Sunday, May 18, 2014

President Obama, Pardon Pvt. Manning

Because the public deserves the truth and whistle-blowers deserve protection.

We are military veterans, journalists, educators, homemakers, lawyers, students, and citizens.

We ask you to consider the facts and free US Army Pvt. Chelsea (formerly Bradley) Manning.

As an Intelligence Analyst stationed in Iraq, Pvt. Manning had access to some of America’s dirtiest secrets—crimes such as torture, illegal surveillance, and corruption—often committed in our name.

Manning acted on conscience alone, with selfless courage and conviction, and gave these secrets to us, the public.

“I believed that if the general public had access to the information contained within the[Iraq and Afghan War Logs] this could spark a domestic debate on the role of the military and our foreign policy,”

Manning explained to the military court. “I wanted the American public to know that not everyone in Iraq and Afghanistan were targets that needed to be neutralized, but rather people who were struggling to live in the pressure cooker environment of what we call asymmetric warfare.”

Journalists used these documents to uncover many startling truths. We learned:

Donald Rumsfeld and General Petraeus helped support torture in Iraq.

Deliberate civilian killings by U.S. forces in Iraq and Afghanistan went unpunished.

Thousands of civilian casualties were never acknowledged publicly.

Most Guantanamo detainees were innocent.

For service on behalf of an informed democracy, Manning was sentenced by military judge Colonel Denise Lind to a devastating 35 years in prison.

Government secrecy has grown exponentially during the past decade, but more secrecy does not make us safer when it fosters unaccountability.

Pvt. Manning was convicted of Espionage Act charges for providing WikiLeaks with this information, but  the prosecutors noted that they would have done the same had the information been given to The New York Times. Prosecutors did not show that enemies used this information against the US, or that the releases resulted in any casualties.

Pvt. Manning has already been punished, even in violation of military law.

She has been:

Held in confinement since May 29, 2010.

• Subjected to illegal punishment amounting to torture for nearly nine months at Quantico Marine Base, Virginia, in violation of the Uniform Code of Military Justice (UCMJ), Article 13—facts confirmed by both the United Nation’s lead investigator on torture and military judge Col. Lind.

Denied a speedy trial in violation of UCMJ, Article 10, having been imprisoned for over three years before trial.

• Denied anything resembling a fair trial when prosecutors were allowed to change the charge sheet to match evidence presented, and enter new evidence, after closing arguments.
Pvt. Manning believed you, Mr. President, when you came into office promising the most transparent administration in history, and that you would protect whistle-blowers. We urge you to start upholding those promises, beginning with this American prisoner of conscience.
We urge you to grant Pvt. Manning’s petition for a Presidential Pardon.
FIRST& LAST NAME _____________________________________________________________
STREET ADDRESS _____________________________________________________________

CITY, STATE & ZIP _____________________________________________________________
EMAIL& PHONE _____________________________________________________________
Please return to: For more information: www.privatemanning.org
Private Manning Support Network, c/o Courage to Resist, 484 Lake Park Ave #41, Oakland CA 94610

 

Note that this image is PVT Manning's preferred photo.


Note that this image is PVT Manning’s preferred photo.

Four Ways To Support Freedom For Chelsea Manning- President Obama Pardon Chelsea Manning Now!
 
 
 
 
 
 Note that this image is PVT Manning's preferred photo.
 
Note that this image is PVT Manning’s preferred photo.
The Struggle Continues …
Four  Ways To Support Heroic Wikileaks Whistle-Blower Chelsea  Manning
*Sign the public petition to President Obama – Sign online http://www.amnesty.org/en/appeals-for-action/chelseamanning  “President Obama, Pardon Pvt. Manning,” and make copies to share with friends and family!
You  can also call (Comments”202-456-1111), write The White House, 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue NW, Washington, DC 20500, e-mail-(http://www.whitehouse.gov’contact/submitquestions-and comments) to demand that President Obama use his constitutional power under Article II, Section II to pardon Private Manning now.
*Start a stand -out, weekly, bi-weekly, monthly, in your town square to publicize the pardon and clemency campaigns.  Contact the Private Manning SupportNetwork for help with materials and organizing tips http://www.bradleymanning.org/
*Contribute to the Private  Manning Defense Fund- now that the trial has finished funds are urgently needed for pardon campaign and for future military and civilian court appeals. The hard fact of the American legal system, military of civilian, is the more funds available the better the defense, especially in political prisoner cases like Private Manning’s. The government had unlimited financial and personnel resources to prosecute Private Manning at trial. And used them as it will on any future legal proceedings. So help out with whatever you can spare. For link go to http://www.bradleymanning.org/
*Write letters of solidarity to Private Manning while she is serving her sentence. She wishes to be addressed as Chelsea and have feminine pronouns used when referring to her. Private Manning’s mailing address: Bradley E. Manning, 89289, 1300 N. Warehouse Road, Fort Leavenworth, Kansas 66027-2304. You must use Bradley on the address envelope.
Private Manning cannot receive stamps or money in any form. Photos must be on copy paper. Along with “contraband,” “inflammatory material” is not allowed. Six page maximum.
*Call: (913) 758-3600-Write to:Col. Sioban Ledwith, Commander U.S. Detention Barracks 1301 N Warehouse Rd
Ft. Leavenworth KS 66027-Tell them: “Transgender rights are human rights! Respect Private Manning’s identity by acknowledging the name ‘Chelsea Manning’ whenever possible, including in mail addressed to her, and by allowing her access to appropriate medical treatment for gender dysphoria, including hormone replacement therapy (HRT).” (for more details-http://markinbookreview.blogspot.com/2013/11/respecting-chelseas-identity-is-this.html#!/2013/11/respecting-chelseas-identity-is-this.html


Send The Following Message (Or Write Your Own) To The President In Support Of A Pardon For Private Manning

To: President Barack Obama
White House
1600 Pennsylvania Avenue
Washington, D.C. 20500

The draconian 35 years sentence handed down by a military judge, Colonel Lind, on August 21, 2013 to Private Manning (Chelsea formerly known as Bradley) has outraged many citizens including me.

Under Article II, Section II of the U.S. Constitution the President of the United States had the authority to grant pardons to those who fall under federal jurisdiction.
Some of the reasons for my request include: 

*that Private Manning  was held for nearly a year in abusive solitary confinement at the Marine base at Quantico, Virginia, which the UN rapporteur in his findings has called “cruel, inhuman, and degrading”

*that the media had been continually blocked from transcripts and documents related to the trial and that it has only been through the efforts of Private Manning’s supporters that any transcripts exist.

*that under the UCMJ a soldier has the right to a speedy trial and that it was unconscionable and unconstitutional to wait 3 years before starting the court martial.

*that absolutely no one was harmed by the release of documents that exposed war crimes, unnecessary secrecy and disturbing foreign policy.

*that Private Manning is a hero who did the right thing when she revealed truth about wars that had been based on lies.

I urge you to use your authority under the Constitution to right the wrongs done to Private Manning – Enough is enough!

Signature ___________________________________________________________

Print Name __________________________________________________________

Address_____________________________________________________________

City / Town/State/Zip Code_________________________________________

Note that this image is PVT Manning's preferred photo.



Note that this image is PVT Manning’s preferred photo.


*** Of This And That In The Old 1960s North Adamsville Neighborhood-Those Pale Blue Eyes, Revisited 

 
A YouTube film clip to set the mood for this sketch.
From The Pen Of Frank Jackman

Not all adventures in social networking lead to good results and happy endings, although don’t blame the Internet or the fact of the Internet as a communication tool for bringing people together on that. People, men and women in serious and unserious relationships, have been screwing them up without that technological help ever since Adam and Eve, maybe before, so back off. I have a story to tell about how the Internet brought two fellow classmates from the North Adamsville Class of 1964, Sam Lowell and Melinda Loring, together, how they started out a relationship sparked by the Internet but were able to mess things up as if that instrumentality never existed. Needless to say the pair are no longer together after a short stormy affair, although they both have admitted to me individually that they still believed that it was written in the stars that they belonged together. But that good hope sentiment sometimes doesn’t mean a thing if the couple can’t abide each other’s presence, couldn’t seem to connect the dots. Such situations happen more than one might think so let’s look at how things unfolded and how I got wind of what went down.         

Despite the sad story of Sam and Melinda I have spent not a little time lately touting the virtues of the Internet in allowing me and the members of the North Adamsville Class of 1964, or what is left of it, the remnant that has survived and is findable with the new technologies (some will never be found by choice or by being excluded from the “information super-highway” that they have not been able to navigate), to communicate with each other some fifty years and many miles later on a class website recently set up to gather in classmates for our 50th anniversary reunion. I had noted in earlier sketches my own successes with this website in being able to tout a guy whose photos of my old childhood neighborhood send me spinning down memory lane, another about an old corner boy and our Adventure car hop misadventures looking for the heart of Saturday night, writing a tribute to our classmates fallen in Vietnam, and in answering a perplexing question about what I saw as my role as a commentator on the site. I admit I had to marvel at some of the communications technology that makes our work a lot easier than back in the day. The Internet was only maybe a dream, a mad monk scientist far-fetched science fiction dream then as we struggle with three by five cards and archaic Dewey Decimal systems.

I also admitted in one of those sketches that for most of these fifty years since graduation I had studiously avoided returning to the old town for any past class reunions but this one I had wanted to attend, the reasons which not need detain us here. Or I should say rather wanted to attend once the reunion committee was able to track me down and invite me to attend. Or a better “rather” to join a NA64.com website run by a wizard webmaster, Donna, who was also our class Vice-President to keep up to date on progress for that reunion.

Part of the reason I did join the class site was to keep informed about upcoming events but also as is my wont to make commentary about various aspects of the old hometown, the high school then, and any other tidbit that my esteemed fellow classmates might want to ponder after all these years. All this made simple as pie by the act of joining. Once logged in one is provided with a personal profile page complete with space for private e-mails, story-telling, various vital statistics like kids and grandkids, and space for the billion photos of that progeny, mostly it seems for those darling grandkids that seem to pop up everywhere.  Additionally, there is a section, a general comment section, the “Message Forum” page, where one and all can place material they think of general interest to the class as a whole. I have used that page more than once over the past several months.  

A while back, a few months ago now, I went on to the class website to check out a new addition to the list of those who had joined the site recently. We can use our personal settings to be informed of that kind of information on a more or less frequent basis. The guy who had just joined was a guy I did not know but I had seen around the school and so I was ready to click off the site (by the way  you would have seen almost everybody in the four years you were there with one thing or another even though the class had baby-boomer times over 500 students). Then I noticed that Sam Lowell  had placed a comment in the “Message Forum” section about Melinda Loring and how she had recently as a result of slipping in an indoor swimming pool up in Epping, New Hampshire,  while exercising had broken her right hip requiring surgery. We were asked to send Melinda best wishes message for a speedy recovery on her profile page.

Now I knew Sam Lowell from high school, had been a teammate of his on the indoor and outdoor track teams, and had hung around with him most of junior and senior years. I had, when Sam joined the website in November of 2013 shortly I had, sent him some private e-mails and we had maintained an exchange of messages about the old days and about what had been happening since then. I had not heard from him or seen anything listed about him for a few months before his Melinda announcement. I do not remember him knowing Melinda Loring back in school although we both knew who she was. I remember that we had both commented at one time back then that she was a  definite “fox” in the language of the hormonal schoolboy 1960s night  but “unapproachable” to ragamuffin boys like us. Sam had not mentioned being in touch with her on the site in any of our communications, and I knew that he lived in Holden here in Massachusetts and that Melinda listed her home town as up near the White Mountains in New Hampshire. Most importantly I knew that Sam had been married to the same woman, Laura, for about thirty-five years. So I sent him a private e-mail message asking “what gives with Melinda?” and how he came to be the guy who placed a notice about her condition on the “Message Forum” page. In return he asked for my Internet e-mail because he wanted to explain some things without going on the site. I knew something was up.

I also got more, much more, than I bargained for so hear me out. It seems that Sam was really gung-ho about going to and being a part of this 50th anniversary class reunion. He had gone to many of previous ones at 5, 10, 25, and 40 years but last fall he had not heard anything about planning for a 50th reunion so he, like many of our generation who are the least bit Internet savvy these days, created an event page on Facebook looking for interested classmates and asking whether any plans were afoot. Melinda subsequently sent him a message on that event page asking what he knew of the doings. Sam sent her back a message about what little he knew and that he was prepared to organize something if nothing was in the works but forgot to give his name. She replied “who are you?” And that was their start. They exchanged a blizzard (Sam’s word) of e-mails over the next several day telling each other about what they had been up to over the last 50 years. Melinda had been a professor of education at various colleges, most recently at the University of New Hampshire and was still plodding away at that profession. Sam had been many things over the years, including teaching, but was at this time a lawyer working mainly out of his house on appeals cases. During this time Sam, through a separate source found out that there was already a class website in existence, informed Melinda, and they both joined the site over the next few days.       

Somehow this blizzard of e-mails morphed into some insipid cyberspace kindred spirit torch-bearing. Something was driving them forward. Eventually the e-mail system became too slow for their eight million questions for each and their attraction to each other so the ubiquitous cellphone became their mode of communication. Well the long and short of it was that after a blizzard of calls they arranged to meet for dinner in Lowell and discuss things. Melinda, twice married but now single and available asked Sam about his marital status during their exchanges. Sam kind of, no, he definitely fudged on that saying he was “separated” from Laura in order to see what way the winds were blowing with Melinda. Melinda accepted that explanation at face value, then. They met. They met and some spark was lit right from the first, hands touching and smiles glowing immediately. Maybe it was that they had gone to the same high school together, maybe it was the same tough growing up poor and hungry profiles which they exchanged, maybe it was the six million things they had in common like an interest Russian literature and history, maybe it was their connection in the education field, and maybe knowing Sam it was Melinda’s pale blue eyes but a spark was lit. They agreed that after fifty years of “missing” each other they had to play the thing out.

And so they did meeting for dinner many times, going to Washington together for a few days, and fatally winding up at Melinda’s house in New Hampshire one night, one cold night, one night when the wine flowed and, well, you can figure it out. But for Sam, almost from the start there was always that nagging lie about his relationship with Laura (and also the need to lie to her about his whereabouts on many occasions whenhe was with Melinda) which as time went on he began to kind of half tell Melinda about.

Needless to say Melinda, a woman according to Sam, who was serially monogamous and sought exclusive possession of her men became furious about Sam’s real relationship with Laura. As Sam gave more details to Melinda while both developed strong feeling of affection for each other Melinda more and more pressed the issue of Sam’s fully leaving Laura. He would hedge, saying he needed more time. Then Melinda’s pool accident and subsequent surgery occurred and hence the notice provided by him on the site.

That is where I entered the picture and contacted Sam. But as I learned from Sam later as thing unwound this recovery time was also a time when Sam, who would go up to New Hampshire frequently (telling Laura he was helping out an old classmate), to help Melinda out around her house, take her to appointments and get her out of the home felt more like a care-giver than a lover. He made what became the fatal mistake of telling Melinda that change in feelings and she because furious despite her condition. See Sam also told me he was getting cold feet about his future with Melinda who was talking more and more about them living together. Shortly after Melinda had recovered enough to be able to drive on her own they agreed to meet one night for dinner in Newburyport and discuss where they were going. That night the sparks flew, there were acrimonious arguments, and finally Sam walked out furious at some of the things Melinda said. That was the last they saw of each other in person although there were a few bitter e-mails and cellphone calls before Melinda closed the curtain[CL1] [CL2]  down on the affair. So there is the story, the sad story and no happy ending.              

 I will finish up this tale by posting the e-mail that I sent Melinda after Sam posted his message about her condition (and after he had told me the details of their relationship but before I learned of their split). See, after seeing her class yearbook photograph, seeing some photos of her taken recently, hearing Sam’s story of their affair, I decided that maybe I should make myself known, known as an old-time admirer. And as a guy with no strings attached. Here goes:                          

 

“Melinda –I hope that this note finds you convalescing quickly from your recent hip surgery. I also hope that your cats, Mickie, Ell, Queenie, and Jinx that you have placed pictures of on your profile page comfort to you at this time.  I too am a cat-lover who has just lost a cat, Willie Boy, who was my shadow around the house and is now buried in the back yard. I will have his spirit watching out for you too.

I know several years ago when I had my knee replacement and was laid up for weeks and house-bound I appreciated getting notes and messages to see me through. I thought I would tell you a little “secret” story from our high school days that might cheer you up.

In the spring of our junior year I had something of a “crush” on you. From a distance for sure since I did not know you, did not have any classes with you, or anything like that but had only seen you around the school in the corridors and such so I was not sure how I would approach you. Moreover I was pretty shy then and kind of bedraggled, a ragamuffin, so I was very hesitant to make my “move” since you were such a college-bound looking girl with your cashmere sweaters and frilly skirts.

As you might know if you looked at my profile photos I was on the track team although you may not have known there was even such a team at school. In the pring of 1963 after school in the boys’ locker room I heard a couple of guys from the team mention your name and how “hot” you were (not that word then I don’t think but you know what I mean). I used that opening as a way to get some “grapevine” intelligence about whether you had a boyfriend or something. So I asked them. Both their replies were basically “forget it, she is unapproachable.” Naturally given everything I just said I backed off and moved on to the next possibility as young guys did then (maybe now too). I wonder now seeing your photos what would have happened had I been braver then. I hope you like the story and it makes you feel better.

 

BTW when I read your comment on Dave Meagher’s “In Memory” page I noticed that you had gone to the junior prom with him. [Dave had fallen in Vietnam in 1968, one of two such classmates.] Who did you go to the senior prom with? Some college guy?

 I also noticed that you have a photo on your profile page with roses (probably for Valentine’s Day) in your arms looking very nice. I suppose you have a special guy to help take care of you up there in New Hampshire. Now don’t take this the wrong way, I am not trying to “hit” on you but I could come up sometime while you are house-bound and we could talk about the old times. I hope you do not think I am too forward. Later Frank Jackman "        

From The Marxist Archives -The Revolutionary History Journal-Disaffection and Dissent in the British Armed Forces
 


Click below to link to the Revolutionary History Journal index.

http://www.marxists.org/history/etol/revhist/backissu.htm


Peter Paul Markin comment on this series:

This is an excellent documentary source for today’s leftist militants to “discover” the work of our forebears, particularly the bewildering myriad of tendencies which have historically flown under the flag of the great Russian revolutionary, Leon Trotsky and his Fourth International, whether one agrees with their programs or not. But also other laborite, semi-anarchist, ant-Stalinist and just plain garden-variety old school social democrat groupings and individual pro-socialist proponents.

Some, maybe most of the material presented here, cast as weak-kneed programs for struggle in many cases tend to be anti-Leninist as screened through the Stalinist monstrosities and/or support groups and individuals who have no intention of making a revolution. Or in the case of examining past revolutionary efforts either declare that no revolutionary possibilities existed (most notably Germany in 1923) or alibi, there is no other word for it, those who failed to make a revolution when it was possible.

The Spanish Civil War can serve as something of litmus test for this latter proposition, most infamously around attitudes toward the Party Of Marxist Unification's (POUM) role in not keeping step with revolutionary developments there, especially the Barcelona days in 1937 and by acting as political lawyers for every non-revolutionary impulse of those forebears. While we all honor the memory of the POUM militants, according to even Trotsky the most honest band of militants in Spain then, and decry the murder of their leader, Andreas Nin, by the bloody Stalinists they were rudderless in the storm of revolution. But those present political disagreements do not negate the value of researching the POUM’s (and others) work, work moreover done under the pressure of revolutionary times. Hopefully we will do better when our time comes.

Finally, I place some material in this space which may be of interest to the radical public that I do not necessarily agree with or support. Off hand, as I have mentioned before, I think it would be easier, infinitely easier, to fight for the socialist revolution straight up than some of the “remedies” provided by the commentators in these entries from the Revolutionary History journal in which they have post hoc attempted to rehabilitate some pretty hoary politics and politicians, most notably August Thalheimer and Paul Levy of the early post Liebknecht-Luxemburg German Communist Party. But part of that struggle for the socialist revolution is to sort out the “real” stuff from the fluff as we struggle for that more just world that animates our efforts. So read, learn, and try to figure out the
wheat from the chaff. 

******** 

IV: Disaffection and Dissent in the British Armed Forces



The first two pieces in this section consider mutinies amongst the armed forces in colonial possessions around the time of the First World War. Julian Putkowski has been analysing material associated with discipline and dissent in the British and Imperial Armies since the 1970s. We are grateful to him for allowing us to publish documents that shed light on the situation of the military in the British colonies. We begin with the transcript of negotiations at Simla in 1919 between delegates representing around 20,000 British army mutineers and the Indian Army General Staff. This mutiny has passed largely unremarked, apart from Julian Putkowski’s analysis in his British Army Mutineers. We preface extracts from the transcript of negotiations with an introductory essay that places the event in context.
Julian Putkowski has published widely in the area of mutinies and dissent, and he has also been a consultant and researcher for museums and the media. Here is a partial bibliography of relevant work.
Books: Shot at Dawn (with Julian Sykes), Pen and Sword Books, 1989; British Army Mutineers 1914–1922, Francis Boutle Publishers, 1998; Unquiet Graves: Guide (with Piet Chielens), Francis Boutle Publishers, 2000; Unquiet Graves (with Piet Chielens), Francis Boutle Publishers, 2000; British Army Officers’ Courts Martial: 1914–1924 (with Gerry Oram), Francis Boutle Publishers, 2000; Military Criminals (with Mark Herber), Francis Boutle Publishers, 2001.
Articles: Percy Toplis and the Etaples Mutiny, Stand To!, no. 18, Autumn 1986; Postscript on PMS2, Intelligence and National Security, Spring 1987; The Kinmel Park Camp Riots, 1919, Flintshire Historical Society Journal, 1989; Pardon Ruled Out: The Case of Harry Farr, Gunfire, no. 27, 1993; A2 and the “Reds in Khaki”, Lobster, no. 27, April 1994; “The Best Secret Serviceman We Had”: Jack Byrnes, A2 and the IRA, Lobster, no. 28, February 1995; “Those Nasty Crawling Things”: A2 and the Labour Movement, Part 1, Lobster, no. 29, August 1995; “Those Nasty Crawling Things”: A2 and the Labour Movement, Part 2, Lobster, no. 30, February 1996; Le Camp Brittanique d’Etaples 1914–1918 (with Douglas Gill), Musée Quentovic, Etaples 1997; Les cours martiales britannique et la campagne de rehabilitation des fusilles, La Grande Guerre, no. 24, Summer 1999; Le destin d’un trainard. La condemantion a mort du soldat Thomas Highgate, 6 Septembre 1914, La Grande Guerre, no. 26, Spring 2000; British Army Executions in the Ypres Salient During the First World War, Proceedings of the Unquiet Graves Conference 2000, In Flanders Fields Museum, November 2000.
First World War Mutinies in the Media: The Monocled Mutineer, a BBC television series screened in the autumn of 1986. Julian Putkowski was an advisor for this historical drama. He was also consulted for the following: Mutiny at Kinmel Park, Granada, news feature, 1978; Going Home, OPIX/BBCTV historical drama feature, 1987; Killing Ground, CBC historical documentary feature, 1988; Ballot on the Battlefield, TVSW historical documentary feature, 1992; Rifleman Jimmy Crozier, BBC Radio Northern Ireland, historical documentary feature, 1992; In the Firing Line, BBC Northern Ireland, historical documentary feature, 1992; Men in Battle, Barraclough Carey, documentary series, 1992; Texts in Time, BBCTV Education, historical documentary series, 1992–93; It Is With Very Great Regret, BBC Radio 4, historical documentary feature, 1993; Shot at Dawn, Dreamscape/BBCTV, historical documentary feature, 1993; WW1 Executions, BBC Radio/Wales Tonight, news feature, 1993; People’s Century, Barraclough Carey, historical documentary series, 1994; Wartime Evacuees, Starry Night Productions/CBC, historical documentary feature, 1994; The Quiet Man, BBC Radio 4, historical documentary feature, 1995; They Wrote Diaries, BBC Radio 4, historical documentary feature, 1997; Shot At Dawn, BBCTV Wales, documentary feature, 4 November 1997; Battle for the Mind, Blakeway Productions/Channel 4 TV, First World War documentary feature, 8 November 1998; Shot at Dawn, Carlton, First World War historical documentary feature, 8 November 1998; Mutiny, Illuminations/Sweet Patootee/Channel 4 TV, First World War documentary feature, 10 October 1999; The Kinmel Park Mutiny, Andy Brice Productions/CBC, First World War documentary feature, December 2000; The Singapore Mutiny 1915, Sweet Patootee, September–October 2000.
Annotated Bibliography of Mutinies: Julian Putkowski has kindly provided an annotated bibliography of books written in English that are commonly cited sources of information about mutinies which have occurred in the British Army during the past hundred years.
  • P. Adam-Smith, The Anzacs: The True Story of the Young Men Who Went to Gallipoli, Thomas Nelson, Melbourne 1978, a nostalgic nationalist perspective, includes brief account of September 1918 mutiny by ANZAC troops.
  • William Allison and John Fairley, The Monocled Mutineer, Quartet Books, London 1978, an overblown account of the 1917 Etaples Mutiny and biography of a rapist, thief and murderer.
  • T. Ashworth, Trench Warfare 1914–1918: The Live and Let Live System, Macmillan, London 1980, a scholarly analysis of trench warfare focussing on non-aggression, fraternisation and the ‘quiet front’.
  • Anthony Babington, The Devil to Pay: The Mutiny of the Connaught Rangers, India, July 1921, Leo Cooper, London 1991, a comprehensive account of the mutiny in 1920 of the Connaught Rangers at Jullunder in the Punjab on hearing of the execution of the leaders of the 1916 Easter Uprising, but generally unsympathetic to the mutineers.
  • A. Baxter, We Will Not Cease, Victor Gollancz, London 1939, an autobiography of an NZ ‘conchie’, details army punishments in France and Flanders during the First World War.
  • I.F.W. Beckett (ed.), The Army and the Curragh Incident 1914, Army Historical Society, London 1986, a collection of primary documents relating to mutinous subversion by officers.
  • D. Birmingham, et al. (eds.), World War 1 and Africa, Journal of African History, Volume 21, no. 1, 1978, scholarly essays, some referring to mutinous action by African soldiers and military labourers.
  • N. Boyack, Behind the Lines: The Lives of New Zealand Soldiers in the First World War, Allen and Unwin, Wellington 1989, a critical account of NZ troops, includes references to mutinies and ill-discipline, fully referenced.
  • R. Boyes, In Glass Houses: A History of the Military Provost Staff Corps, Military Provost Staff Corps Association, Colchester 1988, ill-written, poorly edited and over-defensive, but useful for references to revolts by military prisoners.
  • M. Brown and S. Seaton, The Christmas Truce: The Western Front, December 1914, Leo Cooper, London 1984, 1994, empiricist, explicitly rejects Marxist interpretations, but good narratives and well referenced.
  • S. Brugger, Australians and Egypt 1914–1919, Melbourne University Press, Carlton 1980, includes references to ‘Wazza’ pogroms, good bibliography.
  • C. Corns and John Hughes Wilson, British Military Executions in the Great War, Cassell, London 2001, includes chapter on mutinies, makes use of material in Putkowski, 1998, to advance a conservative view of military dissent; politically reactionary, unoriginal, sloppy annotation, shoddy index.
  • Dallas Gloden and Douglas Gill, The Unknown Army: Mutinies in the British Army in World War 1, Verso, London 1985, a scholarly political appraisal, sympathetic to mutineers, well referenced, good bibliography.
  • David Duncan, Mutiny in the RAF: The Air Force Strikes of 1946, Socialist History Society, Occasional Papers Series: No. 8 (also available online: http://www.uea.ac.uk/~v655/shs/duncancontents.htm), 1998, brief, stimulating accounts by one of the Drigh Road RAF mutineers.
  • K.D. Ewing and C.A. Gearty, The Struggle for Civil Liberties: Political Freedom and the Rule of Law in Britain 1914–1945, OUP, Oxford 2000, a scholarly work that includes prosecution of the CPGB for incitement to mutiny.
  • J. Fergusson, The Curragh Incident, Faber and Faber, London, 1964, the officers’ mutiny.
  • J.G. Fuller, Troop Morale and Popular Culture in the British and Dominion Armies 1914–1918, OUP, Oxford, 1991, concerns sport and leisure, refers to officers, ill-merited self-esteem, mutinies viewed as insignificant.
  • B. Gammage, The Broken Years: Australian Soldiers in the Great War, ANUP, Canberra 1974, refers to the 1915 anti-Egyptian pogroms and September 1918 mutinies.
  • D. Gill and Julian Putkowski, The British Base Camp at Etaples 1914–1918, Musée Quentovic, Etaples sur Mer, 1997, includes a brief account of the 1917 mutiny, dismisses the ‘Monocled Mutineer’ thesis.
  • B. Glenton, Mutiny in Force X, Hodder and Stoughton, London 1988, Second World War.
  • F. Grundlingh, Fighting Their Own War: South African Blacks and the First World War, Ravan Press, Johannesburg 1987, makes reference to mutinies by the black military labourers of the South African Labour Contingent.
  • R.W.E. Harper and H. Miller, Singapore Mutiny, OUP, Singapore 1984, recounts February 1915 mutiny by sepoys of Fifth Battalion Light Infantry, but generally discounts the political significance of the outbreak.
  • L. James, Mutiny: In the British and Commonwealth Forces 1797–1956, Buchan and Enright, London 1987, mostly about post-1914 period, many useful references but a whiggish interpretation of mutiny.
  • Walter Kendall, The Revolutionary Movement in Britain 1900–21: The Origins of British Communism, Weidenfeld and Nicolson, London 1969, anti-CPGB, anti-Comintern, contains brief references to the 1919 demobilisation crisis.
  • T.P. Kilfeather, The Connaught Rangers, Anvil, Dublin 1969, a journalist presents a sympathetic account of 1921 protest, no references or bibliography.
  • A. Killick, Mutiny!, Spark, Brighton 1968, reprinted 1976 by Militant, an autobiographical account by a participant in the 1919 Calais mutiny.
  • R. Kisch, The Days of the Good Soldiers, Journeyman Press, London 1985, a survey of CPGB members involvement in Second World War mutinies and protests.
  • David Lamb, Mutinies 1917–1920, Solidarity, London 1979, a libertarian left appraisal of mutinies as political, exaggerates the mutineers’ impact.
  • P. Liddle (ed.), Passchendaele in Perspective: The Third Battle of Ypres, Pen and Sword, Barnsley 1997, a chapter by P. Scott on law and order ascribes low level of dissent to deferential attitude of Tommies.
  • S.P. Mackenzie, Politics and Military Morale: Current Affairs and Citizenship Education in the British Army 1914–1950, OUP, Oxford 1992, references to Etaples 1917, April 1918 Soldiers’ and Workers’ Council, and Cairo 1944.
  • D. Omissi, The Sepoy and the Raj: The Indian Army 1860–1940, Macmillan, London 1994, devotes a chapter to mutinies by the sepoys of the Army of India, good bibliography.
  • R.J. Popplewell, Intelligence and Imperial Defence: British Intelligence and the Defence of India 1904–1924, Cass, London, 1995, refers to ‘Ghadr’-inspired mutinies in Army of India during 1914–15, excellent references.
  • S. Pollock, Mutiny for the Cause, Leo Cooper, London 1969, a journalistic hagiography of the 1920 Connaught Rangers mutiny.
  • D.N. Pritt, The Autobiography of D.N. Pritt, Part 2: Brasshats and Bureaucrats, Lawrence and Wishart, London, 1962, Labour MP and soldiers’ advocate (and inveterate Stalinist), active defending mutineers during 1944–45.
  • C. Pugsley, Gallipoli: The New Zealand Story, Hodder and Stoughton, Auckland 1984, describes the ‘Battle of Wazzir’, an anti-Egyptian pogrom due to NZ troops’ ‘pent-up frustration’, see also Boyack.
  • C. Pugsley, On the Fringe of Hell: New Zealanders and Military Discipline in the First World War, Hodder and Stoughton, Auckland 1991, nostalgic nationalism, refers to several mutinies, including December 1918 Surafend anti-Arab pogrom (‘cannot be condoned but can be understood’), contrast with Boyack.
  • Julian Putkowski, The Kinmel Park Camp Riots 1919, Flintshire Historical Society, Hawarden 1989, 2001, the Canadian Army mutiny in Wales, see also D. Morton Kicking and Complaining, Canadian Historical Review, no. 61, September 1980.
  • Julian Putkowski, British Army Mutineers 1914–1922, Francis Boutle, London 1998, relates stories of four mutinies and records details of all men charged with mutiny.
  • A.P. Ryan, Mutiny at the Curragh, Macmillan, London 1956, a narrative account of officers’ mutiny.
  • T.R. Sareen, Secret Documents on the Singapore Mutiny, 1915, two volumes, Mounto, New Delhi, 1995, includes Court of Enquiry papers and other items associated with the outbreak.
  • David Saul, Mutiny at Salerno: An Injustice Exposed, Brassey’s, London 1995, a fluently written, comprehensive account of September 1943 mutiny and trial.
  • G. Sheffield, The Redcaps: A History of the Military Police and its Antecedents from the Middle Ages to the Gulf War, Brassey’s, London 1994, an official history, only Etaples 1917 outbreak cited, but useful references to battlefield ‘stragglers’.
  • G. Sheffield, Leadership in the Trenches: Officer–Man Relations, Morale and Discipline in the British Army in the Era of the First World War, Macmillan, London 2000, refers to several mutinies but eschews ideology and opts to maintain a ‘Soldiers’ deference + Officers’ paternalism = good officer–man relations’ line, excellent bibliography.
  • M. Summerskill, China on the Western Front: Britain’s Chinese Workforce in the First World War, Summerskill, London 1982, includes references to mutinies by Chinese Labour Corps serving with the British Expeditionary Force.
  • Tom Wintringham, Mutiny: Being a Survey of Mutinies from Spartacus to Invergordon, Stanley Nott, London 1937, relies on Daily Herald news reports for the First World War period, but passably presents a class analysis of mutiny and mutineers.
Further Materials: In addition, other relevant journal materials on the subject of British armies and mutinies in the First World War include the following.
  • Andrew Rothstein, The Soldiers’ Strikes of 1919, Journeyman Press, 1985; reviewed by Clive Heemskerk, Militant International Review, no. 30, Autumn 1985.
  • Wildcat, no. 1, 1974, includes Disaffection, 1797–1974; Open Letter to British Soldiers, reprinted from Sheldrake’s Military Gazette, Aldershot, 1 March 1912, the leaflet for which Crowsley, Bowman and Tom Mann were arraigned for anti-war propaganda among the troops; Philip Sanson, Revived ’45: Anarchists Against the Army, his speech at his trial; Colin Ward, Witness for the Prosecution, events in 1945.
  • Douglas Gill and Gloden Dallas, Mutiny at Etaples, Past and Present, no. 69, November 1975.
  • William Allison, Inadmissible Memories of a Suppressed Mutiny, Guardian, 22 September 1986.
  • Peter Tatchell, The Monocle That Blinds Us to the Many Other Mutinies, Guardian, 19 September 1986.
  • David Englander, Mutiny at Etaples Base Camp, The Bulletin for the Society of Labour History, no. 52, 1987.
  • David Englander, Troops and Trade Unions, 1919, History Today, March 1987.
  • John Field, The Kent Coast Mutinies of 1919, Cantium, Volume 4, no. 4, Winter 1972–73.
  • Chanie Rosenberg, 1919: Britain on the Brink of Revolution, Bookmarks, London 1987.
The second article in this section is an intriguing document from the archives. Sir Basil Thomson’s Report on Revolutionary Organisations in the United Kingdom, no. 79, dated 4 November 1920, reproduces the text of the British Red Army Red Officers’ Course. The original probably no longer exists, and the text, which is contained in Thomson’s report, is probably a police fabrication. According to Thomson’s report, the text was in a little red book borne by the Comintern emissary, Errki Veltheim, who was arrested outside the house of Colonel L’Estrange Malone MP in October 1920. Malone, Thomson claimed, had drafted the text, and Veltheim was providing organisational support and funding for the establishment of a British Red Army. Veltheim was jailed for six months and deported, and Malone came within an ace of being charged with treason. The context in which this occurred has been chronicled by Walter Kendall in The Revolutionary Movement in Britain 1900–1921, pages 246–8. For various reasons, Kendall’s account, and his interpretation of some other incidents dismisses the rôle of agents provocateur – in this case a notorious, near-reptilian turncoat named Josef Nosivitsky, at the time employed by Thomson himself.
Material of related interest includes the following. On This Day, 17 November 1925, Reds and the Navy, The Times, 17 December 1991, official disquiet over Communist leaflets circulating among the fleet; A. Neuburg, a variety of authors, writing around a theme suggested by Trotsky, Armed Insurrection, London 1970, original German edition, 1928; reviewed by Régis Monneret, Lutte ouvrière, no. 95, 17 June 1970; On This Day, 7 July 1930, Conviction under Incitement to Mutiny Act, The Times, 7 July 1995, indictment of a Communist for distributing leaflets signed by ‘The Communist Group of British Soldiers’ appealing to the troops not to serve in India; D. Englander, Military Intelligence and the Defence of the Realm: The Surveillance of Soldiers and Civilians in Britain during the First World War, The Bulletin for the Society of Labour History, Volume 52, no. 1, 1987; Tom Wintringham, Modern Weapons and Revolution, Labour Monthly, Volume 15, no. 1, January 1933; Tom Wintringham, Mutiny, published for the Labour Book Service during the Second World War.



Julian Putkowski, Mutiny in India in 1919

Report on Revolutionary Organisations: Red Officer Course

 

*** Of This And That In The Old North Adamsville Neighborhood-The Bard Of The North Adamsville High School Class Of 1964?- “Say What?”


 
A YouTube film clip to set the mood for this sketch.
From The Pen Of Frank Jackman

You know sometimes one has to, I have to, marvel at some of the communications technology that makes our work a lot easier. Take the Internet which was only maybe a dream, a far-fetched science fiction dream, back about fifty years when I graduated from high school, North Adamsville High in Massachusetts, in 1964. Now that fifty years is important, personally important, because that number means that my 50th anniversary class reunion is coming up now scheduled for the fall. I admit that for the previous fifty years I have studiously avoided returning to the old town for any previous class reunions but this one I had wanted to attend, the reasons  which not need detain us here. Or rather I wanted to attend once the reunion committee was able to track me down and invite me to attend. Or a better “rather” to join a NA64.com website run by a wizard webmaster, Donna, who was also class Vice-President back then to keep up to date on progress for that reunion. Now it was not a hard task for the committee to find me on the Internet these days since I belong to a professional organization where information on my whereabouts is public knowledge. What is impressive though is the “elephant in the room” since it would have taken much work, and probably fruitless work at that, track me down for let’s say the 20th, 25th or 40th reunions that took place.  

All this by way of introducing the following sketch which could not possibly have been done at those previous reunions (except perhaps the 40th if anybody was savvy enough to test the more complicated waters then ). You see I did join the class site in order to keep informed about upcoming events but also as is my wont to make commentary about various aspects of the old hometown the high school then, and any other tidbit that my esteemed fellow classmates might want to ponder. All this made simple as pie by the act of joining. Once logged in on the site one is provided with a personal profile page complete with space for private e-mails, story-telling, various vital statistics like kids and grandkids, and space for the billion photos of the progeny. Additionally, and critically for this sketch, there is a common “Message Forum” page when one, I, could hold forth and discuss those comments about the old days mentioned above.       

A while back I went on to the class website to check out a new addition to the list of those who have joined the site. We can use our personal settings to be informed of that kind of information on a frequent basis. The guy who had just joined, a guy I did not know but who I had seen around the school (you would have seen almost everybody in the four years you were at the school with one thing or another even though the class had baby-boomer times over 500 students) and so I was ready to click off the site when I noticed that I had a private e-mail waiting from a woman classmate whom I remembered vaguely from some math class. I also vaguely remember that I might have “hit” on her back then in that class but that was hardly unusual for me since I was nothing but a forlorn skirt-chaser and fantasy daydreaming about half the girls in the school at any given time. But all that is neither here nor there today. What is here though is her e-mail question (and my reply ) which is what drives this thing.  

Linda, whose last name shall be omitted not out of consideration for her sensibilities but rather to avoid the long litigation which I am sure would ensue if I mentioned her last name and others clamored on and on about why their names were not included, wrote an e-mail, a friendly e-mail I assume, asking me if I, with this never-ending (my word, she just said “a lot”) stream of stories about the old days at early 1960s North Adamsville High, was trying to be THE bard (her words, not mine including the capitalized “the”) of the Class of 1964. I rapidly replied with this short answer- “What, are you kidding?”(Although I wish I had said the faux- hip, “say what?,” used in the headline to this sketch). Later though, after I thought about it for a while, I realized that I did (and do) mean to be ONE of the latter-day voices of our class. Why? I have, with all due modesty, the perfect resume for the job. Here it is:

I belonged to no in-school clubs. I couldn’t (can’t) sing so the glee club was out. Although I was tempted to join, low-voice, whisper-voice join, white shirt, string tie, black chinos and all. I had joined the church, Roman Catholic Church choir, and therefore filled with deep sacrificial and sober music in sixth grade for no other reason than a certain “stick” (in those days a term describing girls who had not gotten their figures yet) named Teresa Green was a member and I was, ah, smitten by her. And while that situation never worked out I might have done so again in high school  because a certain Rosemary I had eyes for sang a very sweet alto, or whatever they call that sing-song voice that made me think of flowered-fields, and fresh food picnic baskets in Edenic gardens. That as well never worked out because the “intelligence,” the around school intelligence that had Facebook beaten six way to Sunday had it that she had some college joe boyfriend. So I will just say I was smitten, lonely smitten but not smitten enough to tangle with that guy. Again let me leave it at Rosemary, no last names, again since I am still wary of that litigation from certain Susans, Lindas, and Anns who might still feel hurt not to see their names in lights here. Even though if I had approached them in those days I would have received the deep-freeze, a big time deep-freeze, and been dismissed out of hand.

The same was true for the school newspaper, the unlamented North Star, although in that case it was a Carol whom I would have joined the organization for in order to cub report next to (ditto, on leaving out the last name, okay). Except in her case she had a big bruiser of a boyfriend who just happened to play right tackle for the championship North Adamsville Red Raiders school football team. And he (I will use no first or last name for that monster even now and not because I fear litigation, no, because I fear for my life, and rightly so) made it very clear one time when I actually talked to her for more than about a minute that unless I had an interest in doormats I had better take my ragamuffin, low- rent act elsewhere. Moreover, I doubt, very seriously doubt, that after about two days I could have kept a straight face while performing my duties as a cub reporter reporting on such hot spot topics as the latest cause bake sale, the latest words of wisdom from Miss (Ms.) Sonos, the newspaper’s faculty advisor, about whatever was on her dippy mind, or “shilling” to drum up an audience for the next big school play. Not “the world is my beat” Frank Jackman. No way.

I, moreover, belonged to no after-school organizations like the chess club, science club, bird-watchers or any of those other odd-ball activities that couldn’t rate enough to get the school-day imprimatur. I was enough of an oddball (read: filled with teen angst and alienation) to not be tarred with that designation by straining my eyes like the chess club guys who got off on double check-mating or whatever they call it their haggard opponents, the science guys blowing up or threatening to blow up the school with their cutting-edge chemical experiments, or watching colorful and exotic birds early in the morning somewhere in the marshes adjoining Adamsville Beach.  

See too, after school was “Frankie’s time,” the time Frankie Riley held forth inside, in front of, and sometimes behind, Salducci’s Pizza Parlor “up the Downs” (remember that term?) and I was none other than one of Frankie’s corner boys. For those who do not remember the various clots of corner boys or what corner boys were they were the guys, and it was always guys at our corner, who held up brick and mortar buildings during the evening planning, well planning and let’s leave it at that since the statute of limitations may not have run out. Not only that but I was from about the ninth grade Frankie  “shill,” his scribe, busy promoting every scheme, every idea, every half-idea, and every screwy notion that made its way into his ill-formed brain. So who would have had time for in school activities like a “scoop” on the amount raised at some bake sale, what that nutty Sonos had to say on astrophysics or U.F.O’s, or the virtues of some ill-conceived, poorly-acted school play. Needless to say those after school activities are not even worthy of mention.

I freely admit, freely admit now, after a lifetime of turmoil, of struggle over ten thousand ideas, the fire of a thousand half-ideas, and a few thousand thought-provoking books that had I known about the Great Books Club held after school I might have been drawn to that. Spent time thrashing out what Marx had to say about capitalism, John Stuart Mill had to say about democracy, Plato had to say about the caves, F. Scott Fitzgerald about the wooly Jazz Age, Ernest Hemingway about the lost generation, his lost generation a couple of generations before ours, and lots of stuff like that. I spent much time later in life struggling with ideas that could just as easily have been thrashed out then. And, of course, the other problem was that if I had known about the club and could have joined (I found out later it was somewhat exclusive) the only girl that I remember that might have been a member of the club and that I might have wanted to talk to was Sarah (remember we are not using last names in case you forgot), and she was, well, just a stick even at sixteen although I liked to talk to her in class. A lot.

I did not belong to church-affiliated clubs, CYO, good boys and girls Christian Doctrine classes, christ no. I was on that long doubting Thomas road away from churchly concerns. Oh, except for one Minnie, yah, sweet Irish rose Minnie, whom I used to sit a few rows behind at 8:00 AM Mass at Sacred Heart and stare at her ass on Sunday. But I could have done that anywhere, and did according to her best friend, Jean, who sat behind me in class and has stated for the record in public as recently as a couple of years ago that I did it every time I could in the corridor and that Minnie knew about it, and kind of liked the idea although a lot of good that knowledge does me now. Moreover Phil Larkin (it’s okay to use his last name because I have already talked about “Foul-Mouth” Phil before, plenty, and he is in no position, no position this side of a four by six cell, to even spell the word litigation in my presence), yah, Phil Larkin moved in on her way before I got up the nerve to do more than watch her sway.

Ditto organizations like the YMCA, Eagle Scouts, or any of those service things. Corner boy life declared such things as strictly corn- ball. Not that I had anything, per se, against joining organizations. What I was though, and this was the attraction of rough-edged, snarly corner boy-ness for me, was alienated from anything that smacked of straight up, of normal, of, well square. And everything mentioned above, except for the girl part. And in that girl part maybe not including a stick like Sarah although I really did like to talk to her in class. She had some great big ideas, and knew how to articulate them. I hope she still does. Yes, I know what you are thinking. Instead of watching Minnie sway 24/7 I could have been cheek to cheek with Sarah, discussing stuff and... Don’t you think I haven’t thought about that, christ?

I also played no major sport that drove a lot of the social networking of the time. I am being polite using that term here: this is a family-friendly site after all. Isn’t it? If it isn’t then upon notice I will be more than happy to “spill the beans” about what was said, how it was said, and by whom about who "did" what every school day Monday morning before school in the boys’ “lav,” or the girls’ “lav” for that matter. And, again I will not worry in the least about litigation. Hey, the truth is a powerful defense. The sports that did drive me throughout my high school career, track and cross-country, were then very marginal sports for “nerds,” low-rent fake athletes, and other assorted odd-balls, and I was, moreover, overwhelmingly underwhelming at them, to boot. I have recently moved to have my times in various track events declared classified information under a national security blanket just so certain prying eyes like ace-runner Bill Bailey and, naturally, that old nemesis Frankie Riley do no gain access to that information for their own nefarious purposes.

I did not hang around with the class intellectuals, although I was as obsessed and driven by books, ideas and theories as anyone else at the time, maybe more so. I was, to be polite again, painfully shy around girls, as my furtive desire for Minnie mentioned above attests to, and therefore somewhat socially backward, although I was privately enthralled by more than one of them. Girls, that is. And to top it all off, to use a term that I think truly describes me then, I was something of a ragamuffin from the town's wrong side of the track, the notorious Black Street section over by the bridge to Boston. Oh, did I mentioned that I was also so alienated from the old high school environment that I either threw, or threatened to throw, my yearbook in the nearest river right after graduation; in any case I no longer have it.

Perfect, right? No. Not a complete enough resume? Well how about this. My family, on my mother’s side, had been in the old town since about the time of the “famine ships” from Ireland in the 1840s. I have not gone in depth on the family genealogy but way back when someone in the family was a servant of some sort, to one of the branches of the presidential Adams family. Most of my relatives distance and far, went through the old high school. The streets of the old town were filled with the remnants of the clan. My friends, deny it or not and I sometimes did, the diaspora "old sod" shanty Irish aura of North Adamsville was in the blood.

How else then can one explain, after a fifty year hiatus, this overweening desire of mine to write about the “Dust Bowl” that served as a training track during my running days. (The field situated just across the street from North Adamsville Middle School, of unblessed memory. Does anyone really want to go back in early teen life? No way.) Or write on the oddness of separate boys’ and girls’ bowling teams during our high school years as if mixed social contact in that endeavor would lead to s-x, or whatever. Or my taking a “cheap” pot-shot at that mysterious “Tri-Hi-Y” (a harmless social organization for women students that I have skewered for its virginal aspirations, its three purities; clean thoughts, acts, and deeds, or something like that). Or the million other things that pop into my head these days.

Oh yah, I can write, a little. Not unimportant for a bard, right? The soul of a poet, if somewhat deaf to the sweetness of the language. Time and technology has given us an exceptional opportunity to tell our collective story and seek immortality and I want in on that. Old Walt Whitman could sing of America highways and byways, I will sing of the old town, gladly.

Well, do I get a job? Hey, you can always “fire” me. Just “click” DELETE and move on.