People need to be reminded of Bush's "Bring it on" comment

[dansolo]

With the revelation of all of the high explosives that the Administration failed to secure, and which are probably the direct cause of American casualties, the American people need to be reminded of Bush's disregard for the safety of our troops.

[xultar]

1. Bring it on, they will, they will just bring it with explosives attached

:nuke:

[DemoTex]

2. "Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori."

We have lost over 1100 US service men and women in Iraq. The first of these brave troops died on March 20, 2003. The 1000th Iraq war death occurred on September 7, 2004. A regiment now lost; 1100+ good and brave troops.

Since the former-Lieutenant Bush did his vainglorious victory strut on the deck of the USS Abraham Lincoln(May 1, 2003), under a banner proclaiming “Mission Accomplished,” nearly 1000 US troops have died.

Bush then taunted the tenacious enemy with his macho “Bring ‘em on!” (July 2, 2003). They brought it on, indeed, and nearly 900 good Americans have since died.

On December 13, 2003, Saddam Hussein was captured in a hidey-hole. The world is a safer place now, Bush crowed. Dover AFB has received nearly 700 flag-draped coffins from Iraq since that day.

I cannot read or hear of a single death in Iraq, on either side, without thinking or Wilfred Owen's WW-1 anti-war poem, 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 disappointed shells 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 floundering 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.

Note: The "old" lie that Owen refers to, Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori, translates from the Latin to It is sweet and right to die for your country.

[Kahuna]

3. I think so too. Time's a wasting.

nt