Rss

  • stumble
  • youtube
  • linkedin

Got His Gun – Lost His Legs, Arms and Penis #mustread #bookreview

Tuesday, 29 October 2013 09:30By David SwansonWar Is a Crime |

Ann Jones’ new book, They Were Soldiers: How the Wounded Return from America’s Wars — The Untold Story, is devastating, and almost incomprehensibly so when one considers that virtually all of the death and destruction in U.S. wars is on the other side. Statistically, what happens to U.S. troops is almost nothing.  In human terms, it’s overwhelming.

Know a young person considering joining the military? Give them this book.

Know a person not working to end war? Give them this book.

Jones presents the choice before us in the clearest terms in the introduction:

“Contrary to common opinion in the United States, war is not inevitable.  Nor has it always been with us.  War is a human invention — an organized, deliberate action of an anti-social kind — and in the long span of human life on Earth, a fairly recent one.  For more than 99 percent of the time that humans have lived on this planet, most of them have never made war.  Many languages don’t even have a word for it.  Turn off CNN and read anthropology.  You’ll see.

“What’s more, war is obsolete.  Most nations don’t make war anymore, except when coerced by the United States to join some spurious ‘coalition.’  The earth is so small, and our time here so short.  No other nation on the planet makes war as often, as long, as forcefully, as expensively, as destructively, as wastefully, as senselessly, or as unsuccessfully as the United States.  No other nation makes war its business.”

Jones begins her book with that distinguishing feature of war: death.  The U.S. military assigns specialists in “Mortuary Affairs” to dispose of the dead.  They dispose of their own sanity in the process.  And first they dispose of their appetite.  “Broiled meat in the chow hall smells much the same as any charred Marine, and you may carry the smell of the dead on a stained cuff as you raise a fork to your mouth, only to quickly put it down.”  Much of the dead is — like the slop at the chow hall — unrecognizable meat.  Once dumped in landfills, until a Washington Post story made that a scandal, now it’s dumped at sea.  Much of the dead is the result of suicides.  Mortuary Affairs scrubs the brains out of the port-o-potty and removes the rifle, so other troops don’t have to see.

Then come, in vastly greater numbers, the wounded — Jones’ chapter two.  A surgeon tells her that in Iraq the U.S. troops “had severe injuries, but the injuries were still on the body.”  In Afghanistan, troops step on mines and IEDs while walking, not driving.  Some are literally blown to bits.  Others can be picked up in recognizable pieces.  Others survive.  But many survive without one or two legs, one or two testicles, a penis, an arm, both arms — or with a brain injury, or a ruined face, or all of the above.  A doctor describes the emotion for a surgical team the first time they have to remove a penis and “watch it go into the surgical waste container.”

“By early 2012,” Jones writes, “3,000 [U.S.] had been killed by IEDs in Iraq and Afghanistan, and 31,394 wounded.  Among the wounded were more than 1,800 with severe damage to their genitals.”  Doctors treat an injured soldier’s limbs first, later their genitals, later still their brains.

Back in the states, two young parents and “two pretty adolescent girls,” step up “to sit on the padded platforms in the center of the room.  They move with the tentative sobriety of shock.  Aides wheel in a gurney that bears a bundle in a flannel sheet.  They gather the edges of the sheet and swing the package over the platform into the very heart of the family.  Carefully they lower it and then begin to peel away the wrapping.  There, revealed, restored to the family, is the son, their boy, not dead, but missing both arms, both legs, and some part — it’s impossible to tell how much — of his lower torso.  The director calls out a cheery greeting, ‘Hi Bobby! How are you doing today?’ Bobby tries to answer but makes no sound. He flops on the platform, an emaciated head, eyes full of fear, his chest all bones under a damp grey ARMY tee shirt. . . . ”

Be all that you can be.

In training you’re ordered into a poison gas chamber and

Read rroe here–  http://truth-out.org/opinion/item/19682-got-his-gun-lost-his-legs-arms-and-penis

 

Enhanced by Zemanta

Related posts

Leave a Reply

%d bloggers like this: