Wednesday, September 21, 2005

Progress in Iraq


From WNEP :

Family and friends gathered Wednesday to remember Specialist William Evans, 22, of Hallstead. The National Guard soldier was killed while on patrol in Iraq Monday.

"He was a driver for a Bradley fighting vehicle. They are trained to do combat operations, conduct patrols and ensure the insurgents know this is where we are and we are here to make our presence known," said Major Steven Zarnowski of the 2nd Brigade.

This is not a picture of what happened to this young man but it makes the point. Thanks to Carl at Simply Left Behind for the image.

2 comments:

  1. Anonymous12:07 PM

    Nobody asked me, but whatever way you look at this war, we lose. If we cut and run--the terrorist state is most definitely established--when it did not exist under Saddam. iF we stay, we continue to be bogged down with lost lives and decapitated limbs. Reminds His Holiness of the man in the field standing between a swarm of bees and a herd of bulls--if he went left he's be stung to death, if he went right he'd be trampled to death. God Bless, Mr. President and good luck America!

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  2. Anonymous12:06 PM

    Turning and turning in the widening gyre
    The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
    Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
    Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
    The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
    The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
    The best lack all conviction, while the worst
    Are full of passionate intensity.

    Surely some revelation is at hand;
    Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
    The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
    When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
    Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
    A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
    A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
    Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
    Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
    The darkness drops again; but now I know
    That twenty centuries of stony sleep
    Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
    And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
    Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

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