Yesterday's Lies

By John Cory
t r u t h o u t | Perspective

Tuesday 08 January 2008

War is a waltz,
A dance with the Devil
On the bones of Angels.
- John Cory

On September 21, 2007, Sgt. Gerald Cassidy died - alone and forgotten in all the body counts and statistics of war, political polls and campaign strategies. He was unconscious for perhaps days before passing away like crumpled and discarded newsprint, barely noticed, simply brushed aside with yesterday's lies.

Sergeant Cassidy did not die in Iraq or Afghanistan. He died in America, at a new medical unit in Fort Knox - in America - where we support the troops, according to every single lapel-flag-pin-wearing politician and pundit on the airwaves, and yet, Sgt. Gerald Cassidy died neglected and unnoticed.

Shame on us.

Among headlines for that week were these gems: (taken from democracynow.org)

*"Report: Telecoms, White House Lobbying Congress to Dismiss Wiretap Suits"
*"Senate Rejects Anti-War Measure, Condemns MoveOn.org"
*"Bush Vows Child Health Insurance Bill Veto"

Our Senate was too busy creating more veterans and condemning free speech to notice Sgt. Gerald Cassidy. And our president was too busy stealing healthcare from children to have time for someone like Gerald Cassidy. It takes a lot of concentration to rob a child. Adults are easy.

My friend Remy at Welcome Home Soldier does tireless work on behalf of veterans, and she was so pained by the story about Sgt. Cassidy and this article VA Reports up to 30 Percent of Iraq and Afghanistan Veterans Suffer From TBIYesterday's Lies , she sent them to me and asked, "Why do we allow this kind of thing?" And being a true Louisiana belle, she began taking action. If you're looking for something to do about this issue - go join her.

A group of Vietnam vets from Charlie Company, 1/52nd 198th, posted talk on their forum about the January 2008 article in GQ magazine about PTSD. The article covers Vietnam, 9/11 and all that has followed in Iraq and Afghanistan and PTSD. The article is titled, "The Long Shadow of War" by Kathy Dobie.

And there it is - all the pain and death of yesterday's lies coming down hard in the winter storms of today.

As I browse through old pictures of my days in war, I find myself wanting to crawl inside a photograph or two just to touch and smell those wonderful faces and hear their voices again. And sometimes when I rub my fingers over a particular photo, I'm never sure which side of the picture I'm on. Am I looking in or looking out?

When Sergeant Cassidy died, he took another piece of America with him. How many more pieces can we lose before we become totally lost ourselves?

Yesterday's lies kill and wound our troops, and yet Congress, afraid to face the truth, continues to fund and support the great lie of war. So look closely, my friends, and ask yourselves, how it is that we manage to find increasing amounts of money for war but continue to reduce funds for the care of our wounded and suffering troops?

Shame on us.

Have we forgotten our promise to veterans, in Lincoln's words, "to care for him who shall have borne the battle and for his widow, and his orphan?" Are we so penny wise and pound foolish as to begrudgingly buy the bullets yet refuse to pay for the bread and bandages needed for the survivors? Or have we become so jaded that we view the flood of returning wounded as a burgeoning market in the for-profit healthcare industry with war as the ultimate profit generator?

In his farewell address, Gen. Douglas MacArthur spoke these words: "Duty, honor, country: Those three hallowed words reverently dictate what you ought to be, what you can be, what you will be. They are your rallying point to build courage when courage seems to fail, to regain faith when there seems to be little cause for faith, to create hope when hope becomes forlorn."

Those words were spoken to the cadets at West Point. But they are for us - the citizens of this great experiment in democracy. We should be equally obsessed with duty, honor and country not as a slogan, but as a call to action. There is no "us" or "them" - as though our troops are not part of our daily fabric of American life. It is and was from the beginning, "We the people." There is no differentiation between civilian and soldier.

Yes, it's election season and the race is capturing all the ink and airtime. I've said it before and I'll say it again - if you Democratic presidential candidates want my vote, then here is what you do:

Go to Dover AFB and don't tell me they won't let you in - you're Congressional members elected by "We the people," for cripes sake! Go to Dover and meet a plane of caskets and serve as pallbearers for the entire load. Carry them gently and with love for the price they have paid and send them home to their loved ones with a tear and a kiss.

Open your home or a community center somewhere and prepare a meal for several families who have lost their loved ones in this war, or who have wounded to tend to, and feed them the fresh baked bread of compassion and a warm supper of empathy and recognition for their fulfillment of duty, honor, country. Take their children in your arms and listen to them tell you how much they loved their daddy or mommy or uncle. And weep for yourselves that you never met them.

And do this all without cameras, campaign advisers and media consultants. We'll know about it - trust me. We will know. And if you're afraid, remember duty, honor, country as defined by General MacArthur, because it applies to you as well.

And then, by God, if you truly want my vote, you will go to Westfield, Indiana, and you will embrace the loved ones of Sgt. Gerald Cassidy and ask for their forgiveness on behalf of a grateful nation. And you will listen as they tell you all about him and show you their family photo album - not just the ones of him in uniform, but the boy and teenager, and the man who lived duty, honor, country. Then you will go to his graveside and place a wreath with the promise that you will never forget him. And on the ride back across the Indiana snow, you will write the beginning legislation that will never let this happen again: The Gerald Cassidy Veterans Bill.

That night as you drift off to sleep, you will hear the whispered lullaby: "War is a waltz, a dance with the Devil on the bones of Angels." And you will understand.

Then you can sleep the good sleep, knowing you have begun to put an end to yesterday's lies.



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John Cory is a Vietnam Veteran. He received the Purple Heart and Bronze Star with V device, 1969 - 1970.

So This Was Christmas

This isn't about the following song most know, some understand.

Happy Xmas (War Is Over)


A song I kept hearing, over and over each day almost hourly, as my coworkers wanted to listen to Christmas music at the jobsite, so we switched channels, and the canned programming played this a number of times. I kept wondering if there was a message there or if whoever made up the program list really knew what the song was about, or if it was just about Lennon singing about Christmas, much like the Reagan campaign took to 'Born in the USA' as their own, remember that, nobody apparently knowing the words to!

I got in a little hometown jam
And so they put a rifle in my hands
Sent me off to Vietnam
To go and kill the yellow man

[chorus]

Come back home to the refinery
Hiring man says "Son if it was up to me"
I go down to see the V.A. man
He said "Son don't you understand"

[chorus]

I had a buddy at Khe Sahn
Fighting off the Viet Cong
They're still there, he's all gone
He had a little girl in Saigon
I got a picture of him in her arms

Bruce Springsteen

This is about a perspective a fellow 'Nam Vet wrote for the Truthout site, and abit more, called So This Is Christmas.

John Cory, who wrote the perspective, is a Vietnam Veteran. He received the Purple Heart and Bronze Star with V device, 1969 - 1970. Visit his site, you might enjoy.

John starts out with this, posted on Christmas Day, another reason for the song and video:

"A very merry Christmas
And a happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear."

- John Lennon

Music is a powerful touchstone, so while you're reading this, put on "Happy Christmas (War is Over)." Let it play in the background.

I will leave out some of what John wrote, visit the link to read, but will put here a big chunk of my fellow 'Nam Vets thoughts on this Christmas 2007, the gifts, under the tree, of our present president to the Nation:

They are the gifts a president gives his country; his legacy and promise for the future, his servitude to "We the People" and his vision of America.

So here under the tree, dazzling and glossy in sateen bows and velvet ribbons are the gifts of this president:

Sparkle-laden paper wrapped around a box of Fear. The plastic paranoia sealed package contains all the colors of Fear from brown to yellow to pink and purple. A small booklet of instructions is included on how to apply Fear to every situation and person not "one of us," and how to brush on racism, homophobia and bigotry with the mascara of mendacity.

A flag-covered box of brightly painted brittle toy soldiers and game board, plus interchangeable body parts for when they get broken from too much rough play. Each toy soldier is hand-painted, unnumbered and anatomically neutered to withstand everything but real war. Families not included.

There is the whirring and buzzing latest techno must-have, self-injectable Micro-Thought Chip. A gift from your government to monitor your thoughts and ideas and provide auto electro-pulse correction should you waver from acceptable mind processes. A gift certificate is included for all your left-thinking friends. Let them embrace the light.

A small gossamer-covered box with one of those glass globes you shake to create a snow flurry - only this one encases "Democracy" and when you shake it, a crystal storm of red, white and blue flakes spins madly about until "Democracy" disappears.

And the last gift is a huge box with a thousand ribbons and bows and soft crinkle tissue paper taped and mangled together as though made by a child, but when you get it all unwrapped - it's empty. Or so you think. It is a box of sadness. A place for broken dreams of what has been lost. A place to store the faded Polaroid postcards of the America that once was. An empty box big enough to hold a heart full of holes from nearly 4,000 troops killed by the lies that cradle the deceit and treachery that sold a war for the benefit of the few who line their pockets with the lives of our loved ones. It's a big empty box that can hold the despair of 126 veterans who commit suicide every week in this country. Room enough for the 20 to 30 percent of troops returning from Iraq and Afghanistan with PTSD. But not big enough for a mother or father to crawl inside and rummage around for the touch and smell of the child killed or maimed in this war.

But there's one more, almost overlooked:

And then you spot it. The small package under the back branches of the tree, strings of tinsel dripping down and nearly covering the box. So tiny and forlorn. Not the same as the others. It looks so fragile, so precious. And you open it carefully, not ripping or tearing the paper while gingerly pulling the ribbon bows and lift the top off and then, wide-eyed, you smile. It's stunning. It makes you giggle and tremble at the same time. You search for the card, but there is none.

You'll have to vist Johns Perspective to find out what's in this last gift, a gift I doubt was left by you know who!

Now during the Holiday grab fest of materialistic items, at a Mall in Madison Wisconsin, a small group of Pro-Peace activists were giving respect, by reading the names of those killed in the Iraq Debacle, Military and Civilian, as we approarched the day we celebrate as the Birth of The Prince of Peace, the baby Jesus.



Now in the video these activists mention that some of the parents they encountered weren't to happy with what they were doing and stated that this small group were Scaring their small children.

My guess would be that at least a few of these children were thinking "Right mom or dad, this group is Scaring us! Now how about the little children of Iraq as the Bombs are Dropping or the Artillery and others Weapons are fired, or living in a Country being Destroyed, Don't You Think These 'Children' Were Scared, Freightened"!

You see, no matter where adults exist in this world, Kids are pretty damn smart and figured out already that many Adults just plain don't make sense, no matter their education!

Lets hope more kids develope their inner gifts, common sense, critical thought, intelligence, much better than the Adults around them that allowed these gifts to just fade away, never to return!