[Peace-discuss] Things are getting better

[Ricky Baldwin]

Just in time for the "bloodiest series of attacks"
since the fall of Baghdad, eh, Carl?  Looks like
al-Qaeda et al may have taken a page from Vietnam
history, too (that is, by planning a micro version of
the Tet offensive).

This latest series of attacks, I think, shows a
sophistication (not just logistical but in terms of
timing) and a political orientation (targeting Red
Cross/Red Crescent, as they did in the UN compound
bombings not long ago, apparently in order to indicate
as much hatred for internationl agencies as US
invaders) that I don't think the anti-war movement has
really begun to fully recognize.  Certainly the Dean
folks haven't.

It's further indication, in my opinion, of the urgency
of getting the hell out of Iraq.  Now.

Even if the entire war/occupation network underwent
some kind of conversion experience, from the White
House to MCI, and suddenly really did have the best of
intentions toward the Iraqi people, there is no way
that 'we can help stabilize the country and then
leave'.  The latest bombings targetted police we
trained, it seems, with this opinion specifically in
mind.  Everyone we train, help, back in any way,
immediately becomes a collaborator and if not a target
then at the very least an illegitimate authority NOT
chosen by the Iraqi people themselves.

Do we owe the Iraqi reparations?  Obviously we do.  So
we should not "abandon" Iraq in that sense.  But we
need to physically leave.

But maybe I need to just put this in a letter to  the
editor instead of preaching about it here. What do
others think?

Ricky


--- "C. G. Estabrook" <galliher at alexia.lis.uiuc.edu>
wrote:
> [The Sunday Washington Post contains an amazing
> op-ed written jointly by a
> guy from the American Enterprise Institute and
> another from the Project
> for a New American Century -- neocon propaganda
> outfits with much business
> money.  They are calling (seriously) for a
> Vietnam-style
> counter-insurgency campaign in Iraq -- but of course
> without the
> "mistakes" made in Vietnam.  The thing has to be
> read to be believed.
> Meanwhile, here's an account of how things are at
> the center of the
> American occupation, form the redoubtable Robert
> Fisk.  --CGE]
> 
> 	The Independent
> 	10/26/03
> 	They're Getting Better
> 	Running the gauntlet of small arms fire and
> rocket-propelled
> 	grenades after check-in at Baghdad airport 
> 	By Robert Fisk
> 
> YOU need to take a military escort to reach Baghdad
> airport these days.
> Yes, things are getting better in Iraq, according to
> President Bush --
> remember that each hour that goes by -- but the
> guerrillas are getting so
> close to the runways that the Americans have chopped
> down every tree,
> every palm bush, every scrap of undergrowth on the
> way.
> 
> Rocket-propelled grenades have killed so many GIs on
> this stretch of
> highway that the US army -- like the Israelis in
> southern Lebanon in the
> mid-80s -- have erased nature. You travel to Baghdad
> airport through a
> wasteland. Heathrow it isn't.
> 
> "OK folks, now you can leave your bags here and go
> inside for your
> boarding passes," a cheery US army engineer tells
> the first arrivals for
> Amman. So we collect slips of paper that show no
> flight number, no seat
> number, no destination, not even a take-off time.
> There's a Burger King
> across the lot, but it's in a "high-security zone"
> which mere passengers
> cannot visit. There's no water for sale. There are
> so few seats that
> passengers stand in the heat outside what must be
> the biggest post office
> in the world, a vast US military sorting hanger with
> packets of mail for
> every one of the 146,000 troops in Iraq, standing
> 30ft high in racks.
> 
> But take a look at the passengers. There's a lady
> from the aid
> organisation Care heading off for a holiday in
> Thailand, and there's the
> Bishop of Basra in his black and red robes and
> dangling crucifix, and
> there's an outgoing television crew and the
> International Red Cross
> representative with a little Red Cross plane to
> catch to Kirkuk. There's
> also a British construction man up from Hilla who
> spent the previous night
> under fire with the local Polish battalion.
> "Rocket-propelled grenades and
> heavy rifle fire for two hours," he mutters. Of
> course, the occupation
> authorities never revealed that. Because things are
> getting better in
> Iraq.
> 
> Behind us, a series of giant four-engined jets are
> climbing in circles
> into the hot morning sky, big unmarked jobs that fly
> 180 degrees to the
> ground in tight circles to take off and land, so low
> you'd think they
> would trip the runway with their wing-tips --
> anything to avoid the
> ground-to-air missiles that America's enemies are
> now firing at aircraft
> in the "New Iraq". "It's routine," one of the
> American engineers confides
> to us. "We get shot at every night."
> 
> Among the other passengers, there's a humanitarian
> worker who's clearly
> had a nervous breakdown and some rather lordly Iraqi
> ladies escorted to
> check-in by an RAF officer with too much hair over
> his collar and, across
> the lot, a squad of American Special Forces soldiers
> enjoying the sun,
> heavy with black webbing, automatic rifles and
> pistols. Why do they all
> wear shades, I ask them? One of them takes off his
> sun-glasses. "What girl
> would look at us if they could see our real faces?"
> I agree. But they're
> an intelligent bunch of men, heavy with innuendo.
> Yes, they've got a safe
> house near Fallujah and combat casualties are
> sometimes "contained" within
> road accidents or drownings.
> 
> A GUY called Chuck wants to confide in me. "You know
> the most precious
> resource about this country, Bob?" he asks. "It's
> the Iraqi people.
> There's a lot of protoplasm here." I was
> contemplating the definition of
> protoplasm when the first mortar came in, a
> thundering roar that had the
> passengers ducking like a theatrical chorus and a
> big white circle of
> smoke rising lazily from the other side of the
> runway. There's a whizzing
> noise and another clap of sound.
> 
> "They're getting better," Chuck tells me. "They must
> have put that one
> close to the runway." The other Special Forces lads
> nod approvingly.
> Another tremendous explosion, and they all nod
> together. Another big white
> ring rippling skywards, as if a giant cigar addict
> had sat down for a
> smoke by the runway. "Not bad at all," says Chuck's
> friend.
> 
> "We used to have a five-mile safety perimeter round
> the airport," Chuck
> says. "That's now down to two miles. The max
> anti-aircraft range is
> 8,000ft. So two miles is on the edge." Translation:
> US forces used to
> control five miles round the airport -- too far to
> permit a man with a
> hand-held launcher to hit a plane. Ambushes and
> attacks on the Americans
> have reduced their control to a mere two miles. On
> the edge of that
> radius, a man might just hit a plane with a missile
> range of 8,000ft.
> 
> The Americans say there are two planes flying to
> Amman, at 10am and noon.
> Then another mortar round explodes in front of the
> hangars on the far side
> of the airport. And another.
> 
> "This," the Bishop of Basra sermonises to me, "is
> the continuation of our
> 22-year war." I call a colleague in Baghdad. Airport
> under mortar fire, I
> helpfully report. "Heard nothing about it, Bob,"
> comes the reply. "How
> many mortars did you say?" But the Special Forces
> men are enjoying
> themselves. An Apache helicopter races over us to
> strafe the Iraqi
> guerrillas. "Some hope," says Chuck. "They've
> already pissed off."
> Technicians in guerrilla warfare, the Special Forces
> men are coolly
> appreciative of anyone's professionalism, including
> that of the enemy.
> 
> An American engineer pops up. If the TV crew will
> buy his guys Cokes, they
> can visit Burger King. A crackle of rifle fire from
> way beyond the airport
> perimeter. There must be a movie here, Walt Disney
> meets Vietnam.
> 
> The Airbus belongs, incredibly, to Royal Jordanian,
> the only international
> carrier to risk the run to Baghdad once a day. At
> the steps, there's a
> squad of Jordanian security men in white socks --
> Jordanian and Syrian
> plain-clothes cops always wear white socks -- and
> they insist, right there
> on the runway, in checking over all our gear again.
> Computers turned on,
> computers turned off, cameras opened, closed,
> notebooks out, even a sheaf
> of readers' letters to be prowled over. The Apache
> flies back, rockets
> still in their pods.
> 
> Take-off is rather faster than usual. But there's no
> steady climb to
> cruising altitude. The Airbus turns sharply to port,
> G-forces pushing us
> into our seats, and there outside my window is the
> tented prison-camp city
> where the Americans keep more than 4,000 of their
> Iraqi prisoners without
> trial. The tents start to spin as the plane twists
> to starboard and then
> to port again, and there is the same prison camp
> outside my window, but
> this time upside down and turning anti-clockwise. I
> look around the cabin
> and notice fingers dug deep into arm-rests. The
> Airbus engines are
> howling, biting into the thinner air, and our eyes
> are searching for that
> thin trail of smoke that no one wants to see.
> 
> Then the pilot levels out. A Royal Jordanian
> stewardess in a bright white
> blouse arrives at our seats. Things are getting
> better in Iraq. "Juice or
> red wine, which would you like?" she asks me.
> Reader, which did I choose?
> 
> ***
> 
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