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Meat and Empire
The pig-raising factories of Smithfield Farms stretch from Mexico to Rumania and back to home sty in North Carolina, where swine flu first mutated. Viewing Earth from outer space an alien ecologist might conclude cows are the dominant species of our planet. Alexander Cockburn on the conquest landscapes of the meat-producers. Nanotechnologies, say their boosters, are changing the way people think about the future. They rush to buy nano-products. But how safe are they? Steven Higgs has a chastening message for us. And Senator James Abourezk concludes his vivid “Adventures in Indian Country”, with the story of the occupation of Wounded Knee. Yes, he was there and he was one scared senator. Get your new edition today by subscribing online or calling 1-800-840-3683 Contributions to CounterPunch are tax-deductible. Click here to make a donation. If you find our site useful please: Subscribe Now! CounterPunch books and gear make great presents.
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Today's Stories May 19, 2009 Ray McGovern Vijay Prashad May 18, 2009 Dave Lindorff Abdul Malik Mujahid Jonathan Cook Ben Rosenfeld Patrick Cockburn Ralph Nader Stephen Soldz Eugenia Tsao Walter Brasch Roberto Rodriguez Charlotte Laws Website of the Day May 15-17, 2009 Alexander Cockburn Jeffrey St. Clair David Rosen Mike Whitney Bruce Page Jeremy Scahill Fred Gardner Tom Barry Mats Svensson Ramzy Baroud Mark Engler Mark Weisbrot Farzana Versey Ron Jacobs Hannah Wolfe Cal Winslow David Macaray Christopher Brauchli Mark Seth Lender Robert Fantina David Ker Thomson Stephen Martin Charles R. Larson Chase Madar Kim Nicolini David Yearsley Lorenzo Wolff Poets' Basement Website of the Weekend May 14, 2009 Michael Hudson Andy Worthington Paul Craig Roberts Jonathan Cook Ray McGovern Lance Selfa David Green Dave Lindorff Frida Berrigan Sue Udry Website of the Day May 13, 2009 Brian M. Downing Gareth Porter Robert Sandels Ricardo Alarcón Eric Walberg Dave Lindorff Deepak Tripathi William S. Lind Kevin Zeese Franklin Lamb Website of the Day May 12, 2009 Gary Leupp Richard Neville Wajahat Ali Dean Baker Franklin Lamb Norman Solomon Paul Craig Roberts Lisa M. Hamilton Bob Fitrakis / David Macaray Website of the Day May 11, 2009 Andrea Peacock Michael Hudson Patrick Cockburn Ralph Nader John Kelly Saul Landau Dave Lindorff David Michael Green Anthony Papa Paul Krassner Website of the Day May 8-10, 2009 Alexander Cockburn Jeffrey St. Clair Paul Wolf Steve Niva Neve Gordon Mike Whitney Warren Hinckle Serge Halimi Gareth Porter Sharon Smith Andy Worthington Mark Weisbrot Rosa Miriam Elizalde Cyber Command and Cyber Dissident: More of the Same? David Macaray Missy Beattie Ron Jacobs Diane Farsetta Ramzy Baroud Phelie Maguire Robert Fantina Kevin Zeese Margaret Flowers, MD Dave Lindorff Richard Rhames Ben Sonnenberg Kim Nicolini Stephen Martin Charles R. Larson David Yearsley Lorenzo Wolff Poets' Basement Website of the Weekend May 7, 2009 Paul Craig Roberts Chris Floyd Andy Worthington Alan Farago Ray McGovern Dave Lindorff Eric Toussaint / Ana M. Malinow, MD Jeff Armstrong Norman Solomon Website of the Day May 6, 2009 Doug Peacock Patrick Cockburn Richard Neville Manuel Garcia, Jr. Winslow T. Wheeler Deepak Tripathi Stephen Soldz Reuven Kaminer David Macaray Kevin Zeese Marjorie Cohn Coalition for an Ethical Psychology Website of the Day
May 5, 2009 William Blum Uri Avnery Steven Higgs Dean Baker Daniel Wolff Sibel Edmonds Carole King Klein Fidel Castro Belén Fernández Dan Bacher Website of the Day May 4, 2009 James G. Abourezk Jeff Leys Patrick Cockburn Andy Worthington Jaime Avilés David Swanson Paul Craig Roberts P. Sainath Eugenia Tsao Benjamin Dangl Sami Al-Arian Website of the Day May 1 - 3, 2009 Alexander Cockburn Gary Leupp Peter Linebaugh Jeffrey St. Clair / C. G. Estabrook Patrick Cockburn Mike Whitney Pierre Sprey / Andy Worthington Mairead Maguire Nadia Hijab Diane Farsetta Michael Calderón-Zaks Richard Rhames Russell Mokhiber Ramzy Baroud Rannie Amiri Deb Reich Steven Higgs Brian Cloughley David Michael Green Farzana Versey Jim Goodman Carl Finamore Christopher Brauchli Susie Day David Yearsley Lorenzo Wolff Peter Stone Brown Poets' Basement Dominguez, Orloski and Springate Website of the Weekend April 30, 2009 Ellen Cantarow Dana L. Cloud Paul W. Lovinger / Binoy Kampmark Brian Downing Frank Snepp David Swanson Conn Hallinan Ron Jacobs John Goekler Jasmine L. Tyler / Website of the Day April 29, 2009 Joann Wypijewski Patrick Cockburn Andy Worthington Chris Floyd Dave Lindorff Jeremy Scahill Doug Henwood Michael Hudson Russell Mokhiber Eric Toussaint Website of the Day April 28, 2009 Uri Avnery Jeremy Scahill Dean Baker Michael D. Yates Conn Hallinan John Stauber Tom Barry Harvey Wasserman Jeff Nygaard Frederico Fuentes Website of the Day April 27, 2009 Pam Martens Patrick Cockburn Andrew J. Bacevich Guardian of the Status Quo: Obama's Sins of Omission Mitu Sengupta Franklin Lamb Firmin DeBrabander Dave Lindorff Russell Mokhiber Mike Whitney Mark Weisbrot Rev. José M. Tirado Website of the Day April 24-26, 2009 Alexander Cockburn Marjorie Cohn Andy Worthington Jeremy Scahill Chris Floyd Mike Whitney Anthony DiMaggio Chris Kromm Saul Landau Dave Lindorff Greg Moses Joshua Frank Fred Gardner Manuel Garcia, Jr. David Michael Green Ramzy Baroud Rannie Amiri Laura Carlsen Richard Morse Nikolas Kozloff Kent Peterson Robert Bryce Niranjan Ramakrishnan The Financial Experts Ron Jacobs Richard Rhames Stephen Martin David Yearsley Poets' Basement Website of the Weekend April 23, 2009 Eamonn Fingleton Ray McGovern Michael Ratner Alan Farago Rob Larson Nadia Hijab Fawzia Afzal-Khan Dave Lindorff Helen Redmond Adam Federman Website of the Day April 22, 2009 Chris Floyd Joanne Mariner Vijay Prashad Gareth Porter Dean Baker Peter Morici Winslow T. Wheeler Barucha Calamity Peller Harvey Wasserman Aisha Brown / Teo Ballvé Website of the Day April 21, 2009 Randy Rowland Dave Lindorff Fidel Castro George McGovern Greg Moses Benjamin Dangl Sonia Nettnin Frank Barat Binoy Kampmark John V. Walsh David Macaray Website of the Day April 20, 2009 Mike Whitney Andrea Peacock Henry A. Giroux Liaquat Ali Khan Fred Gardner Stephen Soldz Nadia Hijab Dave Lindorff P. Sainath Nelson P Valdés Mark Engler Belén Fernández Website of the Day
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May 19, 2009 A Soldier's TaleCheck Point IraqBy KRISTOFFER REHDER I don’t remember how old I was when my father asked me this peculiar question, maybe sometime during my high school years. And I don’t know why he asked me or how it came up in conversation, but when it did, it hit me like a brick. “How many dying boys have you held in your arms, crying for their mother?” To this day I have never held anyone dying in my arms, and no one crying for their mother. I don’t remember how I answered his question. I was dumb founded. My father fought in the Vietnam War. He was an Infantry Scout Dog handler where he walked the point man with his German Sheppard, Beau. They led they way and looked for Charlie, ambushes, booby traps, tunnels, and weapon caches. My father and Beau were a team. They walked out in front of the patrol and Beau would alert my father if he smelled trouble ahead. The lives of the men they were leading through the jungles of South Vietnam were in theirs’ to protect. Years later after my father asked me this disturbing question, he explained what had happened to him years ago in Vietnam. One day my father and Beau were leading a patrol through the jungle, when Beau threw up a signal to my father that he smelled danger, so he signaled for the patrol to halt. The Lieutenant ran up front and asked why “his” patrol had stopped. My father explained to the LT that his dog had alerted him that there was something ahead to be cautious of. The LT became angry, “That’s bullshit, this area has been cleared. Charlie hasn’t been in the AO for days,” the LT then ordered them continue on with the mission. Against my father’s better judgment he continued to lead the patrol deeper into the jungle. Within a few minutes they walked right into a heavy ambush. Beau had been right. The patrol was pinned down and had to fight their way out of it. They were able to break contact with the enemy and pull back to safety. However, during the firefight, a soldier in the squad took a bullet to the lower stomach and was bleeding fast. This young soldier happened to be a good friend of my father. Seeing his wounded buddy, he ran over to him yelling for a medic to come and assist. The soldier was lying on the ground, holding his guts in his hands, crying out for his mother. All my father could do was hold his friend and provided what comfort he could as he died in his arms. After my father told me this experience, he confessed that he still felt guilty for this young man’s life. He said he wished he could have tried to convince the LT not to continue the patrol any further. Maybe there was more my father could have done. In my father’s face I could see the heavy guilt and anger as a tear rolled down his cheek. Right then I knew that my father had just shared something with me that he probably hasn’t shared with too many others. I didn’t know what to say. But I did gain a better answer as to why he asked me that question years ago. As I mentioned, I have never held anyone dying in my arms crying for their mother. So the answer to my Dad is no I have never experienced that. But let me ask you this Dad, how many nine year old boys have you held in your arms, crying for their father? How about a boy clinging to his lifeless father that you just killed? In the summer of 2003, I was working a check point outside the small city of Al-Hawija in Northern Iraq. I was in the Army, in the Infantry, just like my father was, but instead of patrolling the humid jungles of Vietnam, I was fighting an urban guerilla war in the extreme heat and sand of Iraq. Our check point was set up outside of town and we were stopping every vehicle trying to enter. We were searching the vehicles for weapons, explosives, suspected bad guys, stuff to build IED’s, and other contraband. Our check point looked like this: 300 meters out we had a warning sign written in Arabic that said, “Slow Down. Prepare to Stop!” 150 meters out we had another sign that said, “Deadly Force will be used if you do not stop!” We then had a maze of concerinta wire set up for the vehicles to weave in and out of before coming to a stop in an area that we nicknamed the “pit”. In the pit we searched the vehicles, and when nothing was found and they were clean, we waved them on, and allowed them to enter the city. On that summer day back in 2003, my squad was manning the check point into Hawija. It was a slow day with not much traffic. I think it had something to do with the mid afternoon heat. When the temperatures reached over 130 degrees, most of the Iraqis wisely stayed inside and off the roads. Most traveled at night when it was cooler. But a one vehicle approached our check point. So I peered through a pair of binoculars and spotted a small white Toyota pick-up truck heading towards our position. I put the binos down and raised my weapon to the ready position. The white truck approached the first warning sign, but did not attempt to slow down. My squad leader ordered a warning shot to be fired as a sign of force, so the man next to me fired off a three round burst with his M-16 over the top of the truck. The truck was not slowing down. It soon approached the 150 meter second warning sign. Fearing that the truck could be loaded down with explosives on a suicide run, our squad leader ordered everyone to open fire on the truck. I raised my weapon and put 30 rounds into the driver’s side windshield. The man next to me with the M-240B machine gun opened fire and sprayed about 150 rounds into the vehicle’s engine. With each bullet weighing 180 grains, he put about a pound of lead into its engine block. Black smoke started to billow out from under the hood, as the little truck started to swerve back and forth. It ran into our concertina wire and eventually came to a stop inside the pit. Immediately I slammed in a flesh magazine and fired off a few more rounds into the driver side door. Our squad leader then yelled for a seize fire. The firing stopped but my adrenaline was still pumping. The driver of the truck was hanging out the driver side door, hunched over. Blood was running out of his head, chest, and arms, turning the side of the truck a dark liquid maroon. A squad member opened the driver side door, and his body fell to the ground. I can still hear the thud it made as he rolled out of the truck. Wildly, the passenger side door flew open, and I saw a young boy, eight or nine years old, jump out and run around the front of the truck. He dove on top of the bullet riddled body, screaming and crying, all in Arabic so I am not certian what was being said. All I could do was watch in horror. As it turned out, the driver was the boy’s father. Fortunately thee boy was not injured as we all fired our shots into the driver’s side of the truck. The boy was wailing hysterically holding onto his dead father. He was now covered in his father’s blood and it took 3 of us to pry him away. We managed to drag the boy from his father’s body and over to one of our Humvees. We held the boy so he couldn’t see his father lying on the ground in a pool of blood. Our medic walked over to the body to check it out. There was nothing the medic could do. The damage had been done. The medic just stood over the body and kicked it a few times and then flung his arms up into the air, telling us, “fuck this!” We all knew he was dead. I don’t think you could count all the bullet holes in his body. They loaded the young boy into the Humvee and drove him off. To where, I don’t know. I never saw the boy again. We spent the rest of the afternoon trying to clean up the carnage. We packed the father’s body into a body bag and tossed it into the back of another Humvee like it was a old bag of trash. Where they took him, I also don’t know. I never asked where they took the bodies after we killed them. I really didn’t care either. My job was just to kill. The rest was up to someone else. I don’t know whose job was worse. Next, we had to figure out what to do with the truck. It was completely disabled and the inside of it was covered with blood and chunks of flesh. No one wanted to climb into the truck, so we called in the mechanics and they towed it out of our check point. Later on the mechanics told us after checking over the truck that the breaks were broken. The truck wasn’t trying to run our check point, it just couldn’t stop. It turned out just to be a father and son coming back into town after what had to be a grueling day working out in their watermelon fields. The back of their truck was full of watermelons and shovels. Maybe they were on their way into town to sell their melons at the market and perhaps make enough money to get the breaks on their truck fixed. Could this shootout have been avoided? I don’t know. Myself, and the others in my squad were just following orders. We were ordered to open fire on the truck, and we were just doing our job. A job that was illegally ordered by a Congress and White House without any recognition of international law, let alone humanity. How were we to know if the white Toyota truck wasn’t loaded with explosives, ready to blow us all up. And how were we to know that the truck was just a father and son coming back from their fields and that the breaks on their truck were faulty? And how to you explain this to the young boy who watched his innocent father be killed by American Forces occupying his country? That was over five years ago, making him a teenager by now. Maybe he will be driving a white Toyota pickup truck tomorrow, approaching a collation check point somewhere in Iraq. And I can damn sure bet you that he won’t be hauling watermelons. Kristoffer Rehder was first deployed to Kirkuk, Iraq in 2003 where he served in the 4th Infantry Division, 1-12 Infantry Battalion for 13 months. In 2005 he was redeployed to Iraq for an additional 400 days despite being classified as 50% disabled by the Veteran's Administration Hospital in Minnesota for severe PTSD, hearing loss and bad knees. He now lives in Montana and can be reached at KRehder@carroll.edu |
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