Please use the link provided below to allow you to read the entire piece. Because it is a graphic, I can't make it entirely legible otherwise.
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1204317/British-soldier-writes-Rudyard-Kipling-poem-damning-attack-conditions.html
A “gimpy” is a general purpose machine gun.Over a century after the British first tried to bring their version of civilization to the various tribes and cultures that have never quite achieved nation status; they and we are engaged in the same process. That we call it “nation building” instead of colonialism makes little difference. We’re trying to import western style government and social structures into a place that does not understand or want them. The national government in Kabul is regarded by the tribes in rural Afghanistan as corrupt and sectarian as opposed to Islamic in nature. The Taliban, who previously held national power until driven from supremacy by the early months of the current US incursion, are Islamic fundamentalists and control much of the hinterlands by means of popular support or by means of threats to and attacks upon the populace in the tribal areas. Support for equal rights for women, education for women, land reform, and even freedom of religion, was initially voiced by the People’s Democratic Party of Afghanistan which took power in 1978. This pro-Soviet government was not popular with the U.S., which under the Carter administration began a program of destabilization. Nor was it popular with the tribes in the rural provinces. The tribal leaders preferred Sharia law to secular law, and had then, as now, no interest in land reform, education for women, or any equality of women under law or culture. In December of 1979, the Soviet Union invaded Afghanistan under a dubious support treaty’s authority. Afghanistan has been essentially without government beyond Kabul since then. The tribes still prefer the culture and social structure that allows an Islamic state akin in nature to those of the Caliphate.
There is little any western nation or western agencies can do to change the nature of Afghanistan. We’re pouring money and lives into a vast political and military sink hole. It is time to bring our troops and those of our few remaining allies home. Afghanistan will either stand on its own or fail. The odds are that it will fail, becoming another failed nation like Somalia, Haiti, Sudan, and soon, Iraq. We can’t rescue these states and we can’t prevent their descent into pits of inhumanity and constant conflict.
Kipling voiced the Tommies’ knowledge of a reality their political bosses failed to grasp in the Anglo-Afghani wars. This anonymous Tommy voices that same failure and disconnect in today’s war.
I’ll keep looking to see if I can find similar understanding in the writings of the men and women who make up our armed forces. Certainly there is a disconnect between the bulk of the populace and the war that is still Bush/Cheney’s for a few weeks longer. Obama has the chance to disengage from our current war with Afghanistan, one that will bring us nothing but lost lives and more debt. Or he can decide to engage in futile nation building and expend the lives of our troops to no real end, in a failing state that’s population does not want us there. I’ve made my opinion known to the White House. All of you should as well. I’ll make it easy for you to do so:
http://www.whitehouse.gov/CONTACT/
So that you can see how well the anonymous soldier understood Kipling, here’s the original.
The Young British Soldier - Rudyard Kipling
When the 'arf-made recruity goes out to the East
'E acts like a babe an' 'e drinks like a beast,
An' 'e wonders because 'e is frequent deceased
Ere 'e's fit for to serve as a soldier.
Serve, serve, serve as a soldier,
Serve, serve, serve as a soldier,
Serve, serve, serve as a soldier,
So-oldier ~OF~ the Queen!
Now all you recruities what's drafted to-day,
You shut up your rag-box an' 'ark to my lay,
An' I'll sing you a soldier as far as I may:
A soldier what's fit for a soldier.
Fit, fit, fit for a soldier . . .
First mind you steer clear o' the grog-sellers' huts,
For they sell you Fixed Bay'nets that rots out your guts --
Ay, drink that 'ud eat the live steel from your butts --
An' it's bad for the young British soldier.
Bad, bad, bad for the soldier . . .
When the cholera comes -- as it will past a doubt --
Keep out of the wet and don't go on the shout,
For the sickness gets in as the liquor dies out,
An' it crumples the young British soldier.
Crum-, crum-, crumples the soldier . . .
But the worst o' your foes is the sun over'ead:
You ~must~ wear your 'elmet for all that is said:
If 'e finds you uncovered 'e'll knock you down dead,
An' you'll die like a fool of a soldier.
Fool, fool, fool of a soldier . . .
If you're cast for fatigue by a sergeant unkind,
Don't grouse like a woman nor crack on nor blind;
Be handy and civil, and then you will find
That it's beer for the young British soldier.
Beer, beer, beer for the soldier . . .
Now, if you must marry, take care she is old --
A troop-sergeant's widow's the nicest I'm told,
For beauty won't help if your rations is cold,
Nor love ain't enough for a soldier.
'Nough, 'nough, 'nough for a soldier . . .
If the wife should go wrong with a comrade, be loath
To shoot when you catch 'em -- you'll swing, on my oath! --
Make 'im take 'er and keep 'er: that's Hell for them both,
An' you're shut o' the curse of a soldier.
Curse, curse, curse of a soldier . . .
When first under fire an' you're wishful to duck,
Don't look nor take 'eed at the man that is struck,
Be thankful you're livin', and trust to your luck
And march to your front like a soldier.
Front, front, front like a soldier . . .
When 'arf of your bullets fly wide in the ditch,
Don't call your Martini a cross-eyed old bitch;
She's human as you are -- you treat her as sich,
An' she'll fight for the young British soldier.
Fight, fight, fight for the soldier . . .
When shakin' their bustles like ladies so fine,
The guns o' the enemy wheel into line,
Shoot low at the limbers an' don't mind the shine,
For noise never startles the soldier.
Start-, start-, startles the soldier . . .
If your officer's dead and the sergeants look white,
Remember it's ruin to run from a fight:
So take open order, lie down, and sit tight,
And wait for supports like a soldier.
Wait, wait, wait like a soldier . . .
When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains,
And the women come out to cut up what remains,
Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains
An' go to your Gawd like a soldier.
Go, go, go like a soldier,
Go, go, go like a soldier,
Go, go, go like a soldier,
So-oldier ~of~ the Queen!
A Martini, in this instance, describes a service rifle used by the British Army.
http://www.martinihenry.com/
The forecast rains arrived at 1000 today. The temperature has fallen 8 degrees F since 0730. It should bottom out around 40 F. We’re scheduled to go dancing tonight. That always fills me with trepidation although I generally have fun when all is said and done. I suppose it is as much fear of embarrassing myself by missing or failing to properly execute the instruction calls, or to learn them rapidly enough. I still have the social skills of a musician who played for others to dance rather than those that would allow me to become a good dancer.
I’m a bit concerned about the trip back tomorrow. With I-40 closed and traffic detouring to I-26 > I-81, it may be that truckers will choose to run the TN 81>TN 107. US 11 E route that is a shorter but much narrower 2 lane stretch that would route them through the Nolichucky Gorge at its narrowest and most curvy portion of TN 81. A semi driver overturned on that stretch the other night, and was killed. I’d bet excessive speed was a primary factor. The teen ager ejected from the car noted earlier this week died. A memorial was up by the road Thursday. No lessons learned.
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And last, also in lessons not learned, I’ve been complaining about color in my photos. Today I finally noticed an incorrect setting that somehow has been escaping my notice.
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