Sheep Dogs, My Ass

There is a cable channel called The Military Channel. Sometimes late at night, they will show archival combat footage from World War Two. When I can't sleep, I'll sometimes turn this on. Don't ask me why. Perhaps it was my upbringing. My father was a career Air Force officer. The only movies I ever saw in the theater until I was old enough to go on my own were war movies. That's because those were the only movies that my father would take us boys to see. I remember one in particular because it traumatized me. I don't recall the title, but it was set in the Korean War, and it starred Ronald Reagan. The gist of it was that too many American prisoners of war were cracking and collaborating with the North Koreans. Reagan was an intelligence officer who was assigned to find out why. He was to let himself be captured, determine what was going on, and escape so he could report to his superiors. True-blue Ronnie did as ordered, and reported that the prisoners of war were holding up remarkably well given the tortures they were suffering. As I recall, there were lots of scenes of those tortures, like crucifying prisoners for being Christians. I was seven or eight years old when I saw the film and it gave me nightmares. Of course, I was an overly sensitive soul as a child. When I was ten years old, I snuck out to see the science fiction movie This Island Earth with my cousin. I had really terrifying nightmares about the monster in the movie for two weeks. I've since seen it on TV, and I've had to laugh at the fact that it scared me so.

Anyway, I have digressed. Let's get back to the Military Channel. I was going to watch this show about the air war against Japan in the Bismarck Sea in World War Two. I tuned in about five minutes early, and they were wrapping up an hour-long show on a Marine company in Iraq. It showed them kicking in doors and leading off captives. The Marines were comparing themselves to their enemies. The way they explained it, they were like sheep dogs, and the insurgents were like wolves. Both were from the dog family and capable of violence, but the difference was that the wolf preyed upon the flock while the sheep dog watched over it. If I could have reached into the screen and grabbed the Marine who was saying this by the collar, I would have shaken him and screamed, "Could you be anymore of an idiot?" Of course, I guess I shouldn't expect much in the way of analytical abilities from these thugs. First of all, they fail to see the utter arrogance of this characterization. Like these people need the U.S. military to come over there and watch over them as though they were a bunch of sheep. They're quite capable of governing themselves, if only we would let them. Of course, that's the point, isn't it? They aren't supposed to govern themselves. They're supposed to submit to the American government and its interests.

I find it intriguing that it was former Marine Major General Smedley Butler who said the following in a 1933 speech. It is as true now as it was then.

War is just a racket. A racket is best described, I believe, as something that is not what it seems to the majority of people. Only a small inside group knows what it is about. It is conducted for the benefit of the very few at the expense of the masses.

I believe in adequate defense at the coastline and nothing else. If a nation comes over here to fight, then we'll fight. The trouble with America is that when the dollar only earns 6 percent over here, then it gets restless and goes overseas to get 100 percent. Then the flag follows the dollar and the soldiers follow the flag.

I wouldn't go to war again as I have done to protect some lousy investment of the bankers. There are only two things we should fight for. One is the defense of our homes and the other is the Bill of Rights. War for any other reason is simply a racket.

There isn't a trick in the racketeering bag that the military gang is blind to. It has its "finger men" to point out enemies, its "muscle men" to destroy enemies, its "brain men" to plan war preparations, and a "Big Boss" Super-Nationalistic Capitalism.

It may seem odd for me, a military man to adopt such a comparison. Truthfulness compels me to. I spent thirty- three years and four months in active military service as a member of this country's most agile military force, the Marine Corps. I served in all commissioned ranks from Second Lieutenant to Major-General. And during that period, I spent most of my time being a high class muscle-man for Big Business, for Wall Street and for the Bankers. In short, I was a racketeer, a gangster for capitalism.

I suspected I was just part of a racket at the time. Now I am sure of it. Like all the members of the military profession, I never had a thought of my own until I left the service. My mental faculties remained in suspended animation while I obeyed the orders of higher-ups. This is typical with everyone in the military service.

I helped make Mexico, especially Tampico, safe for American oil interests in 1914. I helped make Haiti and Cuba a decent place for the National City Bank boys to collect revenues in. I helped in the raping of half a dozen Central American republics for the benefits of Wall Street. The record of racketeering is long. I helped purify Nicaragua for the international banking house of Brown Brothers in 1909-1912. I brought light to the Dominican Republic for American sugar interests in 1916. In China I helped to see to it that Standard Oil went its way unmolested.

During those years, I had, as the boys in the back room would say, a swell racket. Looking back on it, I feel that I could have given Al Capone a few hints. The best he could do was to operate his racket in three districts. I operated on three continents.