Secc Vs Sgcc Computer

How the U.S. military I became a terrorist

Aaron Glantz / Michael Prysner

ICH / Alternet

Rebellion Translated from English by Leyens Germain

In March this year, a courageous group Veterans helped to understand what the war in a historic event held in Silver Spring, Md., inspired by Vietnam veterans a generation earlier. "Winter Soldier: Iraq and Afghanistan" convened more than 200 soldiers who have served in the so-called "War on Terror." As fellow soldiers before them, who shared stories that laid bare the nightmare of Vietnam, these veterans testified about the crimes that were committed on behalf of Americans during the occupation of Iraq and Afghanistan. The hearings lasted four days, in their testimony, soldiers described how the discarding of the rules of engagement of the armed forces and its systematic dehumanization of Iraqi and Afghan civilians has led to horrible acts of violence against men, women and innocent children. "These are not isolated incidents," was a common refrain, even as the episodes they described seemed exceptionally brutal. For many veterans, it was the first time they had told their stories.

Now, the searing testimony has been compiled in an important new book: "Winter Soldier: Iraq and Afghanistan: Eyewitness Accounts of the Occupation" [Winter Soldier, Iraq and Afghanistan: Stories from the occupation by eyewitnesses] edited by Aaron Glantz and published by Haymarket Books. I strongly encourage you to buy the book, preferably through the Web site of Iraq Veterans Against the War, which organized the Winter Soldier hearings and continues to hold similar events in cities across the country. All proceeds from books purchased through IVAW will go to support its crucial work.

The following excerpt comes from Michael Prysner, a corporal in the Army Reserve who came home in February 2004.

- Liliana Segura, Editor, War on Iraq Special Coverage

20/10/2008 "Alternet" - When I joined the army, I said that racism no longer exists in the military. A legacy of inequality and discrimination was suddenly washed away by something called the Equal Opportunity Program [EO]. We sat in core classes, and each unit had an EO representative to ensure that they would not show elements of racism. The army seemed firmly dedicated to smashing any hint of racism.

Then came Sept. 11 and began to hear new words like "towel head" and "camel jockey," and most disturbing, " of sand nigger." At first the words did not come of other soldiers lower-enlisted, but from my superiors: my platoon sergeant, my first sergeant, my battalion commander. For the entire chain of command, these viciously racist terms were suddenly acceptable.

When I arrived in Iraq in 2003, I learned a new word, "haji." Haji was the enemy. Haji was every Iraqi. It was not a person, a parent, teacher, or a worker. It is important to understand where it comes from that word. For Muslims, the most important thing is to make a pilgrimage to Mecca, the Hajj. Which has made the pilgrimage to Mecca is a haji. It's something that, in traditional Islam, is the highest calling of religion. We take the best of Islam and made it worse.

Since the inception of this country, racism has been used to justify expansion and oppression. Native Americans were called "savages," the Africans were called all sorts of things to excuse slavery, and Vietnam veterans know the multitude of words used to justify that imperialist war.

So haji is the word we used. It was the word we used on this particular mission I'm going to talk. We have heard a lot about raids and kicking doors to break the people's houses and ransacking their houses, but this was a kind of raid different.

We never got any explanation for our orders. We were only told that a group of five or six houses was now property of the U.S. military, and we had to go and make those families leave their homes.

went to these houses and informed the families that their homes were no longer theirs. We provided them no alternative, nowhere to go, no compensation. They were very confused and very scared. Do not know what to do and would not leave, so we had to be removed.

One family in particular, a woman with two little girls, a very old man and two men middle-aged, dragged them from their house and threw into the street. We arrested the men because they refused to leave, and sent to prison.

A few months later I found, as we were short interrogators and I was given that assignment. Supervised and participated in hundreds of interrogations. I remember one in particular that I will share with you. It was the moment that really showed me the nature of that occupation.

This particular detainee was already stripped down to his underwear, hands behind his back and a sandbag on his head. I never saw her face. My task was to take a metal folding chair and smash it against the wall beside to his head - facing the wall with his nose touching it - while another soldier screamed over and over again the same question. No matter what his answer, my job was to slam the chair against the wall. We did until we got tired.

I was told to make sure he kept standing up, but something was wrong with his leg. He was wounded and fell to the ground all the time. The sergeant in charge and told me to put it back up, so I had to pick it up and put him against the wall. Kept falling off. I kept pulling him and putting him against the wall. My sergeant was upset with me because he could not continue to stand. Grabbed him and hit him several times against the wall. And it was. When the man went down to the ground, I noticed blood pouring down from under the sandbag. I let it sit, and when I noticed my sergeant coming again, I said quickly to re-stand. Instead of guarding my unit from this detainee, I realized I was guarding the detainee from my unit.

I tried hard to be proud of my service, but all I could feel was shame. Racism could no longer mask the reality of the occupation. They are human beings. Since then I have been plagued by guilt. I feel guilty every time I see an old man like that could not walk who we rolled to a stretcher and told the Iraqi police to take him. I feel guilty every time I see a mother with her children, as the one who cried hysterically and screamed that we were worse than Saddam as we forced her from her home. I feel guilty every time I see a young girl as I grabbed the arm and dragged into the street.

We were told we were fighting terrorists, the real terrorist was me, and the real terrorism is this occupation. Racism within the military has long been an important tool to justify the destruction and occupation of another country. Without racism, soldiers would realize that they have more in common with the Iraqi people with the billionaires who send us to war.

I threw families to the streets in Iraq, only to return home and find families thrown onto the street in this country, in this tragic crisis of foreclosure. Our enemies are not 8,000 kilometers, are here at home, and if we organize and fight, we can stop this war, we can stop this government, and create a better world. -----------

Aaron Glantz is author of two books to be published shortly on Iraq: "The War Comes Home: Washington's Battle Against America's Veterans" (UC Press) and "Winter Soldier: Iraq and Afghanistan (Haymarket). Edit the Web site; WarComesHome.org.