BREAKING NEWS: 3 more NZ soldiers dead
NZ soldiers killed in Afghanistan Three New Zealand soldiers serving with the Provincial Reconstruction Team in Bamyan have been killed in Afghanistan.
'Provincial Reconstruction Team' makes them all sound like they are docile engineers building schools and drilling wells while excited locals cheer doesn't it? They are soldiers in armored vehicles, we are not reconstructing anything here.
There is no military solution in Afghanistan - this occupation has failed and the coffins are filling. There is no honour in propping up a corrupt narco state to ingratiate ourselves to the United States for a misdirected war of terrorism.
John Key used his sons baseball game in America as a reason to not attend the last funeral because his son had sacrificed so much. Let's hope the Prime Minister can find as much time as he does when using the military as personal transport to attend this funeral for those who have suffered the ultimate sacrifice for a war he has recommitted us to.
As I do every time we lose a soldier, here is James K Baxter's poem that sums up the contempt we should feel towards our political leaders who are so quick and gung ho to commit NZers to war...
The Gunner's Lament
A Maori gunner lay dying
In a paddyfield north of Saigon,
And he said to his pakeha cobber,
"I reckon I've had it, man!
'And if I could fly like a bird
To my old granny's whare
A truck and a winch would never drag
Me back to the Army.
'A coat and a cap and a well-paid job
Looked better than shovelling metal,
And they told me that Te Rauparaha
Would have fought in the Vietnam battle.
'On my last leave the town swung round
Like a bucket full of eels.
The girls liked the uniform
And I liked the girls.
'Like a bullock to the abattoirs
In the name of liberty
They flew me with a hangover
Across the Tasman Sea,
'And what I found in Vietnam
Was mud and blood and fire,
With the Yanks and the Reds taking turns
At murdering the poor.
'And I saw the reason for it
In a Viet Cong's blazing eyes -
We fought for the crops of kumara
And they are fighting for the rice.
'So go tell my sweetheart
To get another boy
Who'll cuddle her and marry her
And laugh when the bugles blow,
'And tell my youngest brother
He can have my shotgun
To fire at the ducks on the big lagoon,
But not to aim it at a man,
'And tell my granny to wear black
And carry a willow leaf,
Because the kid she kept from the cold
Has eaten a dead man's loaf.
'And go and tell Keith Holyoake
Sitting in Wellington,
However long he scrubs his hands
He'll never get them clean.'
James K Baxter
We need to put morality over impressing America and get out of this war now.