Pathetic Pro-War chain email sent in Britain

Pathetic Pro-War chain email sent in Britain

The following email arrived in my inbox today from a good friend. His heart is in the right place so that’s why I suspect he forwarded it to everyone in his address book, just like the person who sent it to him did. However, it reminded me that this is how most of the public feel about Iraq and Afghanistan.  Supporting ‘our gallant lads’ is the norm and how different my views are on the subject. I found the email frankly offensive with its jingoism and emotional blackmail.

See the full email at the bottom of this article.

The first paragraph is quite correct when it comes to who makes up the ranks of the non-commissioned infantry in the British army, underachieving, slightly thick, late teenagers from areas of high unemployment. It’s the army or the dole, and we are expected to to be humble because he chose the ‘work’ option with some rather alarming health and safety issues.  I particularly liked the girlfriend section, it was straight from some WW2 propaganda film.  As soon as I read ’swore she would be waiting for him when he returned’, my reaction was the same as in those films… ‘he’s definitely going to die!’  Then we have the third paragraph… he maybe as thick as shit, but he can do all sorts manual tasks and use idiot proof weapon systems to kill people. Good for him.

The forth paragraph starts to really ramp things up for the reader.  You’ve swallowed the previous bullshit entree, it’s now time for the main course.  He obeys orders but not without a rebellious spirit.  What can we ascertain from this? He’s being told to do things he doesn’t want to do but does it anyway?  Anyone with a true rebellious spirit would not have signed their life away in the first place.  Then we are expected to be humble again, because soldiers, believe it or not, are the only people who can be self-sufficient, get their heads around the concept of collectivism and have the one emotion that sets us and the great apes apart from any other species on this planet, the ability to empathise.

On to the fifth paragraph.  He works twice as hard for half the pay of a civilian.  Welcome to the corporate war machine, son!  Apparently there is a saying in the British Army, ‘If you can’t take a joke, you shouldn’t have joined’.  Which is strangely apt as the sickest piece of black humour is on soldiers just like this, dieing not to protect King and Country, but for oil and fighting a never-ending phony war on terror to keep the corporate weapons manufacturers in business, plus protecting a £500m heroin business!

Finally he’s seen more suffering and death than anyone his age should have seen.  That’s right and I’m sure when he returns to society, he will not have devastating post traumatic stress disorder or end up like 50% of the homeless people in London who just happen to be ex-servicemen. No, he’ll marry that English Rose who waited for him and they’ll live in a lovely cottage with a white picket fence and take The Sun or The Daily Mail every morning.  We are then invited, well emotionally blackmailed into remembering him always as he’s earned our respect and admiration with his blood.  Well not mine I’m afraid, all he has earned is my utter contempt.  He’s not fighting for King and Country like the soldiers in WW2 to protect us from fascism, he’s fighting purely to forward a neo-conservative world political view and support the Corporatocracy. He has no one else to blame for his plight than himself.

The British Soldier

They are doing their bit…..please do yours by reading this and forwarding it to someone else:

The average British soldier is 19 years old…..he is a short haired, well built lad who, under normal circumstances is considered by society as half man, half boy. Not yet dry behind
the ears and just old enough to buy a round of drinks but old enough to die for his country – and for you. He’s not particularly keen on hard work but he’d rather be grafting in Afghanistan than unemployed in the UK . He recently left comprehensive school
where he was probably an average student, played some form of sport, drove a ten year old rust bucket, and knew a girl that either broke up with him when he left, or swore to be waiting when he returns home. He moves easily to rock and roll or hip-hop or
to the rattle of a 7.62mm machine gun.

He is about a stone lighter than when he left home because he is working or fighting from dawn to dusk and well beyond. He has trouble spelling, so letter writing is a pain for him,
but he can strip a rifle in 25 seconds and reassemble it in the dark. He can recite every detail of a machine gun or grenade launcher and use either effectively if he has to.
He
digs trenches and latrines without the aid of machines and can apply first aid like a professional paramedic. He can march until he is told to stop, or stay dead still until he is told to move
.

He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation but he is not without a rebellious spirit or a sense of personal dignity. He is confidently self-sufficient. He has two sets of
uniform with him: he washes one and wears the other. He keeps his water bottle full and his feet dry. He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never forgets to clean his rifle. He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes and fix his own hurts. If
you are thirsty, he’ll share his water with you; if you are hungry, his food is your food. He’ll even share his life-saving ammunition with you in the heat of a firefight if you run low.

He has learned to use his hands like weapons and regards his weapon as an extension of his own hands. He can save your life or he can take it, because that is his job – it’s what a soldier does. He often works twice as long
and hard as a civilian, draw half the pay and have nowhere to spend it, and can still find black ironic humour in it all. There’s an old saying in the British Army: ‘If you can’t take a joke, you shouldn’t have joined!’

He has seen more suffering and death than he should have in his short lifetime. He has wept in public and in private, for friends who have fallen in combat and he is unashamed to
show it or admit it. He feels every bugle note of the ‘Last Post’ or ‘Sunset’ vibrate through his body while standing rigidly to attention. He’s not afraid to ‘Bollock’ anyone who shows disrespect when the Regimental Colours are on display or the National
Anthem is played; yet in an odd twist, he would defend anyone’s right to be an individual. Just as with generations of young people before him, he is paying the price for our freedom. Clean shaven and baby faced he may be, but be prepared to defend yourself
if you treat him like a kid.

He is the latest in a long thin line of British Fighting Men that have kept this country free for hundreds of years. He asks for nothing from us except our respect, friendship and understanding. We may not like what he does,
but sometimes he doesn’t like it either – he just has it to do.. Remember him always, for he has earned our respect and admiration with his blood
.

And now we even have brave young women putting themselves in harm’s way, doing their part in this tradition of going to war when our nation’s politicians call on us to do so.

When you receive this, please stop for a moment and if you are so inclined, feel free to say a prayer for our troops in the trouble spots of the world.

I wouldn’t dream of breaking this chain – would you?

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