Gitmo Defendants Given My Lai Massacre Film

No amount of justice makes up for a child that is abruptly gone. If you want to spend your time on revenge, well that is a better feeling than the empty sad place of loss. But, you eventually have to go there. You can boil every last person in Gitmo and you'll still have to feel that loss when they are all gone. Get your justice--believe me, you will wish that you were still chasing it. If people knew the unbearable pain that you eventually have to live with every day when your child is dead--no one would have any. And call Colin Powell for your My Lai info since he was the captain in the Americal Division who worked so hard to keep it secret. What--you think his advancement came from nothing? Grow up. They disbanded that division because it was so nasty. I was in Benning during that trial. What a farce. This was a company of American soldiers who twirled babies on their bayonets. Don't you fuck wipe right ass holes who have no idea about that war was even about open your stupid mouths. We should never have a draft and we should never fight an enemy of insurgents. Other than that there's nothing to say here. I'll post my nice father's photo that he sent with a few ears around his neck after Da Nang. You have no idea the horror that place was and what it turned people into. Fuck those Gitmo guys. What does an 18 year old boy who can't dodge the draft and sees his best friend handed a grenade in a bunch of flowers by a five year old girl have to do with terrorism? Fuck!!! Reply

Notice: Kokuaguy is in the process of composing a message that will be posted here for Deebles within the next 15 minutes or so. He just recorded most of it on her voice mail and while it will be posted here in this public forum, privacy would be appreciated. If you feel the need to reach out to Deebles you may contact Kokuaguy using the email address on his profile page and he will request permission to release her email address to you. Reply

3:23 a.m. Hawaiian Standard Time About an hour and a half ago I turned off the lights and immediately fell into a restless and occasionally painful slumber. I lurched and turned on the hard pallet I had hastily made up tonight because I was too lazy to walk 20 feet and haul my infla-bed mattress here to my “new” bedroom, two doorways from the living compartment I’ve occupied for the past 3 months. Fifteen minutes earlier I had been surprised and pleased, then saddened, to find your post as “Deebles” on the ‘My Lai Goes to Gitmo’ story, and I desperately wanted to reach out across the ocean and grab you and hold your (imagined) tear stained cheeks close to my face, dropping my own tears on your shoulder, feeling my fingers in your hair for the first time, and drinking in garden and cooking fragrances from your hands and clothes. I can’t telephone you of course because you’re sworn to some self-imposed vow (or one dictated by the overbearing Kerenin in your life) not to communicate with me, except apparently indirectly through newser posts that are at the same time excruciatingly intimate and humiliatingly public. I guess the newser group is immune to your poetic, anguished cries for attention and human contact by now, for there the latest one still sits, stark and alone (save for godawgs’s recently added, profoundly callous attempt at an ironic acknowledgment) on the page below Calley’s infamous, numbed and no doubt highly medicated visage. It hurts me terribly to look again at your loving, forlorn diatribe. I can’t bear to read it again. I want so badly to help you and I ache with the knowledge that I’ve hurt you so in the process of wanting to reach out to you. In truth, none of that hurt would have been possible of course had I not fallen in love with the idea of loving you, and of helping you, and had I not convinced myself, with some justification, that you could love me back. You’ve helped me come to see that I fall in love only with women, and invariably with women whose needs are epic in scale. And I don’t believe I’ve ever “fucked” one of them. I have made love to them, and once in my life in the initial passionate throes of such a relationship I found a woman who wanted more than anything else to make love to me, in ways I’d never known were possible before. And years later at the point when we’d at last begun openly to live the forbidden life we had so long dreamed of together, I lost her. God tore her away from me abruptly and cruelly. It was my resulting, once in a life time level of profound grieving that somehow makes me think I can understand your loss, Deebles. And it’s the thought of doing what God did to me that has kept me from inflicting upon my only child the kind of psychic injury which you suffered two years ago. Shortly before I lost contact with you last month, you asked if I’m gay, and a few minutes ago I decided to give you a detailed answer, the gist of which should be apparent from what I’ve said above. I won’t repeat... Reply