''I Saw Marines Kill Civilians''

[thedrifter]

Embedded Photographer: ''I Saw Marines Kill Civilians''
Posted on Thursday, April 17 @ 18:29:36 EDT by JohnBrown


by Michael Guerrin, Le Monde [FR]
April 16, 2003

Translated for CounterPunch by NORMAN MADARASZ

Laurent Van der Stockt, a photographer working for the Gamma agency and under contract for the New York Times Magazine, followed the advance of the 3/4 Marines (3rd battalion, 4th regiment) for three weeks, up to the taking of Baghdad on April 9. He was accompanied by New York Times Magazine editor, Peter Maas. Born in Belgium in 1964, Laurent Van der Stockt mainly works in conflict zones: the first Gulf War, Yugoslavia, Afghanistan, Chechnya, Africa and the Occupied Territories. This is his eyewitness account of the Marines' march to Baghdad:

"Everything began at the Kuwait/Iraq border. I forced my way into the country and arrived at Safwan. American soldiers had seized the opportunity to tear up portraits of Saddam Hussein on the main street. They were doing this right in front of the local inhabitants, whose elation quickly vanished. The soldiers obviously didn't imagine that it was up to the Iraqis to be doing this, or that it was humiliating for them. These were the same soldiers who would topple down Saddam's statue in Baghdad three weeks later...

I understood that the Marines' general strategy was to not waste any time. In the cities they crossed, the Marines had to make a show of force. Then they would resume their advance by going as fast as possible up by the east through the desert, and avoid any contact with the population. It takes an effort to picture what an army looks like as it advances through the sands. It's an anthill. It's more than a city on the march. It's a world whose extremities are never seen. It's a cutting edge, mechanical version of Julius Caesar's army.

During the first few days, with colleagues from the New York Times and Newsweek, I tried to follow the convoys in a SUV by playing hide-and-seek. We were spending a lot of time then with the 1 500 Marines of the 3/4, commanded by Colonel Bryan P. McCoy. His troops gave us water, gas and food. In exchange for their tolerance, we respected the rules to not pass the convoy and to camp at such and such a place. We were just barely tolerated. The colonel could see that the 'few jokers were behaving well'. He knew we had experienced more wars than his own troops.

For McCoy, we were obviously interesting right from the start. We were the ones who could tell his story. Trust settled in between us. He let us drive at the head of the convoy. The Marines are generally less privileged than the army. They're trained to do the dirty work, the less honorary jobs. They have the oldest tanks, and the least up-to-date M16 rifles. They themselves translate 'USMC' (United States Marine Corps) by United States Misgodded Children, i.e. the US' forgotten children, forgotten by God.

Their motto is 'Search and Kill'. The 'Kilo' unit is nicknamed 'Killer Kilo'. The words 'Carnivore' or 'Blind Killer' are painted on their tanks. McCoy could snap with a 'Shame on You' * a smile flashing across his face * to the sniper who had just finished telling him: 'I've got eight, Sir, but only five'. Literally meaning: I've shot eight, but only five of them are dead.

I've never seen a war with so few 'returns'. The Iraqi army was like a ghost. It barely existed. Over the three weeks, I only saw the adversary fire a few short-range rockets and a few shots. I saw deserted trenches, a dead Iraqi soldier lying next to a piece of bread and some old equipment. Nothing that really made you feel that there was a real confrontation going on, nothing comparable to the massiveness of the means at the Americans' disposal.

On April 6, we were at the outskirts of Baghdad, facing a strategic bridge the Americans called 'the Baghdad Highway Bridge'. Residential zones were now much greater in number. American snipers got the order to kill anything coming in their direction. That night a teenager who was crossing the bridge was killed.

On the morning of April 7, the Marines decided to cross the bridge. A shell fell onto an armored personnel carrier. Two marines were killed. The crossing took on a tragic aspect. The soldiers were stressed, febrile. They were shouting. The risk didn't appear to be that great, so I followed their advance. They were howling, shouting orders and positions to each other. It sounded like something in-between a phantasm, mythology and conditioning. The operation was transformed into crossing the bridge over the River Kwai.

Later, there was some open terrain. The Marines were advancing and taking up position, hiding behind mounds of earth. They were still really tense. A small blue van was moving towards the convoy. Three not-very-accurate warning shots were fired. The shots were supposed to make the van stop. The van kept on driving, made a U-turn, took shelter and then returned slowly. The Marines opened fire. All hell broke loose. They were firing all over the place. You could hear 'Stop firing' being shouted. The silence that set in was overwhelming. Two men and a woman had just been riddled with bullets. So this was the enemy, the threat.

A second vehicle drove up. The same scenario was repeated. Its passengers were killed on the spot. A grandfather was walking slowly with a cane on the sidewalk. They killed him too (SEE PHOTO IN LE MONDE). As with the old man, the Marines fired on a SUV driving along the river bank that was getting too close to them. Riddled with bullets, the vehicle rolled over. Two women and a child got out, miraculously still alive. They sought refuge in the wreckage. A few seconds later, it flew into bits as a tank lobbed a terse shot into it.

Marines are conditioned to reach their target at any cost, by staying alive and facing any type of enemy. They abusively make use of disproportionate firepower. These hardened troops, followed by tons of equipment, supported by extraordinary artillery power, protected by fighter jets and cutting-edge helicopters, were shooting on local inhabitants who understood absolutely nothing of what was going on.

With my own eyes I saw about fifteen civilians killed in two days. I've gone through enough wars to know that it's always dirty, that civilians are always the first victims. But the way it was happening here, it was insane.

At the roughest moment, the most humane of the troops was called Doug. He gave real warning shots. From 800 yards he could hit a tire and, if that wasn't enough, then the motor. He saved ten lives in two hours by driving back civilians who were coming towards us.

Distraught soldiers were saying: 'I ain't prepared for this, I didn't come here to shoot civilians.' The colonel countered that the Iraqis were using inhabitants to kill marines, that 'soldiers were being disguised as civilians, and that ambulances were perpetrating terrorist attacks.'

I drove away a girl who had had her humerus pierced by a bullet. Enrico was holding her in his arms. In the rear, the girl's father was protecting his young son, wounded in the torso and losing consciousness. The man spoke in gestures to the doctor at the back of the lines, pleading: "I don't understand, I was walking and holding my children's hands. Why didn't you shoot in the air? Or at least shoot me?"

In Baghdad, McCoy sped up the march. He stopped taking the time to search houses one-by-one. He wanted to get to Paradise Place as soon as possible. The Marines were not firing on the thickening population. The course ended with Saddam's statue being toppled. There were more journalists at the scene than Baghdadis. Its five million inhabitants stayed at home."

Interviewed by Michel Guerrin for LE MONDE, April 12, 2003.

Translated for CounterPunch by Norman Madarasz


Sempers,

Roger

[thedrifter]

US Marines turn fire on civilians at the bridge of death <br />
Posted on Monday, March 31 @ 03:44:46 EST by JohnBrown <br />
<br />
by Mark Franchetti, The Times <br />
March 30, 2003 <br />
<br />
THE light was a strange yellowy...

[thedrifter]

Bernize, who always carries a scan picture of his unborn baby daughter with him, shot at the targets from behind a turret, peering through narrow slits of reinforced glass. He shouted at his men to feed him more ammunition. Four marines, standing at the AAV's four corners, precariously perched on ammunition boxes, fired off their M-16s.

Their faces covered in sweat, officers shouted commands into field radios, giving co-ordinates of enemy positions. Some 200 marines, fully exposed to enemy fire and slowed down by their heavy weapons, bulky ammunition packs and NBC suits, ran across the road, taking shelter behind a long brick wall and mounds of earth. A team of snipers appeared, yards from our vehicle.

The exchange of fire was relentless. We were pinned down for more than three hours as Iraqis hiding inside houses and a hospital and behind street corners fired a barrage of ammunition.

Despite the marines' overwhelming firepower, hitting the Iraqis was not easy. The gunmen were not wearing uniforms and had planned their ambush well - stockpiling weapons in dozens of houses, between which they moved freely pretending to be civilians.

"It's a bad situation," said First Sergeant James Thompson, who was running around with a 9mm pistol in his hand. "We don't know who is shooting at us. They are even using women as scouts. The women come out waving at us, or with their hands raised. We freeze, but the next minute we can see how she is looking at our positions and giving them away to the fighters hiding behind a street corner. It's very difficult to distinguish between the fighters and civilians."

Across the square, genuine civilians were running for their lives. Many, including some children, were gunned down in the crossfire. In a surreal scene, a father and mother stood out on a balcony with their children in their arms to give them a better view of the battle raging below. A few minutes later several US mortar shells landed in front of their house. In all probability, the family is dead.

The fighting intensified. An Iraqi fighter emerged from behind a wall of sandbags 500 yards away from our vehicle. Several times he managed to fire off an RPG at our positions. Bernize and other gunners fired dozens of rounds at his dugout, punching large holes into a house and lifting thick clouds of dust.

Captain Mike Brooks, commander of Alpha company, pinned down in front of the mosque, called in tank support. Armed with only a 9mm pistol, he jumped out of the back of his AAV with a young marine carrying a field radio on his back.

Brooks, 34, from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, had been in command of 200 men for just over a year. He joined the marines when he was 19 because he felt that he was wasting his life. He needed direction, was a bit of a rebel and was impressed by the sense of pride in the corps.

He is a soft-spoken man, fair but very firm. Brave too: I watched him sprint in front of enemy positions to brief some of his junior officers behind a wall. Behind us, two 68-ton Abrams tanks rolled up, crushing the barrier separating the lanes on the highway.

The earth shook violently as one tank, Desert Knight, stopped in front of our row of AAVS and fired several 120mm shells into buildings.

A few hundred yards down ambush alley there was carnage. An AAV from Charlie company was racing back towards the bridge to evacuate some wounded marines when it was hit by two RPGs. The heavy vehicle shook but withstood the explosions.

Then the Iraqis fired again. This time the rocket plunged into the vehicle through the open rooftop. The explosion was deadly, made 10 times more powerful by the ammunition stored in the back.

The wreckage smouldered in the middle of the road. I jumped out from the rear hatch of our vehicle, briefly taking cover behind a wall. When I reached the stricken AAV, the scene was mayhem.

The heavy, thick rear ramp had been blown open. There were pools of blood and bits of flesh everywhere. A severed leg, still wearing a desert boot, lay on what was left of the ramp among playing cards, a magazine, cans of Coke and a small bloodstained teddy bear.

"They are f****** dead, they are dead. Oh my God. Get in there. Get in there now and pull them out," shouted a gunner in a state verging on hysterical.

There was panic and confusion as a group of young marines, shouting and cursing orders at one another, pulled out a maimed body.

Two men struggled to lift the body on a stretcher and into the back of a Hummer, but it would not fit inside, so the stretcher remained almost upright, the dead man's leg, partly blown away, dangling in the air.

"We shouldn't be here," said Lieutenant Campbell Kane, 25, who was born in Northern Ireland. "We can't hold this. They are trying to suck us into the city and we haven't got enough ass up here to sustain this. We need more tanks, more helicopters."

Closer to the destroyed AAV, another young marine was transfixed with fear and kept repeating: "Oh my God, I can't believe this. Did you see his leg? It was blown off. It was blown off."

Two CH-46 helicopters, nicknamed Frogs, landed a few hundred yards away in the middle of a firefight to take away the dead and wounded.

If at first the marines felt constrained by orders to protect civilians, by now the battle had become so intense that there was little time for niceties. Cobra helicopters were ordered to fire at a row of houses closest to our positions. There were massive explosions but the return fire barely died down.

Behind us, as many as four AAVs that had driven down along the banks of the Euphrates were stuck in deep mud and coming under fire.

About 1pm, after three hours of intense fighting, the order was given to regroup and try to head out of the city in convoy. Several marines who had lost their vehicles piled into the back of ours.

We raced along ambush alley at full speed, close to a line of houses. "My driver got hit," said one of the marines who joined us, his face and uniform caked in mud. "I went to try to help him when he got hit by another RPG or a mortar. I don't even know how many friends I have lost. I don't care if they nuke that bloody city now. From one house they were waving while shooting at us with AKs from the next. It was insane."

There was relief when we finally crossed the second bridge to the northeast of the city in mid-afternoon. But there was more horror to come. Beside the smouldering wreckage of another AAV were the bodies of another four marines, laid out in the mud and covered with camouflage ponchos. There were body parts everywhere.

One of the dead was Second Lieutenant Fred Pokorney, 31, a marine artillery officer from Washington state. He was a big guy, whose ill-fitting uniform was the butt of many jokes. It was supposed to have been a special day for Pokorney. After 13 years of service, he was to be promoted to first lieutenant. The men of Charlie company had agreed they would all shake hands with him to celebrate as soon as they crossed the second bridge, their mission accomplished.

It didn't happen. Pokorney made it over the second bridge and a few hundred yards down a highway through dusty flatlands before his vehicle was ambushed. Pokorney and his men had no chance. Fully loaded with ammunition, their truck exploded in the middle of the road, its remains burning for hours. Pokorney was hit in the chest by an RPG.

Another man who died was Fitzgerald Jordan, a staff sergeant from Texas. I felt numb when I heard this. I had met Jordan 10 days before we moved into Nasiriya. He was a character, always chewing tobacco and coming up to pat you on the back. He got me to fetch newspapers for him from Kuwait City. Later, we shared a bumpy ride across the desert in the back of a Humvee.

A decorated Gulf war veteran, he used to complain about having to come back to Iraq. "We should have gone all the way to Baghdad 12 years ago when we were here and had a real chance of removing Saddam."

Now Pokorney, Jordan and their comrades lay among unspeakable carnage. An older marine walked by carrying a huge chunk of flesh, so maimed it was impossible to tell which body part it was. With tears in his eyes and blood splattered over his flak jacket, he held the remains of his friend in his arms until someone gave him a poncho to wrap them with.

Frantic medics did what they could to relieve horrific injuries, until four helicopters landed in the middle of the highway to take the injured to a military hospital. Each wounded marine had a tag describing his injury. One had gunshot wounds to the face, another to the chest. Another simply lay on his side in the sand with a tag reading: "Urgent - surgery, buttock."

One young marine was assigned the job of keeping the flies at bay. Some of his comrades, exhausted, covered in blood, dirt and sweat walked around dazed. There were loud cheers as the sound of the heaviest artillery yet to pound Nasiriya shook the ground.

continued......

[thedrifter]

Before last week the overwhelming majority of these young men had never been in combat. Few had even seen a dead body. Now, their faces had changed. Anger and fear were fuelled by rumours that the bodies of American soldiers had been dragged through Nasiriya's streets. Some marines cried in the arms of friends, others sought comfort in the Bible.

Next morning, the men of Alpha company talked about the fighting over MREs (meals ready to eat). They were jittery now and reacted nervously to any movement around their dugouts. They suspected that civilian cars, including taxis, had helped resupply the enemy inside the city. When cars were spotted speeding along two roads, frantic calls were made over the radio to get permission to "kill the vehicles". Twenty-four hours earlier it would almost certainly have been denied: now it was granted.

Immediately, the level of force levelled at civilian vehicles was overwhelming. Tanks were placed on the road and AAVs lined along one side. Several taxis were destroyed by helicopter gunships as they drove down the road.

A lorry filled with sacks of wheat made the fatal mistake of driving through US lines. The order was given to fire. Several AAVs pounded it with a barrage of machinegun fire, riddling the windscreen with at least 20 holes. The driver was killed instantly. The lorry swerved off the road and into a ditch. Rumour spread that the driver had been armed and had fired at the marines. I walked up to the lorry, but could find no trace of a weapon.

This was the start of day that claimed many civilian casualties. After the lorry a truck came down the road. Again the marines fired. Inside, four men were killed. They had been travelling with some 10 other civilians, mainly women and children who were evacuated, crying, their clothes splattered in blood. Hours later a dog belonging to the dead driver was still by his side.

The marines moved west to take a military barracks and secure their third objective, the third bridge, which carried a road out of the city.

At the barracks, the marines hung a US flag from a statue of Saddam, but Lieutenant-Colonel Rick Grabowski, the battalion commander, ordered it down. He toured barracks. There were stacks of Russian-made ammunition and hundreds of Iraqi army uniforms, some new, others left behind by fleeing Iraqi soldiers.

One room had a map of Nasiriya, showing its defences and two large cardboard arrows indicating the US plan of attack to take the two main bridges. Above the map were several murals praising Saddam. One, which sickened the Americans, showed two large civilian planes crashing into tall buildings.

As night fell again there was great tension, the marines fearing an ambush. Two tanks and three AAVs were placed at the north end of the third bridge, their guns pointing down towards Nasiriya, and given orders to shoot at any vehicle that drove towards American positions.

Though civilians on foot passed by safely, the policy was to shoot anything that moved on wheels. Inevitably, terrified civilians drove at speed to escape: marines took that speed to be a threat and hit out. During the night, our teeth on edge, we listened a dozen times as the AVVs' machineguns opened fire, cutting through cars and trucks like paper.

Next morning I saw the result of this order - the dead civilians, the little girl in the orange and gold dress.

Suddenly, some of the young men who had crossed into Iraq with me reminded me now of their fathers' generation, the trigger-happy grunts of Vietnam. Covered in the mud from the violent storms, they were drained and dangerously aggressive.

In the days afterwards, the marines consolidated their position and put a barrier of trucks across the bridge to stop anyone from driving across, so there were no more civilian deaths.

They also ruminated on what they had done. Some rationalised it.

"I was shooting down a street when suddenly a woman came out and casually began to cross the street with a child no older than 10," said Gunnery Sergeant John Merriman, another Gulf war veteran. "At first I froze on seeing the civilian woman. She then crossed back again with the child and went behind a wall. Within less than a minute a guy with an RPG came out and fired at us from behind the same wall. This happened a second time so I thought, 'Okay, I get it. Let her come out again'.

She did and this time I took her out with my M-16." Others were less sanguine.

Mike Brooks was one of the commanders who had given the order to shoot at civilian vehicles. It weighed on his mind, even though he felt he had no choice but to do everything to protect his marines from another ambush.

On Friday, making coffee in the dust, he told me he had been writing a diary, partly for his wife Kelly, a nurse at home in Jacksonville, North Carolina, with their sons Colin, 6, and four-year-old twins Brian and Evan.

When he came to jotting down the incident about the two babies getting killed by his men he couldn't do it. But he said he would tell her when he got home. I offered to let him call his wife on my satellite phone to tell her he was okay. He turned down the offer and had me write and send her an e-mail instead.

He was too emotional. If she heard his voice, he said, she would know that something was wrong.



http://www.timesonline.co.uk/article/0,,2089-628258,00.html


Sempers,

Roger

[thedrifter]

'You didn't fire a warning shot soon enough!' <br />
Posted on Tuesday, April 01 @ 19:05:05 EST by JohnBrown <br />
<br />
<br />
by Brian Whitaker, The Guardian <br />
April 1, 2003 <br />
<br />
A journalist's account of the killing...

[thedrifter]

War on Iraq : Marines Rage at Trigger Happy Yanks
Posted on Sunday, March 30 @ 19:43:44 EST by JohnBrown


by James Lyons, Sunday Mail [UK]
March 30, 2003

British blame heavy-handed U.S tactics for civilian deaths

A SENIOR British officer yesterday blamed heavy-handed American troops for the deaths of innocent Iraqis.

The astonishing outburst came as 42 Royal Marine Commando followed US troops into the devastated port of Umm Qasr.

In the first major split between coalition forces the officer, who asked not to be named, said locals were very wary when the Marines took over from their allies.

The officer said: "The US answered anything with a salvo of tank rounds or a major bombing.

"They were in their vehicles roaring down the road every time an angry shot rang out.

"They killed a lot of civilians as well."

The Marines have swapped their bullet-proof helmets for green berets as they attempt to build bridges with the people of Umm Qasr.

Days ago the US soldiers would not venture on to the streets of the southern Iraqi port without tanks.

Their security concerns contributed to the delay in bringing in aid from on- board the RFA Sir Galahad.

Yet within hours of arriving earlier this week, 42 Royal Marine Commando declared it safe after sweeping the area under the cover of darkness.

And after foot-patrols through the rubbish-strewn and damaged streets, the Marines are critical of the way their US allies behaved in the town.

One radioed his commander: "The locals here are just telling us what the Yanks have done - bombed the s*** out of everything."

Marine Liam Eley, 23, of Cardiff, said: "They crack a nut with a sledgehammer."

Body armour discarded along with the helmets, the Marines employ peace- keeping skills honed on a recent tour of duty.

Commanding officer Lt Colonel Buster Howes said: "We have drawn on our experience in Northern Ireland of dominating space without having to use force."

Marines stop to shake hands and chat through an interpreter with Iraqis of all ages during their regular patrols through town.

Minutes after leaving their base in the former United Nations compound yesterday morning they were presented with a young boy with a gunshot wound and Iraqi men searching for their missing sons.

They also face daily demands for food, cigarettes and water.

Overall, the atmosphere in the port town is still tense and senior officers admit there is little they could do to guard against a suicide attack like that carried out against US troops at a roadblock yesterday.

One said: "If they really wanted to attack they could do it. But they can't get away. If they are willing to die they could take us on."

Despite the peace-keeping, problems remain. Three nights ago, 15 leading members of Saddam Hussein's regime, including a general, were seized in a raid.

And yesterday morning Marines were called to a shooting which could have been connected to Saddam's Baath party.

Corporal Tyler Alldis, 26, from Newquay, said: "It was meant to be a dispute over who lives there.

"But we have heard from other people they have been bullying locals not to tell us where there are weapons."

With the help of friendly locals the marines are building a huge arsenal of weapons including surface to air missiles, rocket propelled grenades, rifles and pistols.

Fleeing Iraqi troops stashed them in buildings such as schools, with 150 grenades found in a single classroom.

Lt Col Howes said Baath party fanatics still remained in the area and they were "rooting them out" - although the threat they pose appears disputed by Marines.

Eley said: "I think we are perfectly safe. The only people with weapons now are fearing reprisals - it's got nothing to do with us."

But Alldis disagreed: "You can tell by looking at some of them they want to take you on.

"You can see they want to have you."

Nevertheless, the Marines are frustrated the capture of Al Faw in the first ground offensive may be their only taste of fighting.

Corporal John Rutherford, 25, of Portsmouth, said with so many British troops up near Basra few from 42 Commando expected to join them.

He added: "Apparently if you are sent back in after peacekeeping duties it messes with your head."



http://www.sundaymail.co.uk/news/page.cfm?objectid=12789696&method=full&
siteid=86024

Note: One radioed his commander: "The locals here are just telling us what the Yanks have done - bombed the s*** out of everything." Marine Liam Eley, 23, of Cardiff, said: "They crack a nut with a sledgehammer."

Sempers,

Roger

[firstsgtmike]

This is part of something I posted on the 24th of March.

"Every news report I have read contains the following disclaimer:

EDITOR'S NOTE: This report was written in accordance with Pentagon ground rules allowing so-called embedded reporting, in which journalists join deployed troops. Among the rules accepted by all participating news organizations is an agreement not to disclose sensitive operational details.

This tells me that the press releases are reviewed (censored). I can't believe that not one of the "reporters" was anti-war, anti-military. You cannot see this in their "approved" dispatches.

As an outsider, looking in on the human race, I'm curious as to what articles, books, and papers will be written by these embedded correspondents AFTER they are released from the Pentagon's ground rules.

"The Truth Can Now Be Told" by ...........(war correspondent).

(I'd make a fortune if I could reserve the rights to that title, and variations thereof.) "
----------------------------------------
1. It is interesting to note that the photographer and reporter in the lead article were working for the New York Times but this article only appeared in a French publication, La Monde.

To him, I would say that he has never seen the results of a six year old girl with a hot grenade in her hand walking up to a group of G.I.s. Or sat behind barbed perimeter wire as the enemy advanced, firing and tossing grenades while hiding behind women and children.

He should be given the opportunity, because it is still happening in Iraq to walk up to and check out any approaching suspicious group or vehicle. Let him be willing to take the first shots fired.

2. For the authors of both articles, and any similar ones that are sure to be forthcoming, I leave them with these truisms, which are as old as time itself.

In combat, altarboys and choirboys seldom survive to become veterans. Nor do those whose montra is "Love thy neighbor".

No soldier has ever killed another because of his love for mankind.

No army has ever gone to war unless they felt that god (or God) was on their side and that their cause was rightious.

In combat, if a mistake is to be made, it is better to remain alive to regret it.

To survive in combat, humanity must be overcome for the moment. For some, the keying up is a continuous process, and stays in place in anticipation of the next encounter. For others, it starts just before the squeezing of the trigger, and is temporarily put aside after the engagement is over.
------------------------------------
Sometimes, I think that the lucky ones are the ones who can put their humanity on hold until safely returning home, and thus can pick up their lives where they left them.

For other survivors, their sense of humanity becomes a curse, their cross to bear. To those unfortunates, those unmarked casualties, I would ask a question. If the situation that has marked your soul had ended differently, would your enemy have the same regrets as those you carry?

I've often wondered if the butchers we have fought against had the same percentage of veterans requiring confinement to psychiatric institutions and extensive psychiatric counseling?
------------------------------

When my childen come to me to report on something happening; (Daddy, Alex hit me.) My first question is "Why?" and if no reason is given, I send them back to find the answer.

I would ask those same embedded "reporters", "WHY?"

It is the answer to "why" which validates or invalidates an action.