An ex-Marine myself, it's plain to me that Mickey Z knows nothing and is capable of understanding still less of what it means to be a soldier. That's no insult. It's just a fact that people who've never been brutalized and regimented can have no understanding of people who HAVE been brutalized and regimented. Might as well expect them to understand what life is like 300 feet beneath the surface of Jupiter.

To those of us who have been brutalized and regimented (they call it "trained" in polite society) the worst of the know-nothings are those who walk around preaching "I would NEVER" do this, that, or the other seemingly criminal thing that trained soldiers are variously accused of doing. In reply to their smug ignorance I can only say: "I once knew a drill instructor who could make you do anything and do it eagerly, at his command. Your problem is that you've never been handled by intelligent, professional sadists who employ proven methods toward a well defined goal and are answerable to nobody who gives a shit about you."

Short of sending you to Marine Corps boot camp to learn for yourself the truth of what I say, I can offer you a few words from Rudyard Kipling, who today is reviled as a racist but who knew, nevertheless, and wrote plain enough of what it means to be a soldier:

Tommy

I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer,
The publican 'e up an' sez, "We serve no red-coats here."
The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die,
I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I:
O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away";
But it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play,
The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
O it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play.

I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me;
They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls,
But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls!
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, wait outside";
But it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide,
The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide,
O it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide.

Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap;
An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit
Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit.
Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, 'ow's yer soul?"
But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll,
The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
O it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll.

We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too,
But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you;
An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints,
Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints;
While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, fall be'ind",
But it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind,
There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind,
O it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind.

You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires, an' all:
We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.
Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face
The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace.
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Chuck him out, the brute!"
But it's "Saviour of 'is country" when the guns begin to shoot;
An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please;
An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool -- you bet that Tommy sees!

Note especially the next-to-last verse, which begins: "We aren't no thin red 'eroes. . . ." And if that isn't plain enough I'll cite Gustav Hasford, who once wrote: "In Vietnam you have to hate someone or you will go insane."

Nobody who serves in the ranks should EVER be accused of or prosecuted for so-called "war crimes." The perpetrators of "war crimes" are ALWAYS those who sent the men to war. You want to prosecute somebody, prosecute them. Leave Tommy Atkins and Mac Marine alone. For however much you despise some of the things they may have done, they are better men than you.

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