Concerning Che
Lawson, having seen the elephant, reminds us of hunting and fighting communists in Suffer Not the Communist (Apologies to Rudyard Kipling)
HERE’S THE REAL STORY OF A “Communist legend…”
From ‘Mr. Young’ of my Special Forces Association Chapter…
“Mr. Young.” I call him that because he looks younger, not older, each time I meet him at the SF chapter breakfasts. He trained the Bolivian Army unit and assisted them in hunting down that murderous, Cuban wannabe ‘soldier’ Che Guevara in Bolivia in 1967. They killed Guevara’s men and captured him.
The United States wanted him alive for intelligence purposes… but the Bolivian Army Commanders were petrified of Guevara and ordered a Bolivian Sergeant into the hut where a wounded Guevara was kept and shot nine rounds from an American .30 Caliber Carbine into him, killing him.
Guevara is worshiped by the impassioned young, confused, and seriously misdirected people looking for a social hero and who believe the legend… but don’t know the facts.
According to ‘Mr. Young,’ Guevara quickly became a joke of a tactician to them. The Bolivian Army and ‘Mr. Young’ couldn’t believe the blunders Guevara was making as they tracked him down.
At first, they thought he was trying to fake them out… then they realized that he was simply screwing up… and that he didn’t know what he was doing. Apparently, the same bungling strategy he was using in Bolivia caused Guevara to flee from the Belgian Congo in his attempt to overthrow that country earlier.
An incompetent tactician, terrible leader, and a poor excuse for a soldier, who rode to fame on the wave of revolution in Cuba and his personal execution of thousands of innocent Cubans, along with the bad ones.
Most ‘Bourgeoise Cubans’ that Guevara executed were simply guilty of making something of themselves… showing ambition, hard work, and building something out of nothing. Many of those good people were executed under protest by the common people who liked them. Communist hysteria outdid these protesting people.
Far from a proficient or capable soldier, Guevara began to believe the fantasy stories about himself. Like Clint Eastwood said in the movie… “A man has got to know his limitations.” Guevara didn’t, and that caused his death.
As a side note for the worshipers of Guevara, he was obsessed with not bathing and proud of his foul body smell. The story goes, one of the women in the Cuban cane fields he had sex with vomited from his body odor. His death was the best thing for clean air, hygiene and humanity since Mother Teresa.
But as the saying goes… “When the story becomes a legend, print the legend.” Che Guevara has become a legend.
The moral of the story… Do not fear the Communists any more than you fear the boogeyman… most all of their image is deception.
“As we fought for the ideals of freedom and for those on the left and right of us, we judged each other only by the most important of characteristics… nerve, courage and the willingness to stand in harm’s way for others… those abstract values that transcend the color of skin or the shape of eyes. During this respite from human pettiness, whatever our race, creed or ethnicity, at that time we were one.” – An anonymous Special Operations soldier
Concerning Rhodesia
I am a patriot believer in Individual Rights and a concerned citizen first… and from experience… I try to be a business fool last.
I comment because, even though I’ve lost most of my hatreds over the years, I still loathe Communists with every fiber in my body. They are not human… the only way in which to coexist peacefully with them is to remove them from our existence.
I’ve seen these barbarous bastards first hand… an African woman with her ears, nose and lips cut off. Her husband forced to cook them and eat them in front of the entire village in the dead of the night. Why? Simply because their son was in the Rhodesian Army. WTF!? What sane person could conceive of that?
Six-month-old babies bayoneted… a Grandmother forced to choose between her whole family living and beating her six-month-old Grandson to death with a club… ad nauseum. Those ‘cruel whites’ (sarcasm) flew this black African woman to Salisbury, Rhodesia Africa where a plastic surgeon reconstructed her face. I could tell you more stories of what I saw and know… but few would believe them.
It was one of the only wars that the Communists trained an 85-man unit to go into Rhodesia… not to fight us, but kill their own men because of their ‘Communist Zeal.’ After his election, mugabe, the head Commie mucky-mucky, herded the remaining 32 of these men into a building in Mozambique and shot each one in the head after he assassinated his General who formed this unit. Read “Blood… the ink of my autopsy” if you can find it. Written by a surviving member of this unit.
My black combat partner was scared to death of the Commies winning. He would be a hunted man… and was killed after the “Truth and Reconciliation” hearings during the Commie’s ‘Justice Killings.’ “Justice Killings” …sounds similar to the semantics dribble now coming out of the Liberal’s mouths. Both my COs beat it the hell out of there after the ‘cease fire.’
We won all the battles and defeated the terrorists… but lost the country to Commie Carter and Commie Andrew Young, along with the Leftists (Commies) in the British Government. That we won is not my opinion… but that of the Communist’s Commanding General who admitted it, after they took control. ‘Zimbabwe’ has now been raped of every last dollar for Swiss bank accounts and black and white machined gunned for protesting starvation. But you’ll never read that in the mainstream news. I know because my wife is from there and gets the bush telegraph news.
But, if you listen to the mainstream news media and American African Historians (‘Experts’ who have never set foot on the continent), those white Rhodesians were so horrible (sarcasm). Africa is the “Continent of the Apocalypse Now” …and “The Land of Blood and Tears.” I know… because I lived amongst the black Africans in the bush there for almost three years. They are beautiful and caring people… just fucked over by their ‘leaders.’
Not to appear ‘mercenary’ for listing my books. Mercenary is the term ‘Mr. Young’ jokingly calls me from my African exploits, but my name signoff is one of many I use.
Just like this one…
Jack Lawson: Honorary Member, Sully H. deFontaine Special Forces Association Chapter 51, Las Vegas, Nevada; Author of “The Slaver’s Wheel”, “A Failure of Civility,” “And We Hide From The Devil,” “Civil Defense Manual” and “In Defense.”
As one member of our Commando wrote in later years: “That country (Rhodesia) has cast a long shadow over our lives, has it not?”
As one struggles to endure the daily mundane of life, I realize he is right. He wrote on…
“Rhodesia is a woman whose name is forever written upon our hearts – against whom no earthly flesh and blood of female can ever compete. We shed our blood, sweat, tears and the blood of others answering her siren call. Now that the winds and the rains have washed away the stench of the rotting corpses, we remember only the flair of our youth as we jousted lockstep with an opponent equally as determined to rid the world of us, as we him.”
“Anoma – Anoma – Anoma!” Swahili for “I am a poor man – I am a poor man – I am a poor man!”
“But I am a rich man and she (Rhodesia) has made me so. We loved her like no other. Oh, how I miss her and my friends so!”
What amazing words, from yet another one of the guys in my Commando who appeared so ignorant that I didn’t think he knew how to read, let alone capture the spirit of then with such eloquent words.
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As with many here, I am surrounded by these useful idiots at work. Two guys against 150 harpies and sad-sack males.
It’s palestine, not Israel.
It’s “the patriarchy,” “critical whiteness studies,” “systemic racism” (ask them to define ‘systemic’; you get the stink eye). “Decolonize the curriculum.” [They invent these phrases that sound clever. Then they look for evidence.] They have no idea what they are sowing.
A couple of my schoolmates from Ireland went to Rhodesia in 1974 and joined up, one BSAP, the other the Army.
In RSA 1980 to 82 I met many others who fought.
In many respects, Rhodesia was a model of race harmony, not perfect, but not bad either.
Its 19th century style limited franchise included professional Africans, not many, but it was certainly not a racist apartheid style country like RSA at the time, and they were open to expanding the African franchise over time.
Mugabe turned out to be worse than the darkest imaginings of his bitterest opponents. His crimes vindicate the struggle against his forces.
Had Rhodesia been permitted to develop its democracy without interference, I am certain today it would be a flourishing, prosperous multi-racial democracy.
In 1967, Polish mercenary Rafal Ganowicz was asked what it felt like to take human life, “I wouldn’t know, I’ve only ever killed Communists.”
To all who read what I wrote…
The final photo of the rather hard nosed, serious and deadly looking Selous Scout bearing the Rhodesia Cross is not me… I never got any medals because, although I was brave… I was not courageous. I don’t want anyone thinking that is a photo of Jack Lawson.
My chest is bare of medals, but my soul is full of memories that I cherish.
The difference between BRAVE and COURGEOUS?
A BRAVE MAN IS… full of stupid enthusiasm and too butt-stupid to know what can happen to him as he goes into the shytte… and he eagerly goes. I was an adrenaline junkie and a bonehead about what could happen to me.
A COURAGEOUS MAN IS… fully aware of the danger and his sense of mortality, what can happen to him, maybe married or has children. Has a lot to lose… but he goes into the shytte anyway.
When I think of courageous… I think of my COs Major H., Captain Vernon, who went into the shytte for years. I told Major H. a few years ago that if he ever comes to Las Vegas I want to go gambling with him. Thirteen years is like thirteen American ‘outside the wire’ combat tours of duty fighting in your own country.
My New Zealand buddy Martin and I started alternately taking point because Vernon, with no fear in his soul was first to go into the thick of it and we were afraid his time would come up prematurely. We thought the world of this guy and would elbow our way past him as we chased terrorists. As Fire Force Commander, Major H’s Command Chopper was so shot full of holes they couldn’t patch it anymore and had to replace the entire air frame.
Then there was ‘Buzzard,’ Dredge, Taffy and scores of others… COURAGEOUS men. Some of the finest human beings I’ve had the honor to associate with… as were the Rhodesian People. Now black and white ‘Zimbabweans’ suffer in that shytte hole.
Courageous has many names associated with it… but not Jack Lawson’s.
About 15 years ago I happen to be in London doing touristy stuff and I stopped in at the V&A museum. They had a feature display in a side wing of the works of Alberto Korda, the guy who took the iconic picture of Che Guevara. It was the middle of the afternoon in the summer, so not too many people were around. I waited until the last person left the area, then walked up to the portrait of Che, hocked a loogie on it, and immediately departed the vicinity.
The day before I had visited the Imperial War Museum, and I found in a display in the basement the actual piece of paper that Neville Chamberlain had brought back from Berlin and waved about declaring this would bring peace in our time. The display had a guard standing nearby and I asked him why his presence was necessary. It turned out that old World War II veterans had a tendency to spit at the glass in front of the document..
I suppose I was inspired by those old gents.
One of my son’s college friends showed up wearing a Che t-shirt. I suggested that instead of honoring the racist, homophobic mass murderer, Che, she should instead celebrate Pol Pot who was more of an equal opportunity mass murderer. She no longer wears the shirt and avoids me, so an all around win.
“just like the tshirt”
lunch outside with a pal couple months ago at what was “The Sazerac House” on Hudson Street, NYC. a guy with his chick in tow checking&rechecking his reflection in the window, maybe thirty years old in black boots, black jeans, black jacket, black shirt pulling on his black beret and finally adjusting his black face mask.
sophomore dormroom bongsession 101.
An idiot scribbled: “…hocked a loogie on it…”
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If I’d have been there I would have knocked your stupid ass out.
It wasn’t your property fuckhead and you chose to damage it.
All because your little gurl emotions were triggered by a picture.
I bet you didn’t spit on your monitor showing the che picture above.
Then it had the gall to admit this: “…immediately departed the vicinity.”
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Like the retarded coward you are.
Pay attention people, these are the damaged automatrons you will be forced to shoot in the face in the near future. They haven’t the sense of right and wrong basic 5 yo’s should have and they suffer from extreme narcissism.
These mercs seemed horny for war, in a place not their homeland (most of them, I think) and fighting an abstract enemy. I say abstract, but I by no means am saying not-real or not-deadly. I mean the enemy were Communists, whose whole Marxist shitline was and is philosophical, specious, and imbecilic.
Some of that fervor needs to be considered here. A million patriots threw a panty-raid in DC, and the press and politicians got the vapors over it. It was a well-crafted LARP by the Left, and MAGA walked directly into it like an ambush.
Get smart, Americans. Understand the virtues of a defensive posture, and the extra virtues of an active defense. Security, communication, scouts out.
My compliments to Mr. Lawson.
Casey sed: “Understand the virtues of a defensive posture, and the extra virtues of an active defense. Security, communication, scouts out.”
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There ya go. Learn it, understand it. Initially, don’t go looking for trouble. Stay out of the way, and let the boneheads scrap among themselves. Be aware. Be ready to strike like a berserk viking if you are attacked.
Ghost- I see what you did there in your first post above.
At first I thought you were serious with the threats and insults, and then figured out it was sarcasm aimed from a “point of view” similar to what the BLM/Antifa/Liberals/Socialists/Communists would express.
1) Defending a mere picture of a Commie mass murderer from a “loogie” delivered by a person emulating what WW2 Veterans did who were physically expressing their dismay for someone who acted as Hitler’s pal.
2) Using the old “woulda-coulda-shoulda knocked you out” as a type of false bravado threat of violence while accusing the opposition of cowardice, then doubling down on it by pointing out the perceived “cowardice” of his immediate departure—while anonymously posting threats & insults via the internet.
(Kinda like the old “I would have crushed Mike Tyson’s head with my little pinkie, if only given the chance!”)
3) “All because your little gurl emotions were triggered by a picture.” CLASSIC! Excellent example of the Socialist hypocrisy so common in society- attempted demeaning of a guy using a “sexist” comparison to a female while accusing him of being “triggered”— while expressing how his comment “triggered” you. Brilliant.
4) Then the icing on the cake- “these are the damaged automatrons you will be forced to shoot in the face.” Perfect- a death threat in the form of opinionated “advice” for others to commit mass murder on those who aren’t an actual physical threat, but should be exterminated for an act or opinion that may differ from yours- committed 15 years ago.
Then the 180 degree turn in the next comment- “don’t go looking for trouble.”
That’s as brilliant a display and mockery of Liberal/Socialist hypocrisy as I’ve ever seen- almost as if one of Hillary Clinton’s speech writers did it!
Just another reason I enjoy reading your comments- your sense of humor is incredible.
I taught college, High School and Middle School for twenty-seven years. Ten of those years were in Argentina, where I taught the children of the rich and powerful of that nation. CEOs, diplomats, the ruling class: their kids all sat, at one time or another, in my History and Philosophy classes. By and large they were highly intelligent and ambitious.
I remember one girl particularly. She was a member of one of the richest families in Buenos Aires. She often wore a t-shirt with that iconic picture of Che on it. Che was, after all, an Argentine. She and I and others of her ilk discussed politics and History often. She and her rich pals were all supporters of Castro and Che. It did no good to explain to her that if ever such bestial men ever took power in Argentina, that she, her friends and their families would be put to death.
What a world.
I’d like to share with all that Jack is also a published author, of several books. He is also the author of a two book series on survival, comprehensive in realistic information. We’ve purchased several copies and gifted them to our children.
Our children do not practice prepping, my wife and me felt that Jack’s survival series is the single most important book to have on ones shelf, for new preppers and especially non prepping folks. It’s no secret that things in our nation are going down hill rapidly.
For a ready made “ model of How to accomplish many tasks, kinda plug and play. Hell being serious prepares, we also keep copies of Jack’s manual on the shelf. My thought is simply this, if I’m killed, I want my wife to have a serious no shit modeling how to protect herself, the family, and organize the block or ranch for short term/ long term hard times.
Well worth the cost,,,,what your getting is peace of mind and remedies for unpleasant situations.
My wife rates this two book collection 10 out of 10, it’s that good.
Dirk
I can’t speak to Rhodesia but I still remember visiting pre-Castro Cuba. A lot of hustle, no signs of extreme hunger.
What a difference a Che makes.
To Lance’s point re; “define systemic.”
I would add, ask these modern day Bolshevik nitwits to define “racism”. They can’t.
In fact, I avoid use of the terms racism, racist, etc. it is a construct created by Leon Trotsky as a tool of division. Racism, classism, sexism all created to sow division among the masses.
Keep everyone squabbling over issues of identity and it is easy to control and rule them.
It’s working very well here.
I attempt to be more accurate by using words like, race-baiter. Obama was an accomplished race-baiter. Or how about calling a bigot a bigot?
Taking it a little further, “elites” are not. They are ruling class oligarchs. There is nothing elite about them. They have power simply because they have money.
Liberals are anything but liberal. They are fascists, Marxist, anti-American traitors.
Conservatives- what exactly have they conserved? They are corporate apologists, globalist, Uni-party deceivers.
And so on…
ghostsniper
You’re such a ruff guy.
Bring it on birch.
I live at [ ******** ] [ Sorry folks but we’re not doing that around here. Cool out. — Gerard ]
no birches around here
sorry
plenty of oaks and maples, faggot
And then the host staggers in disguised as Gabby Hayes and sez: “Why must thar always be fightin’ and killin’? Why cain’t thar be peace in t he valley?”
Noble Host axes: “Why cain’t thar be peace in t he valley?”
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There can. Sometimes. Other times there can’t. Depends on the weather I suppose. We have a little valley that cuts crosswise through the woods backa our house and it harbors a little stream that’s mostly peaceful. Coupla weeks ago there was a powerful storm come through, oceans of rain, hurricanes of wind from every direction, power outage, the whole shebang.
2 days later mama snapper couldn’t deal. She had a load to drop and her area of contentment was not applicable due to said storm, so she put on her boots and went a looking. I first saw her in the gravel driveway outside my office front door about 7am. She was doing donuts like it was the 4th of July even though she was a week early. She’d stop, dig in with her back legs and sit there for a bit, then grunt like a boar hawg and move on a little ways and do it all over again. Seems no place was just right. Over and over she went. Down in the yard, dig, further down in the yard, dig, then back up in the driveway, dig. Musta had 20 or more false alarms.
I had to get some money-makin’ work done so I didn’t see her for a couple hours and then I took a break and went out looking for her. Nowhere to be seen but she tore up the front yard like a fleet of moles moved in, the driveway needed a good rakin’, and she was gone.
Later I went out to check the mail and there she was, propped up in my wifes giant flower bed at the end of the drive, all dug in and gruntin’ and snortin’. She was a site to behold. Prehistoric dinosaur. And she was a big’n. Maybe 25-30 pounds. Nasty lookin’. Covered in mud and green moss-algae, long evil claws, hooked yap meant for severing things that got close. So that’s what I did, got up real close. But not too close. I was watching them orbs. Evil incarnate. Not really, but you know what I mean. No emotion, just eat, have kids, eat some more. To it, fishes ain’t animals, they are groceries. Same with anything else that gets in it’s maw. I wasn’t gonna get in that maw, so I got close, but not THAT close. It’s easy for a novice to underestimate what close means when it comes to snappers.
I’m familiar with turtles and especially snappers. Since about 1991 I have saved about 300 of them from the roads. If I see a turtle on the road I stop and pick it up, bring it back here to the compound and let it loose. I’ve had 3 turtles at 1 time in my truck. 2 Boxes in the cab and a big snapper in the bed. The first snapper I ever picked up was a big’n and I almost bit off more’n I could chew, pun intended. Algae covered rocks are hard to pick up, they tend to slip out of your hands. Wrigglin’ turtles is even worse. And to make it even worser still, snappers have extra long necks. That first snappper almost took me out. See, their feets have long sharp claws and if they git you with em it would be nasty. Infection, blood, scar tissue, etc. So you have to grab them just so, so that the claws don’t get ya. Well, that positioning puts your forearms into the territory of that extra long neck with the giant old skool style can opener on the end. And they’re lightning fast too. Much faster than you’d expect. That first snapper brushed my forearm with its gaping jaws and I folded my arms close just in time. shwew. Lesson learned.
Back to the current mama snapper. I believe this same snapper was in our front yard last year, but I could be wrong about that. They all sort look the same. Does that make me a snapper raciss? shrug That one was on a mission and got right to it. Spent about 3 hours dropping some 80 large paintball size white round eggs down in the hole, then covered it up and headed back to the water. Did some research, then we waited. And we waited some more. Seems when turtles are conceived they are both boys and girls but according to the temperature of the air they will be finalized. I expected a bunch of boys. We watched close when the final day arrived. You know what? We musts blinked cause just like that (snaps finger) them little devils were gone. Right in the middle of the day. All 80 of em. The evidence was the opened shells laying all around the immediate area and the burial hole was laid wide open.
Back to the current mama snapper, again, and for the last time, I promise. I watched her close for maybe 15 mins then left her alone. I forgot about her til the next day and went out to take a look. I was almost brought to tears. She was gone, the hole was tore up, and open shells were all over the place. A raccoon ate like it was the last supper last night. That SOB!!! I know, I know, it’s nature doing it’s thing, but a part of me always like to see nature things succeed. I know I shouldn’t, but sometimes I help nature succeed.
The rain tends to put turtles on the move here in hilly ruralville. They breath air so if where they are gets too much rain they’ll head for higher ground. It’s been raining a lot around here lately and the turtles are movin’ on. Just yesterday I had to go some where and by the time I got home I had about a 6yo Box and a 10yo Paint to drop off by the pond. I picked both up on the way home. I also picked up a Box on the way to where I was going but didn’t want to leave it in the truck while I conducted my business so I escorted it off the road and about 100 feet down into the woods, hoping it wouldn’t head back to the road.
The biggest turtle I’ve saved was about a 30 pound mama snapper (you can tell the males cause the belly arches slightly upwards) that was on the road about a mile from here. The smallest, a female Box, about the size of a quarter, (she was a cutey!) right here in our driveway and that was in late October. That little scudder should have already been in the ground because snow sometimes flies here in late Oct early Nov. I suspected there was an issue with it cause it wasn’t bigger than it was so I made a little haven for it and kept it in my office all winter, and released it by the pond in April. Because it was in my heated office all winter it didn’t hibernate and sort of got a jump start on it’s peers as far as eating and growing goes. To be honest, at that age I couldn’t tell if it was a male or female. Once, I sat it on my mutt Shannon’s snoot and she almost went crosseyed. I likes me sum turtles and yes, there is peace in the valley most of the time. And remember, it’s turtles all the way down. Look it up.
If I could look it up I’d be at the bottom. Oh wait…..
Speaking of snappers-
Did you hear the one about the hot blonde girl that went on a 2 day deep-sea fishing expedition with 15 guys?
She came back with a big red snapper.