In her article “Questions No One Wants to Ask Gen. McChrystal” (Townhall.com, December 11, 2008) Diana West lists some of the Rules of Engagement (ROE) that our men and women must obey in fighting the enemy or face the possibility of imprisonment when they return to the United States. According to Ms West’s article these rules include the following:

1.      No night searches

2.      Villagers must be warned prior to searches

3.      Searches must account for the Islamic attitude towards women

4.      Soldiers must not fire on the enemy unless the enemy is preparing to fire on them first

5.      Soldiers may fire on a person PLACING a mine, but not on one walking away from placing a mine. 

6.      She indicates there are others such as no air support for ground troops except in case of “emergency.” This rule already led to the deaths of some soldiers who had radioed for help, which was denied.)

As a person who has had six months “up front” in combat including four months of continuous front line duty as an infantry radio scout, let me respond to this. 

First, almost all of my work was done at night. That was when the enemy was up and about. Our most vicious battles, such as Outpost Harry which cost us 2300 casualties, were also at night.

Secondly, the idiocy of telling the enemy, who work from villages, when the village is to be searched is beyond understanding. Naturally the Muslim jihadists, who wear no uniforms, are going to take time to hide their weapons and be friendly during those searches. They might even be able to retrieve their weapons and kill a few of our men as they are leaving.

Third, caring for the Islamic attitude towards women is a statement which would border on the hilarious if it didn’t reflect such profound ignorance. My first knowledge of this attitude came from a Master Sergeant whom I had learned to respect when he was coach of Andrew’s t-ball team. He was sent on a mission to Iraq and I met him on his return. I asked him what it was like. He responded, “They are a really beautiful people, but women are strictly second class citizens. They use women and girls to clear mine fields because women are less valued than men.” (Anyone who doubts that attitude should read Surah (Chapter) two, line 288 of the Qu′ran.) For men in combat, this means that these Islamic fighters are quite willing to have women conceal weapons and explosives under their burkas or hide behind women while shooting at them. (Incidentally, the North Koreans used women in this fashion in the Korean Conflict, but we weren’t prevented from shooting them.)

Fourth, to not shoot at an enemy fighter unless that fighter is preparing to shoot at them. Any soldier stupid enough to obey this is giving the enemy the first shot. Of course if he doesn’t obey, and lives, Obama’s generals will send him to Leavenworth prison.

Fifth, this means that anyone who is spotted placing a mine only has to turn his (or her) back and begin walking away to be safe. 

When combat soldiers are not working, all they are is tired, but when they are working they live by combat or die. 

On the positive side, I never knew of any combat soldiers who harmed peaceful civilians. In fact, I knew of those who tried to help the innocent. Red Curry, who was a top combat scout, actually cried when he had to carry a sick young woman to safety. Our supply room took in an elderly, wandering, civilian man; gave him a bed and provided him with food. Our cook was criticized by a colonel new to Korea for feeding stray children. A friend who was present said he looked at the colonel and replied, “Sir, as long as I am in charge of this mess hall, I’ll feed children.” The colonel left. The same could not be said for some rear echelon soldiers. I heard some of these non-combat men brag about how they had abused innocents in the rear area, but, fortunately, there weren’t too many of them. Good thing for us they were in the back, they wouldn’t have had what it takes to face armed men interested in killing them. 

To return however, to the “Rules of Engagement” promoted by our current leadership, anyone who has a loved one going there should get an extra hug from them.  Their work is being made suicidal.  They are much less likely to return alive than they would be under intelligent leadership.   

Sorry if this is badly written. It is an emotional topic for me.

I did not vote for McCain, I voted against Obama. Having been brought up on the sayings, “birds of a feather flock together” and “you can tell a man by the company he keeps” I considered the anti-American, anti-democratic and corrupt politicians with whom Obama associated in Chicago and voted against him. I had no idea, however, how thoroughly corrupt the Democratic party had become until I read Michelle Malkin’s book, “Culture of Corruption” in which, as is her style, she gives names, dates, cash flow and her sources of information. It is disheartening reading. Now, I have read “Obama’s Moral Leadership Balloon Crashes” by Mona Charon (Townhall.com, Oct. 20). Ms Charon takes a different approach, but, like Michelle, names events and sources in writing about how Obama’s messages of “hope” in his campaign have translated into his support of dictatorships around the world.

Disappointed in the National Football League refusing permission for Rush Limbaugh to become a part owner in the Rams, based on false charges of racism brought by Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson and the president of the players’ union, I decided to stop watching professional football. I quit this past Sunday and was surprised to discover that I didn’t miss it, or even notice that I was missing it.

Perhaps this belongs under “Family Affairs,” but I suspect it is more political. I had a bad night last night, the first in a long time.  Fifty-five year old memories woke me at two and kept me awake.  I know what caused it. While at the hospital yesterday I spotted my friend Jim, an unreformed Democrat, waiting in Dr. Blazer’s office so I dropped in to make certain this was simply a routine visit. Reassured, I traded fun, political, jabs with him before asking if he still liked Obama. He said he objected to Obama having a thirty thousand dollar a plate dinner with people he had just bailed out with millions of tax payer dollars. I didn’t respond to that, but what bothers me, and woke me up this morning, is something different. I don’t like what is happening in Afghanistan.

We have generals and military leaders saying we need more men and equipment, but Obama is too busy to talk with them: busy interviewing five year old children in New Orleans, busy visiting Chicago and Europe to try for the Olympics, busy giving political speeches in New Jersey and attending that expensive donor dinner. All of this while our men and women are fighting, and dying, with a lack of help and equipment in Afghanistan. 

My knowledge of this awoke me in the middle of the night: memories of night after night of explosions and men dying. I laid down to sleep in Outpost Howe on the 10^th of June, 1953, thinking that it was the first night in over a week I could sleep with my boots off. I woke up an hour later with dirt falling in my face as shells exploded on top of and around our bunker. I spent the night working in stocking feet. The Chinese had decided to take Seoul by going through us, and they allocated two divisions to do it. When morning came and life calmed down, three of us were sent to a watching post about a hundred and fifty yards in front of the front line and a hundred or so yards off of the west slope of Outpost Harry, the point of the Chinese attack. I was there for the next three nights. As a point radio scout, I received radioed requests for more men, more ammunition and more medical supplies and forwarded them to headquarters. After the third night, the fourth night of the battle, we three were pulled back and returned to Regimental headquarters for a night’s sleep. I remember being shocked by the supplies and the guns. There were hundreds of cases of grenades and bullets stacked immediately behind the line. Heavy guns had been pulled into the area to support us: forty and fifty caliber machine guns, heavy mortars, artillery of all types including rockets. This was all new. We were in a fight, but our government was supporting us. Over the eight nights of that unknown battle in that forgotten war we lost about 2300 men while killing an estimated 7000 enemy, but we held. And we held with our government’s, President Eisenhower’s, support. 

Where is that help and support for our people in Afghanistan? Obama is too busy doing other things to even talk to those trying to run this war.

I know his work isn’t easy. Any decision he makes, to fight or to run, will be criticized. It wasn’t easy for Truman or Eisenhower or Johnson or Nixon or Bush either, but they were in charge and knew their responsibility. It is time Obama learned his.

I’m disappointed that Dr. Muir feels as he does. I had conversations with him several times when he was the chairman of the history department at Austin Peay. I thought he ran a good department, although quite a liberal one. 

Most of the Liberals (capital L) I know are college professors or ministers. None of those I know well have any experience with the reality of life I have known. I used to explain to classes my credentials for teaching the subject, so my credentials for knowing something of my fellow citizens follow.

I was raised in a slum. As a child and youth, I carried packages of groceries to their homes for ladies in hopes of getting a nickel. I mowed lawns and worked cleaning up the school cafeteria for free lunches in high school. Attending college, I worked 44 hours a week nights and weekends through a combination of jobs. 

Following graduation from Harris, I taught in a downtown slum school. Once I complained to the Assistant Superintendent that I was being sent children from the reform school who were not in my district. He said I worked well with them. I visited my students’ homes and took them on trips, sometimes during the school day, sometimes on Saturdays. The one I remember best was the time I got 50 free tickets to a Cardinal baseball game. Forgetting the day, I made a date with a young woman I had wanted to take out for some time. When she asked where we were going, I said, “To the Cardinal game.”

“Great.”

“There is one catch; we are taking 50 children with us.” 

I never got another date with her. 

Thanks to the Korean War I have six months, plus a week, of front line time, first as a radio operator and then as a scout.  I saw quiet times and some very bloody action. At Harry we lost 2300 and killed an estimated 7000. It was a seven day battle. Combat taught me that you could find humor, joke and laugh in the worst of situations.

In all of these activities I met men and women from all walks of life with all types of personalities. Some were wonderful, some weren’t.  Most were hard working, honest people always ready to help someone in need.  I have had friends who were black, white, oriental and American Indian.  Race never seemed to matter in my relationships; for good or bad. 

As a licensed counseling psychologist I worked in the Adult Counseling Service at WashingtonUniversity. We served people from the community at large from all levels of society. My favorite was a toothless, black, retired washerwoman who looked like a retired washerwoman. She was an all “A” student. During this time I conducted individual, extra, volunteer work with those who needed it on my own time.

Leaving St. Louis, I went to the University of Alberta. Too cut a long story short, again there were all kinds who asked for some “free” counseling. It was at that time that I first became involved with the homosexual community and decided that all of those I knew were homosexual because of life experiences. 

Going to Drury College, I feared I might be losing touch with “real life,” called the County Mental Health office and volunteered to work Friday afternoons as a psychologist. It took them three weeks to accept. I called and said that if they didn’t want me, they should just say so. They responded that I had confused them, no one had ever volunteered before. I spent six years counseling there, mostly court referrals and graduates of psychiatric services. 

From there I went to AustinPeayStateUniversity where I continued the half day volunteer work at the Social Work Service. I also became Vice-President of the Board and directly responsible for supervision of the County Girls Home. Judge Catalano telephoned me at my office and said she heard I was the only psychologist in town who would work for free. Would I help? I did, for four years.  The only problem the board had was selecting a name. I suggested the Catalano House, since she started it.  I said we could call it the “Cat” house for short. When the judge finished laughing she turned that idea down.

Leaving teaching I went to work for the military, first as a test specialist, then as a psychologist and finally as a researcher.  My specialty was electronic intelligence and I had the highest possible clearance.  During all of this time, I did volunteer work, including work as a union representative and for EEO. 

My proudest achievement as a union representative was evaluating a case of sexual harassment and discrimination. After hearing the problem from the wife of a young soldier, my first step was to the commissary office where I photocopied several pages of records. The records later disappeared. When faced with the photostats, the director of the commissary decided to retire.

Most of my EEO work was done in Germany, in fact I did so much of it that my supervisor complained. Every recommendation I made was accepted. One resulted in a reprimand to a Colonel, another in the reinstatement of a young black ex-soldier to his job at the post office. A third led to the dismissal of a sex discrimination charge by a woman who was a GM 14, but thought she should become a GM 15 when transferred to a similar job in a different city. There were many others, but why waste your time?

The EEO office liked me because the ranks of the persons involved did not influence my efforts.  I investigated the facts of the case, located relevant evidence, and delivered them along with my recommendations. 

I should note that I also have a background in research and analysis. Five graduate courses in research and statistics resulted in my teaching statistics over a period of twenty years. In the years following my doctorate I took advanced mathematics courses, computer programming courses and a series of graduate courses on operations research and systems analysis.  The military considered me qualified at the GM 14 level in Operations Research and in mathematical statistics.  I was part of a cell established by General Thurman at Ft.Leavenworth to certify the research adequacy, statistical analysis and accuracy of final reports of major military research projects. During that period I spent most of my time at White Sands but had to visit and work at military research installations ranging from California to Maryland. Frankly, reviewing political speeches and newspaper articles for facts, logical inconsistencies and omissions is nothing compared to doing the same for two or three hundred page research reports on multi-million dollar projects.

And that is what I try to do in my essays.  I know a lot about people, and I know how to look for facts and logical consistency.  On a daily basis I read the Wall Street Journal, Google news, Drudge Report, various essayists and watch the evening news. At least once a week I read the St. Louis Post Dispatch, the New York Times and the Washington Post. Probably the best of these is the Wall Street Journal, but some of its articles have flaws of logic and omitted facts also.

Dr. Muir mentioned that my last several essays disappointed him, so I went and re-read the last three. 

The diversity essay is based on facts.  You may not like them, but they are real.  I would like anyone to name me a nation in which there are people speaking different languages and obeying different laws which is a peaceful nation whose citizens respect each other regardless of differences. Please don’t mention Bosnia. The last article I read said it was falling apart; the Serbs and Croats hate each other and both were trying to eliminate Muslims. “Diversity” was not an angry article; it was an article of fear, not personal fear: with a bad heart and a broken chest I’m just hoping to make 80 – six months from now. No, it is fear for the country I love. The English language and the laws based on the Constitution have made this vast geographic section of North America the most prosperous and peaceful nation in the world. I hope it stays that way – I have seen what internal war does to a country and the remnant who survive.  Let us not permit the great god Diversity destroy that.

The second article was pure fun. Anyone reading it should recognize that. The fact that I made up some of the stuff, especially the “higher authority” paragraph should be obvious. Certainly it attacks Democrats, specifically Obama, Pelosi and some programs. So what? They absolutely control both Houses of Congress and the Legislative Branch. They have absolute power. They are the ones making all decisions and have been since Bush caved in to a Democratic Congress. Why criticize those who can’t do anything? At the present, Republicans are irrelevant.

The third article has a mistake in it. In one place I say black kale and in another black lettuce. Lettuce is an error. Two articles I read about the stuff, had a name I could neither pronounce, spell nor remember. One translated it as black kale and the other as black CABBAGE. Sheila thought the word “black” might have offended the readers. I thought it more likely that they objected to my suggestion that Michelle might fear walking through a black neighborhood. Hey, don’t blame me. It was Reverend Jesse Jackson who was quoted as saying that when he heard footsteps behind him when walking down a street in DC, he looked back. He said if he saw a white man, he relaxed. By the way, the Reverend Jackson is black. Actually, my article picked on a really stupid publicity stunt and an expensive one for the taxpayers. My major complaint in the article was with the news reporters. Why didn’t the major media report this farce? Remember the time the President Bush bought something in a grocery store and talked to the cashier about her job and her scanning device? It made every television news channel and all major newspapers. Reporters thought he didn’t know about scanners. They should have a minimum IQ requirement for reporters of at least the moron level. What was he supposed to talk to her about, international relations? But not a word on Michelle’s cabbage – see I got it right this time.

My bride laughed at me while I was writing this. She said, “You complain when you don’t get any responses or controversy, and now you complain when you get do.”

Memorial Day is two weeks past, but this has been a difficult essay to write.  In my youth, Memorial Day was wonderful:  it was the end of school and the swimming pools were open.  Those days are past.

A friend, Ed Duemler, sent me an e-mail asking if we in Cumberland Furnace were doing anything special for Memorial Day.  The answer, which I never gave him until now, was “No.”

About the same time, my VFW magazine had an interesting article on how psychologists, and (I assume) social workers and psychiatrists are working with returning veterans who have “post traumatic stress disorder,” normally a result of combat (June/July 2009).  It was quite an interesting article and some imaginative techniques are being used in an effort to help service people and veterans who need it.  But I don’t believe it will work.

I have some experience in this area, from two directions.  A licensed psychologist, I did volunteer work at Fort Campbell in the social work department for several years.  I developed a high regard for this department and for Major St. Pierre who ran it.  In fact, as a psychology professor at Austin Peay State University, numerous students would come to me with personal problems.  My first question to them would be if they had any relationship to the fort.  If they did, I automatically referred them to the social work center there instead of to local psychiatrists, psychologists and social workers.

From the other direction, I have six months “up front” (not counting the week I arrived on line in December).

The first two were reasonably relaxing; I served as a radio operator at regiment – within range of artillery but not under direct enemy observation most of the time.  During the first month I had five days “on line,” and the second month two weeks.  Then I volunteered for the scouts and for the next four lived and worked on the front line.  This primarily consisted of patrolling with occasional problems, but did include some heavy fighting, such as Out Post Harry where, during an eight day battle, slaughter really, we lost about 2300 men and killed an estimated 7000 Chinese.  

I was still on line when the truce was declared.  Believe it or not, I was unhappy with this.  The front had become my home, I was comfortable there.  All you needed to do to stay alive was to be ever watchful, quick, combat-smart and lucky.  I was confident that I had three of these and I had been extremely lucky on several occasions.  If, I figured, the fighting had continued and I had stayed up front, I would have been sent home in just two more months.  All I had to do was stay alive.

With the truce, life changed.  I was fine during the day, as long as I was up and working, but when I would lie down at night I would get these terrible headaches.  Nothing seemed to help them, although if I bit my lip hard enough, that pain seemed to reduce the headache.  These head aches lasted for years, gradually decreasing in frequency.  I had the last one when I was forty-one.

I had other problems of adjustment also, but these gradually disappeared.  Only two remain.  I don’t like to sit with anyone behind me.  My wife knows this, so we maneuver in restaurants to a place where my back is against the wall.  Another one, silly now, is my inability to walk anywhere without looking on both sides as a walk, whether it is open fields, between houses or in people’s windows.  This one irritates me.  Several years ago I tried to break it.  Walking down the hallway in a school to the principal’s office I told myself, “Do not look in the classrooms.”  A third of the way down the hall I had to return and start over, carefully checking the rooms on both sides of the hall as I passed them.

You wouldn’t think that a short six months of your life would do this to you, I lived a year and a half in Williston, North Dakota and have only fleeting memories and no changes in behavior arising from that.  But those six months were different.

I describe those months in detail in my book, “We Were Innocents,” so there is no point in describing them here except for two or three things.  In combat you are always alert – always – awake or sleeping.  Carelessness costs.  The tension builds so gradually that you are not even aware of it, it is simply “normal,” Quite different from the excitement of patrolling.  Then, when working, not simply watching or waiting, you must see everything and nothing dangerous can be left behind you.   So, at age seventy-nine, I still watch everything and don’t want my back unprotected. 

I would like to tell those working with combat soldiers that they aren’t going to help them much.  It is possible for a psychologist or psychiatrist to help “erase” imaginary problems from the mind, but combat is real.  Memories and life protecting habits from combat are simply something you have to learn to live with.  With the years they will drift into the back of your mind. I seldom have bad dreams anymore, except on Memorial Day. 

Sheila spent a half hour “talking” with our grandson August on the Internet this afternoon.  He is a Marine in Iraq. He started by mentioning how he wished to be here and then drifted into his anger at our politicians who are ready to release enemy terrorists because of some imaginary legal error. When Sheila asked him how he was doing he said, “Well, we have our experiences.” I think I know what that means, I had hoped he wasn’t having them.  He went on to add that while Iraq had been won, we were in a global war with terrorists and asked, “Don’t people realize that?”

I started writing the following several months ago, but had about decided to let it die. For Augie’s sake, I’ve decided to finish it. I’ll begin with my original introduction and writing.

I haven’t been sleeping too well recently. Among troubling dreams were a lot that had to do with the military, and complaints by people who have lived in luxury all of their lives complaining about the conduct of soldiers about “torturing” enemies. 

Let me begin, actually I began up above, by saying I have some experience with soldiers in combat. I have six months up front with the 15^th Infantry Regiment, four of them as a radio scout. I should add, for any amateurs who read this, which I hope includes most, that being in combat doesn’t mean you are fighting all the time. It means you’re always ready to fight. Even though tense and watchful, most of the time you are sitting watching enemy lines, rummaging around for food and water, hoping people will write you letters and dodging the occasional mortar or shell fire – mortar shells are silent and you have to be aware of the “pop” that means one is on the way. If it sounds like a locomotive is bearing down on you, it means get down and deep as fast as you can; heavy artillery is coming in. 

You fight when you are sent out to do so, or when some enemy officer sends his people out to kill you. Sometimes it is vicious and bloody as in the battle for Outpost Harry in Korea where we lost 2300 men and killed some 7000, mostly in five nights of mass attacks or it may be small stuff a company against a company for example. Still, men, on both sides, who would rather be home with their families, get killed. You may, of course, and this is mostly a scout’s job, spend time out in no-man’s land, playing hide and seek with enemy scouts and always remembering that it is better to kill than to be killed. 

Now, concerning torture: it is always by definition – as seen in the eyes of the receiver or as defined by the ignorant. What one person defines as torture may be luxury to another; it depends on your experience.

I suspect that every parent has heard, “You’re torturing me!” more than once. Having had eight children I have heard it numerous times. Usually, this has occurred over such orders as do your homework or finish your oatmeal or you need to rake some leaves before you go to the movies. 

At the other end of childhood, we have some, perhaps many, Congress persons who would consider paying for their own tickets and riding on commercial aircraft torture.

But there is such a thing as real torture: something that brings pain to the person being tortured and, perhaps, permanent scarring or death. I know this is true.

Most people will tell you that persons who have been in combat will not talk about their experiences to others. The reason is that people who haven’t “been there” will not understand, but as a person who had been there I have had free discussions with men from the Second World War, Korea, and Vietnam. We understood one another. Up front, when you capture someone whom you believe knows something that might help save your life or the lives of others, you make certain they tell you what they know. 

If it is a guerilla, working behind your lines, after you have learned as much as you think you can, you kill him. If the person is a soldier – in uniform – that has been captured, and if it is safe to do so, you send him back to a prison camp. Otherwise, you have no choice. He or they, die so that you and your comrades live.

If someone is shooting at you from a house with women and children in it: you shoot back. If the women and children are killed, it is the shooter’s fault, not yours.

This was true in World War II in both Europe and Asia, it was true in Korea and it was true in Vietnam. Mercy and legal rights may be proper for prostitutes, shoplifters and Congressmen, but the rules of combat are different.

It is nice to be charitable, but combat has different rules. I know of two young Chinese soldiers who disobeyed this once. They captured a Greek soldier whom I knew: an exceptionally tall, strong man with a badly scarred face. They got careless. He killed both of them and returned safely. If they had been more experienced he would have died, and they would have lived another day.

Everyone I know who has served in combat is either aware of such situations, has witnessed them or has participated in them. If our political and legal leaders wish to imprison such persons, they should set up concentration camps and simply imprison all men who have actually served in combat – under their orders.