Dulce et decorum est--

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.


Gas! GAS! Quick, boys! - An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime...
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.


In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.


If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues, -
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.


--Wilfred Owen

So I start here with the age-old shudder against war, the horrors and terrors and murder thereof, and the bitterness and dissatisfation and loathing. And this is a damn good place to start. I'll start with the slim, too-skinny volume of Wilfred Owen's collected works. I'll gloss over all other wars, of which veterans and the protestors thereof can talk longaday. And I'll just fixate on this one. The wrong one.

Before it took form it was a protest. It began with people in the street, feeling it coming, knowing it was planned, and they talked. They acted. And there were people who noticed--but what happened?

Some doubted the Iraq/Al Qaeda link.

Some suspected there were no WMDs. (And were slowly found to be correct, as info became available.

And some just knew it was rush to war--wrong from the start, a reaction from a government that wants targets, wanted to see something done.

And here we are, five years out. Still there. Still protesting.



Even grannies.

People can say "freedom isn't free"--and it's not. It is won by people, fighting for themselves. Iraqis did not overthrow Saddam--we did. They did not decide on their democracy--we insisted. People can say they felt there was a danger--but where was the proof? They can say we should not surrender--but to whom would we be surrendering? The Al Qaeda in Iraq is a name to piss us off, more than anything. The US has seen the capture and death of Saddam Hussein, and the death of his sons and probable heirs if things continued as they were. The US has collapsed the infrastructure, blown the utilities, caused the internal flight of a million or more (or rather, the war-caused instability has--can we undo that?). Does this broken nation haunt us--threaten to follow us? Do we think ourselves weaker than them, imagine we did not already win? Can we suppose our continued involvment, as more than a diplomatic force, will be especially effective? To do what?

With every passing day, the questions endure. Why did we invade? (Not for the stated reasons). Why do we persist there? (Despite the stated reasons being lies.) What can be gained? (We already got Saddam.) What can be salvaged? (How can the Iraqi people get their own lives back--be post-war? Recover? Find their own democracy?)

For those that have lost their lives, my condolences to their families. For those that have have been injured, my fond respects for having served your country. For those that continue to serve, every wish for your safety and success--but for those whose business it is to decide--decide.

And damn it all--what is the cost? In lives? In dollars? We are the nation set on a hill. We should be the example of right. Not the example of might, despite right. It's just my opinion. I'm no foreign policy expert, just a blogger. But I have a lot of questions about things. And I know I am not alone.