven't got it across how sad this is, how much it sucks.
When I got out of the Army in 66 I immediately became a pacifist. I'm still one now, and I'm ashamed that I'm not marching. I'm ashamed that I'm not getting arrested, like some of the people that were around in those days who believed in peace. What happened to us? Well, you can blame it on a lot of people and a lot of things. But somehow, the reality of bullets hitting flesh in my name is something that has to stop. Both here and in the rest of the world.
And sometimes I wonder if someday there'll be a monument in Afghanistan to the farmers who picked up AK's like there's a monument now here in America for our men and women who died in Vietnam.
You want statistics? If you're interested in how many Vietnamese died in the Vietnam war, here's another link
http://en.wikipedia.org/...
I urge you to read those five paragraphs at the beginning; that's a pretty good summation. Especially the part that says
The Case-Church Amendment, passed by the U.S. Congress in response to the anti-war movement, prohibited direct U.S. military involvement without congressional authorization after August 15, 1973.
The antiwar movement. That's where some of my main roots are, ideologically. And now I've gotten very complacent. but as they say, knowledge is power, and I want as many Kossacks as possible to at least know the numbers. The numbers of people who died.
We haven't experienced that lately, here in the United States. I mean war. What people, ordinary people, many of them farmers (there's those pesky farmers again!) are experiencing on their own soil in their own country, just like in Vietnam.
Yes, I admit it. I would like to get this diary on the rec list. Just so that I can be sure that everybody here has read this and knows the numbers. Please, please help me; I desperately would like to know for sure that I've gotten this point across. That, if possible, not one Kossack will miss this, on a day that a man in the Middle East died at the hands of an occupying army.
Thank you.
Update;
Thank the invisible ones who rescue diaries. This means a lot to me.