On
The 11th Anniversary Of The Iraq War-U.S./Allied Troops Out Of
Afghanistan Now!
From
The Pen Of Frank Jackman
[No this writer is not lost in a time warp, nor is he suffering from a senior moment in
noting the 11th Anniversary of the ill-fated, ill-advised, ill,
well, let’s just keep it as the previous two, start of the now seemingly
completed fiasco in Iraq. However although American troops have mainly been
withdrawn many thousand American bought and paid for “contract” soldiers are
still operating in that theater. Moreover the wreckage from the huge American
footprint (boot print, really) is still wreaking havoc on that benighted land
from lack of electrical power to unexploded bombs to speak nothing of the
current constant political turmoil between the myriad factions struggling for
power. Then there is the question of those tens of thousands of soldiers
switched over within a heartbeat from benighted Iraq to benighted Afghanistan.
The call for immediate troop withdrawal from Afghanistan if not drawing much support
in these back- burner concern days is still a necessary call. Finally, if there
is a modern example of the follies of
war, of a needless imperial adventure, of flat-out American imperial hubris to
do something explosive (in more ways than one) then the ill-famed Iraq invasion
started on March 19, 2003 should be etched in every leftist militant, hell,
every thoughtful citizen’s brain.]
*******
Walking toward Union Square in his hometown of New York City one brisk, blustery mid-March
Saturday in 2006 Tim Reid was approached by an older man with a full
grey-speckled beard and longish matching hair passing out leaflets for a 3rd anniversary of the Iraq war anti-war
rally. As the older man tried to interest him in a leaflet Tim recognized him,
Artie Feingold, as an old co-worker in the struggle against the first Iraq war
under Bush’s father in an ad hoc
anti-imperialist committee formed quickly to oppose that war. Tim sheepishly
took the leaflet and as he did so out of some mist of time Artie also recognized
him and started to engage in an effort to get Tim to stay for the rally.
The reason for Tim’s sheepishness and reluctance was
that until very recently he had fully supported the Bush war policy. After a
couple of years of being lied to from top to bottom by that administration, a
couple of years of the whole damn U.S. military being unable to find any
weapons of mass destructions that was the lynchpin to his support, the daily
horrible carnage in the full-scale civil war going on in Iraq, and the
increasing American casualty lists he had taken a few steps away from that
support. Tim was not sure that he
wanted to engage Artie in his reasoning since he knew that Artie had moved from
that ad hoc committee to one of the
never-ending Marxoid groupings that canvassed the city and who reasons for
separate existence (and in some cases existence at all) always evaded him. By
the name of the organization on the leaflet he knew Artie was still a “believer”
and that made him even more hesitant to enter a discussion. He at first moved
away and then headed back to Artie not to argue so much since there now was less
ground separating them but to explain his previous position a little.
Artie, not having seen Tim in many years, was
unaware that his politics had changed and so what Tim had to say startled him
at first. Tim noted that his opposition to that first Iraq war, and if he
recalled Artie’s too, had centered on opposition to a war fought for sheiks,
one set of dictators , and oil against the acknowledged mad man Saddam Hussein.
It was not our fight, not at all. Mercifully it was soon over and life
continued on. This later war though Tim had thought had been fully justified in
the new post 9/11world reality especially when the mad men were hitting New
York City. Hitting, he admitted, the place where he and his kids were living, a
fact that changed his view significantly since he felt he had to go to any
lengths to protect his kids in a dangerous world. Besides he was sure that
when, of all the Bush administration speakers, solid Colin Powell a man not
easily rattled and of sound judgment in military matters, had given the
“green light” to those tales of weapons of mass destruction he was on board.
After the initial “slam dunk” invasion Tim felt that the whole thing would be
wrapped up and nation-building could go forward quickly. Then the whole thing
turned to ashes, turned to ashes almost as quickly as the initial success. He
felt sure though that that devious Hussein bastard’s hiding places would be
found at some point. Then nothing,
nothing but casualty reports.
Artie listened to Tim rather politely like in the
intervening years he too had learned to be less hot-headed and argumentative
and more thoughtful. He confessed that Tim’s story sounded very much like that
of his parents who still lived over in Brooklyn and who had been early members
of Students for Socialism in their youthful student days who went that extra
mile with Bush on Iraq to save their beloved city. Then, naturally, Artie, good
old Artie, tried to badger Tim a little into coming over to the rally for a
little while anyway, maybe run into a few more old co-workers from the old
days. Tim begged off, first using the excuse of having to deal with the kids
and then, more truthfully, stated that he while he wasn’t on board the Bush bus
any longer he was not sure that his opposition was deep enough to publicly
express anti-wars sentiments. To Tim’s surprise Artie did not press the issue
but left Tim with this-“Maybe next year for the fourth anniversary anti-war
rally you will join us.” Tim did a double-take and then realized that what
Artie had to say about another year of war might be very true. As he turned
away toward home with the first chants of the day Immediate Unconditional Withdrawal Of U.S. Troops, Stop The War,
and Bring The Troops Home burst into
the old New York air some of the old juices began to flow in his veins…
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