The Iraq War, as do all wars, still leads to carnage and the individual psychological terrorism resultant from physical and emotional wounds

As a sad update to the posting I made a while back, the two boys (Marines) local to the SF Bay Area were tragically burried side-by-side on Veterans day. I wonder if our dear president noticed. These two boys were about the same age or younger than the Bush Sisters.

Even today, the Iraq war is highly effective at producing more smoke and bodies. Of course, this is not unlike WWI, but does this mean that we should be happy about it?

I simply don't like it. This war, fostered under spurious reasons, feels a bit like the signing of the armistice and letting 10,000 more soldiers die even after the outcome of the conflagration was decided.

Stop, hey, what's that sound, everybody look what's goin' down.
For what it's worth, this slice is from a blogger on the spot in Falluja: Kevin Sites -

"Even before first light -- U.S. Marines, soldiers and Iraqi National Guard troops swarmed into Falluja. Tanks and heavily armored Bradley Fighting used their main guns to blow up cars and buses parked down side streets -- just in case they might be booby-trapped -- packed with explosives.

"This is a frigging ghost town," says Corporal Steven Wolf, a squad leader for the vehicle the CAAT (Combined Anti Armor Team) Platoon. The streets are deserted. But there are some exceptions. The dead.

The Marines are operating with liberal rules of engagement.

"Everything to the west is weapons free," radios Staff Sgt. Sam Mortimer of Seattle, Washington. Weapons Free means the marines can shoot whatever they see -- it's all considered hostile.

Our humvees pass by a body of a man in the center of the street. There is hole through his left eyes socket where a Marine sniper round passed cleanly through.

Down another side street is the body of a second man. This one dressed in clean white sneakers and athletic pants. He is on his back -- his arms behind his head, his face seems nearly peaceful, content. Not far from him--a Russian-made Dragonov sniper rifle. From the black ammo vest strapped to his chest loose 7.62 rounds have spilled to the ground.

The Marines I'm embedded with are nearly ebullient. This looks to be a cakewalk.

One jokes they'll be sipping 'Pina Coladas by the Euphrates River by fifteen-hundred.'