WARNING: GRAPHIC CONTENT
When I was in College in my Senior year, I had one political science requirement to fulfill before graduating.
Back then, we all waited in tremendous lines with these “cheat” books that contained codes for the myriad of classes offered at the University at that time.
It’s a whole “nuther” story, as the saying goes, but I wish I had one of those books today to visit what courses were offered at the time: it seems I remember so many in the code book that there had to be some covering the sex life of some nefarious creature like a snipe or something – it always felt as if we were on a snipe hunt, trying to
find a class to take.
So here I am, code book in hand, with all the potential courses circled that would meet my requirement.
We’d normally have to stand in line several times to complete our roster of classes for the quarter. What would really tick you off is to find that a professor had dropped a class on the first day of classes – then it would be “back to the end of the line yet again”.
Frustrations were high, needless to say.
I get to the computer and find an opening in one titled “Contemporary Issues in American Public Policy”.
Now, to date myself, these are the 1980’s, mind you.
“Fine Young Cannibals”, “Modern English”, and “Dexys Midnight Runners” were the new sounds on the radio-diddio, and we were just behind the curve on the e-generation that was about to “hatch”.
But the paper-driven, computer guru-gods and god-ettes would smile on me this day (so I thought) – I seem to have hit the jack-pot with this class (well, more like “hit the
So I get to the class the first day and find out that this is one EVERYONE (whoever EVERYONE is) wants this class. The good Professor and his lectures are highly coveted.
Turns out, the entire quarter would be devoted to the history of the Viet Nam war.
Now, again, let me re-iterate.
The title of the course was Contemorary Issues in American Public Policy and it was the 1980’s.
Again, for the benefit of those of my readers edumacated in the public
school systems, the Viet Nam war ended in the 70’s.
I graduated (college) in 1987.
The war seemed a distant memory at this point (some twelve years or more was
already behind us – I had moved on).
Contemporary for me was the issue of the nuns killed by Sandinistas in
Central America, the dismantling of the Iron Curtain and Perestroika, or a new
concept in warfare known as a missile shield, popularly called “Reagan’s Star
But it was a public school, and a university, so I suppose that contemporary
for them is always twenty years behind.
At any rate, I did get to meet a lot of people who were actively involved in
From street protesters to soldiers, I heard many perspectives.
One that stood out among all was a spook.
Now, due to the time that has passed, I have forgotten spook’s name, so for
the purpose of this article, let’s just call him “Juke” (as in “Juke the
Now again, for those of you from public schools, a spook is a term used most
often to describe spies, assassins (snipers) and special forces. To some, they
are known as “snake eaters”; the WW II generation probably called them
They are a special class, by any soldier’s standards.
In later life, I met another one who served in Viet Nam as well. He told me
that his commanding officer basically told him to essentially go AWOL, live in
the jungle, and kill as many of the enemy as possible. Check back from time to
time with a body count.
They were hard core, needless to say.
He was a sniper, and he killed enemy officers, and South Vietnamese who
collaborated with the Viet Kong.
Torture Defined, by Juke
(WARNING: graphic content
Juke related to us his first kill.
He begins by telling us of a young girl, probably a teenager, who was
repeatedly raped by our predecessors in the war in Indochina, the French.
She was passed around like a rag-doll and I suppose many of the soldiers had
a turn with her.
Needless to say, this affected her psyche in abnormal and extreme fashion
that would prove of great use to our enemy, down the line.
Now, growing up, I had heard all about enemy torture. Brainwashing (PSYOPS)
was a huge topic for a young boy growing up during that war, and we all had a
certain fear of returning soldiers (what had the enemy done to them?).
We all heard the storys of bamboo shoots being shoved up their toe-and
finger- nail beds, of burning flesh, and the monotonous drip, drip, dripping of
water torture (a single drop, between the eyes, perpetual, for
But what Juke related was even worse.
Now it is torture, in itself, to repeatedly rape someone. It would seem
iteration is often a central theme in the use of torture.
But it turned her into a monster.
Juke said that soldiers guarding the perimeter of a certain jungle camp would be taken prisoner in the dead of night.
Somewhere in the jungle, near the base camp, the torture would begin.
This raped, rag-doll marionette for the Cong would have the prisoner hog-tied to a table. Her torture would then begin.
She would take a razor blade and begin at their toes, splitting the skin and peeling it back.
Little by little, she would peel the skin back all the way up their legs,their torso, all the way to their necks.
Of course, they would scream in agony, which was the PSYOPS portion of the operation; the screaming would be heard by the soldiers in the base camp.
I don’t know how many victims she claimed, but Juke was given the task of assassinating her.
He claimed he had no problem with this job. I imagined that I would not either.
I don’t know anyone who would. Much agony, both in her mind and spirit, and for the poor prisoners that were her victims, would be put to an end with her death.
Now, I don’t know about you, but to sit and watch your body stripped of its skin, and to die in agony (probably of infection) the whole while watching nothing but meat and muscle writhe below – I don’t know, but to me, water-boarding seems a pic-nic in comparison.
This is real torture.
It is confirmed by those in the Hanoi Hilton (John McCain included) that arms would be tied at the wrists behind backs, and bamboo poles placed in the crook of the elbows would be used to lift the soldier, then drop him within inches of the floor before jerking back on the rig – thus pulling the victim’s shoulders from their sockets.
I’ve had a dislocated shoulder. I can tell you that this is “passing out”pain.
Even this, pales to having one’s skin removed.
Pain at least tells you that you are still alive.
Seeing that all your skin is gone and that you look like one of those”Grey’s Anatomy” anatomical man figurine models we put together as kids in the60’s – you know for certain that not only are these your last and final days, but that those final hours and hours and hours would be spent in the most horrific agony.
So yes, my personal opinion is, this sets the low mark for what DEFINES torture.
It (torture) takes many forms, but this is one of the most cruel stories that I have ever heard.
The Club Gitmo Variant
Well, the terrorist held at Gitmo are in a resort by comparison. Their “torture” does not even come close to this kind of agony.
To be dunked in water, forced to believe that you will be drowned (and yet never drowned) – you’d think a torture “victim” would learn…I suppose there is the possiblity that the “torturers” might not revive you after getting a lung-dose of water, but after having been “drowned” so many times and revived, it seems reasonable to assume the torture isn’t killing you.
In fact, it could be equated to standing in lines at the university to signup for classes that have been mis-represented as contemporary when in fact the subject matter is 20-years old; it is just like a Democrat who mis-represents anything remotely resembling the truth.
For example, “I have no interest in socialism” comes the cry from our current “powers that be” – and yet all around all we see of their policy is pure and simple, unadulterated and perfect, socialism.
It brings into question, actually, whether anything in the class could bebelieved.
For example, after relating the story of the “victim” who was raped by the French and then as a result becoming a flesh-eating psychopath, “Juke” goes onto tell us that his last “kill order” was for a village fisherman who he personally knew was no collaborator with the Viet Kong.
Now, there are a lot of red flags and question marks that crop up in hisstories.
He said he layed down his sniper rifle and refused to kill the fisherman.
It is almost poetry, isn’t it?
The war begins noble.
He’s killing insane people who are hurting others.
Then, as a matter of conscious, he refuses a direct order to kill what he says he believes is an innocent.
En masse, the war begins as a noble effort.
To hear a hippie paint it, in the end, we (America) was “in the wrong” -killing innocent fishermen (let’s see now – wasn’t it Christ who was also a fisherman).
Like I said, the story is poetry, and it sounds propagandist.
But here is what we do know.
John McCain and his fellow prisoners were most assuredly tortured at the Hanoi Hilton.
What they endured was definitely worse than what the terrorists at Gitmo have endured.
For me, that should be the end of the story.
But apparently, in all his glory and wisdom, it does not end there for B.O.
He’s gonna have to “bring out the pictures” of torture in Gitmo.
Well, personally, I can’t get the picture of the skinless fellow on a table in the jungle out of my head – or the teenaged rape victim.
Sheesh…that seems like something we used to do to Puney Maroni up in the creek on Saturday afternoons to get him to tell us where he hid the candy.
I wonder what kind of “spin” B.O. and his propagandists will put on this one once all of these photos he’s so fond of get released?
I don’t know about you, but I’m beginning to feel tortured by B.O. and his minion of morons.
How ’bout you?