Incuestionablemente argentino y nacional, pero a la vez extremadamente lúcido y pensador nacional-cosmopolita a contracorriente de los cliches clasicamente historográficos argentinos, enfoca brevemente su visión de esa especie de guerra de Argelia actual -Iraq- donde una vez mas Roma, los centurianos incapaces de mutar en pretorianos por los severos códigos de la República Imperial, se enfrentan a la sangre y al espanto en esos lugares vacios en donde merodea suelta al viento el alma del beduino. Y -donde Cristo- como bien señala el autor era todo, absolutamente todo, menos un profeta desarmado. Era un Cristo duro, viril, lejano de las tibiezas marianas que llegarían mas tarde.

Que el autor reflexione desde la posición del combatiente, no es un hecho menor, ya sabemos por Vietnam que las únicas críticas que valen y que retuercen la correosa víscera de los políticos profesionales, es la crítica del combatiente porque en general va acompañada de una rigurosa ofrenda de hemoglobina que espanta a los electores. Y desde lo político está claro que Fernandez nos alerta sobre algo esencial: las experiencias de la Guerra Fría ya no son válidas y como en 1945 la Argentina debe afrontar una redefinición, su política exterior que contemple un sistema mental sintetizado en dos variables: estados poderosos, mucho mas que nunca en la Historia y sociedades aún mucho mas desesperadas se enfrentan en el “ viejo juego de la guerra”.

Buena Lectura entonces y ¡Buenas Fiestas para Todos!

Estimados amigos:

He copiado las páginas siguientes del diario personal que - me apresuro a agregar, publica en la web - un estadounidense a quien conozco como escritor, experto en computación y estudioso de la historia. Su hábito es colocar ahí los mensajes que recibe de diversos e interesantes corresponsales, entre ellos un buen número de oficiales jóvenes de las fuerzas armadas de U.S.A., a los que agrega comentarios concisos e informados.

Su nombre (Jerry Pournelle) no creo que les diga nada (salvo quizá a Félix), pero puedo decirles que lo conozco a través de sus escritos por un buen número de años. Es un hombre serio y cuidadoso. Ideológicamente, lo clasificaríamos en la derecha norteamericana, en tanto tengamos claro que eso implica algo muy diferente tanto de la versión Alsogaray como de la de Irazusta. Se le nota nostalgia por la República que diseñaron Franklin y Jefferson, pero tiene claro que ya fue. De todos modos, lo que importa - creo - es el mensaje que recoge de un oficial yanqui en Iraq (Se acuerdan de cuando leíamos a Larteguy?).

No es por dar testimonio de antiimperialismo, que a continuación transcribo un fragmento de otro email que por esos mismos días recibía Pournelle, donde otro soldado del imperio describe con precisión militar una batalla. Simplemente, tengo presente que en esa región, durante los últimos seis mil años Dios o los dioses juzgan a los reyes y a sus pueblos con la vara de los ejércitos. Y aún cierto pescador de Galilea dijo que el no traía la paz sino una espada. Los latinoamericanos, que hemos pagado precios muy altos por nuestra afición a las guerras civiles, debemos prestar la mayor atención a las barbas de nuestros vecinos.

Abel Fernández

An Email from a Captain in Iraq

We knew there was a dinner planned with ambassador Bremer and LTG Sanchez. There were 600 seats available and all the units in the division were tasked with filling a few tables. Naturally, the 501st MI battalion got our table. Soldiers were grumbling about having to sit through another dog-and-pony show, so we had to pick soldiers to attend. I chose not to go.

But, about 1500 the G2, LTC Devan, came up to me and with a smile, asked me to come to dinner with him, to meet him in his office at 1600 and bring a camera. I didn't really care about getting a picture with Sanchez or Bremer, but when the division's senior intelligence officer asks you to go, you go. We were seated in the chow hall, fully decorated for thanksgiving when all kinds of secret service guys showed up.

That was my first clue, because Bremer's been here before and his personal security detachment is not that big. Then BG Dempsey got up to speak, and he welcomed ambassador Bremer and LTG Sanchez. Bremer thanked us all and pulled out a piece of paper as if to give a speech. He mentioned that the President had given him this thanksgiving speech to give to the troops. He then paused and said that the senior man present should be the one to give it. He then looked at Sanchez, who just smiled.

Bremer then said that we should probably get someone more senior to read the speech. Then, from behind the camouflage netting, the President of the United States came around. The mess hall actually erupted with hollering. Troops bounded to their feet with shocked smiles and just began cheering with all their hearts. The building actually shook. It was just unreal. I was absolutely stunned. Not only for the obvious, but also because I was only two tables away from the podium. There he stood, less than thirty feet away from me! The cheering went on and on and on.

Soldiers were hollering, cheering, and a lot of them were crying. There was not a dry eye at my table. When he stepped up to the cheering, I could clearly see tears running down! his cheeks. It was the most surreal moment I've had in years. Not since my wedding and Aaron being born. Here was this man, our President, came all the way around the world, spending 17 hours on an airplane and landing in the most dangerous airport in the world, where a plane was shot out of the sky not six days before.

Just to spend two hours with his troops. Only to get on a plane and spend another 17 hours flying back. It was a great moment, and I will never forget it. He delivered his speech, which we all loved, when he looked right at me and held his eyes on me. Then he stepped down and was just mobbed by the soldiers. He slowly worked his way all the way around the chow hall and shook every last hand extended. Every soldier who wanted a photo with the President got one. I made my way through the line, got dinner, then wolfed it down as he was still working the room.

You could tell he was really enjoying himself. It wasn't just a photo opportunity. This man was actually enjoying himself! He worked his way over the course of about 90 minutes towards my side of the room. Meanwhile, I took the opportunity to shake a few hands. I got a picture with Ambassador Bremer, Talabani (acting Iraqi president) and Achmed Chalabi (another member of the ruling council) and Condaleeza Rice, who was there with him.

I felt like I was drunk. He was getting closer to my table so I went back over to my seat. As he passed and posed for photos, he looked my in the eye and "How you doin', captain." I smiled and said "God bless you, sir." To which he responded "I'm proud of what you do, captain." Then moved on.

(Name withheld)

-------------------------- Roland Dobbins

En otra entrada del diario ( en una fecha muy cercana ) un fragmento de otro email

“... To many involved -- both Iraqis and U.S. soldiers -- the confrontation stood out as an exceptionally fierce battle after months of hit-and-run attacks. Witnesses described dozens of guerrillas in checkered head scarves brazenly roaming the streets in the heat of battle, U.S. soldiers firing randomly in crowded neighborhoods and civilian bystanders taking up arms against U.S. forces once the fight got underway.

For the military, the fight revealed a startling new reality about the fighters themselves -- unprecedented coordination and tactics and numbers yet unseen. Hollis says he saw a determination he did not expect from guerrillas best known for hitting, then running.

- "Everyone is with the resistance," said Safa Hamad Hassan, 22, whose cousin lay in a hospital bed with wounds to his abdomen from a tank round that landed near his house. "Saddam Hussein is finished. We are protecting our honor and our land."