A Look Back

The debate is hot on a timeline to withdraw our troops from Iraq. On one hand, setting a definitive date for withdrawal would play into the hands of the enemy. The insurgents could sit back, stockpile weapons and recruit the next generation of so called freedom fighters and suicide bombers. On the other hand, no solid exit strategy leaves us up to our necks in a pool of military and political quicksand.

The one certain problem with history is that if we don’t learn from it, it will definitely repeat itself. The rhetoric of today is similar to that of the past. One side is touted as acting like Communists or Nazis, while the other side is likened to namby pambbies sleeping with the enemy. Apologies are demanded and the shuffle to mince the proper words is on. The enemy has sustained “significant losses” replaces the “body count” of a previous war. Minimal casualties has a definition of its own which actually is indefinable. “Mission accomplished” (Iraq), “We’ll be out of there in six months” (Bosnia) . In Vietnam, one administration kept us there because of a promise to defend and not be defeated. That was 1965. Another administration alleged we would leave when the So. Vietnamese were trained and enemy activity lessened. That was in 1969 and not only did we leave prior to accomplishing what we had promised, but we departed only after suffering thousand upon thousands of casualties.

Yes, the military might of the United States is second to none when it comes to conventional battlefield warfare. But when faced with a resilient enemy forging a guerilla attack, unsympathetic to its victims whether they be young or old, women or children, we are faced with a problem of enormous proportion. Iraq has had its elections and a formation of government. Security forces have been recruited. Yet, day after day, the insurgent forces prevail in their scheme of death and destruction. Prior to the genesis of this war, I voiced my opinion on the issue. Our military is ill equipped and ill trained to fight in an urban environment. Not because they are second rate, but because our finest are hogtied by the suits sitting in their little Washington cubicles.

One General had the gonads to voice his opinion , somewhat contrary to the stance of the Administration, while testifying before Congress. Perhaps the General should seek other employment. Might this be another case of a military man, knowledgeable of his profession, second guessing his civilian superior? One somewhat cloaked in scandal as to his business aspects of the war?

A Walk Off the Moon

It’s finally over and not a moment too soon. Was the verdict a surprise? Was the world shocked by the acquittal of pop star Jackson? After all we haven’t convicted a celebrity since that Friday 2000 some years ago when Pilate dropped the gavel on a defendant named Christ.

The outcome was all too predictable. Drama, yes, but like so many Hollywood thrillers, anticlimactic. A he said/he said scenario. The criminal trial doctrine concerning reasonable doubt often places an unreasonable burden on the accuser and anything, no matter how trivial, can place a doubt in the mid of a juror. In this case, the Accuser was convicted for the sins of the mother. The jury was loathe of the woman. They held her in contempt for permitting Jackson to share a bed with her son. They despised her for snapping her fingers at them. Reminds me of a rape victim being scolded for wearing alluring clothing. Rationalize your actions by accentuating the perceived faults of others. So the jury let Mr. Jackson moonwalk right out of the place.

But we must place our faith in the system. It works for the most part. Especially when the most part is fame and fortune. A lesser man would at this moment be housed in Cell Block G clothed in a bright orange jumpsuit without a thought of bright fresh jammies and a master bedroom. Reasonable doubt be damned; no doubt, the folly. Bookstore clerks scurry to make space for upcoming best sellers. Talk show producers realign the schedules. Pundits and legal analysts prepare their take on the subject at hand.

Maybe a small glass of Jesus juice to relieve the anxiety and then off to bed. Goodnight, jurors.

Thoughts of A Time Past

It has been said that time heals all wounds. But even time lacks the power to erase memories. Each year around this day in June, I remember the story. In 1999 I had the opportunity to travel toWashington, D.C. as a chaperone for a group of wonderful young musicians and singers. My daughter was a member of the group and my son came along as kind of a mascot. The itinerary was set in stone by the leader of the group. One of the stops would be the Wall.

A bus ride gives you time to think. Think of the days and nights you wished you could forget. Think of friends who never had the chance to have a family or know the family they had. Think of the absurdity of fighting a senseless war. Yet, when your country calls, the duty and responsibility to defend against all enemies, real or perceived, challenges you to forget all thoughts of self and work toward the common good of all.

I thought my heart was hardened for the task at hand. After all I had served almost two years in the 'Nam and eleven years as a cop in the city. I had witnessed much and wept little. My son was six at the time of our walk along the Wall. As we held hands and took our first step, my eyes filled with tears. Uncontrollable sobbing, followed by a deluge of tears. The sorrow, anguish and pain of twenty eight years of denial finally was let loose. My son looked up at me and I know he sensed the gravity of the situation. He led me down the path in front of the wall to a bench. He had never seen his father cry, but he did not abandon me in my time of need. My daughter, sixteen at the time, found me and gave me a comforting hug. Others in the group, young and old, were unable to comprehend. Why the tears? They would never understand.