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RE: Taxes, Corruption
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Richard Jernigan
Posts: 3430
Joined: Jan. 20 2004
From: Austin, Texas USA
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 RE: Taxes, Corruption (in reply to Alatriste)
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This causes me seriously to consider my manliness.
In high school, I was on our state champion basketball team. But I was a second stringer, and basketball is not nearly as manly as American football. Our school didn't have an American football team, so: Wimp.
I lettered in soccer (football), but we were only runner up in state tournament: Wimp
At university, I joined the cave exploring society, exploring caves in Texas and northeastern Mexico. In Mexico we set a depth record that held for a few years. A couple of buddies and I did scuba dives in some caves. But there were girl spelunkers. Bought a BSA 650 cc Super Rocket bike,rode from Austin to Acapulco and back a couple times. Girls do it now: Wimp
In 1961 I got drafted into the U.S. Army. I come from a family with a long military tradition. Four of my ancestors served as officers under General Washington. My ancestors participated in every U.S. war since. I had a father and 8 uncles in the military in World War II. My father was a military officer. So once in the Army I went for jump school (airborne infantry) and Ranger training. We did build some bridges in Company C, 4th Engineer Battalion, 4th Infantry Division, but we didn't drill any oil wells or do any bullfighting. Women do the same nowadays. Kara Hultgreen worked for me as an engineer before she became the first female U.S. Navy fighter pilot. Makes me a Wimp.
After the Army I was recruited to paramilitary work for an Agency of the U.S. Government. Seemed like the thing for a 24-year old son of a long military tradition to do, fighting communism and all that. Ranger Instructor School, Infantry Officer School, Special Forces training. I was assigned to Nicaragua in the early 1960s, to train and then to lead a company--103 men--of a Special Operations Force. The FSLN was just getting started, they weren't the Sandinistas yet.
After a year's training we operated in northeastern Nicaragua. After about another year, a friend from Infantry Officer School and I figured out that we were not so much fighting communism as continuing the 400-year old war of the whites against the Indians while the Somozas blew smoke up Uncle Sam's ass. Next time we rotated back to Managua, we resigned.
The Somozas' continued repression. That and their theft of most of the aid money that flowed in after the 1972 Managua earthquake soon made the Sandinistas into a real opposition force. Some of the guys I trained went over to the Sandinistas ten years later, in outrage against the Somozas.
Two years of Agency training, a year training the Nicaraguans to jump out of planes and kill Indians, a year in combat in the jungle, some guys went over to the Sandinistas ten years later: Me, a Wimp.
After getting back to Texas I bought a Harley, hung with my cousin Tommy in San Antonio. He built engines for the Bandidos motorcylce gang. Most people would say the Bandidos are as bad as the Hell's Angles. Some people would say, worse. But Tommy and I weren't real gangsters. A few bar fights, but no murders, serious beatings, dope deals, pimping or other manly activities. Score me a Wimp.
Calmed down a little, went back to University, got degrees in math and physics. Bought another Harley. Among other trips rode from Austin to Seattle to Tapachula via San Antonio, back to Austin one summer--but girls do it now.
Settled down, got married, raised two kids, put them both through University, one through law school--like millions of other schmucks when I should have been out riding my motorcycle and drilling oil wells. Wimp.
Got a job in the defense business. First job, keep the Soviet missile defense radars from working if the balloon went up and the end of the world came. One thing led to another. By the time the end of the Cold War came, I was in on several black projects, had a drawer full of Intelligence tickets. By 1989 all my clients had the word Secretary in their job titles, except for one Senior Vice President of Lockheed Missiles and Space Company and another from Boeing. Things got a bit dicey a few times during the Cold War, but in the end neither we nor the Soviets were up for bringing on the end of the world. In the end, the Soviets caved. They would have caved without me, but I did my part. However, it was indoor work, no heavy lifting, so: Wimp
Cold war over, I went to the big U.S. Base on Kwajalein in the Central Pacific. Was the boss of a billion bucks worth of the USA's biggest most sophisticated radars. Two-hundred-fifty employees ranged from M.I.T. and Stanford Phd's to semiliterate mechanical helpers. Again, mostly indoor work for me. A little climbing on 200 ft towers, but not really to work, the boss just looked at stuff and bossed the sub-bosses around: Wimp
Got back into scuba diving, 5,000 dives all over the Pacific. But there are plenty of women divers and underwater photographers as good as I am: Wimp
But there is one area where I may qualify for manliness. Alatriste, you object to the intellectual content of my posts. Intellectual stuff is un-manly. Fortunately, I can assure you I have done dumb stuff.
Scuba diving in caves in the late 1950s was definitely dumb. No specialized equipment or training had been developed at that time. We were just lucky we didn't get into trouble and kill ourselves.
I nearly killed myself once on the BSA Super Rocket, and more than a few people driving cars took a shot at doing it for me.
In the jungle I jumped a full company into an area where people were on the ground shooting up at us. Very few people on the ground, but still, a few. It is really hard to hit a paratrooper with small arms fire from the ground, while the jumpers are fairly high. When we hit the ground, the Indians just faded away. Nobody got hurt. But if there are people on the ground shooting at you when you jump, chances are your landing zone (LZ) is going to be pretty hot. Jumping into a hot LZ seriously violates a basic principle of airborne infantry tactics. I heard about it. In fact, I got my ass chewed all the way up to my earlobes. Dumb.
North of Monterrey on the Harley, we decided to take the old twisty road up to the summit and watch the sunset. Coming down the other side of the pass in the dark, zooming right along, we rounded a turn into a herd of cattle on the road. We got through them, kicking cows, beating them on the snout with our fists, but when we got out the other side, we were surprised we hadn't gotten hooked, kicked or stomped. Going that fast on that road, in the dark: Dumb.
My buddies and I dove every weekend, and often a day or two during the week the whole 18 years I was at Kwaj. We were used to handling a variety of conditions. As divemaster on a club trip I put 40 divers into current that was stronger than most of them knew how to handle. If the water is shallow, you just go to the the bottom, grab on to the rocks, and work hand over hand. But 25 or 30 of the 40 divers tried to swim against the current, used up all their air, didn't have any fun, and came near getting in trouble. During my years as divemaster I rescued maybe four or five panicked divers. Nothing serious, people just got into situations that scared them and lost it. But that current situation could easily have turned into real trouble and overwhelmed me and my two rescue divers. Dumb move for divemaster.
So, i've done dumb stuff. But this raises an important question, Alatriste. Since you are an expert on manliness, and intellectual stuff is un-manly, just how dumb do you have to be, to be considered manly? Do I qualify? Gosh, I hope so...
RNJ
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Date Jun. 4 2011 8:09:05
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BarkellWH
Posts: 3458
Joined: Jul. 12 2009
From: Washington, DC
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RE: Taxes, Corruption (in reply to Richard Jernigan)
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quote:
Cold war over, I went to the big U.S. Base on Kwajalein in the Central Pacific. Was the boss of a billion bucks worth of the USA's biggest most sophisticated radars. Two-hundred-fifty employees ranged from M.I.T. and Stanford Phd's to semiliterate mechanical helpers.
Richard,
I am well-aware of Kwajalein. During 1991-1993, I was assigned to the U.S. State Department's Bureau of East Asian and Pacific Affairs, to the office that was responsible for our relations with the Marshall Islands, Micronesia, and Palau. I traveled to Kwajalein on several occasions, since one of our primary responsibilities was to protect the U.S. interest in maintaining Kwajalein.
In 1993, a vessel that was bound for Hawaii to off-load 525 Chinese illegally into the U.S. was diverted to Kwajalein by a U.S. Coast Guard cutter. I spent a month on Kwajalein as the State Department Liaison Officer, working with a Brigadier General and his staff from CINCPAC HI, the UN High Commissioner for Refugees representative, the RMI government, and others to determine if any of the Chinese had a valid claim to refugee status and to keep all of them together in the temporary camp that was set up. After a month, we determined that none of the Chinese had a valid claim to refugee status. We chartered four aircraft from Indonesia, and the 525 chinese were all flown back to Xian, China.
A very interesting little piece of real estate, indeed!
Cheers,
Bill
_____________________________
And the end of the fight is a tombstone white,
With the name of the late deceased,
And the epitaph drear, "A fool lies here,
Who tried to hustle the East."
--Rudyard Kipling
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Date Jun. 4 2011 19:38:06
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Richard Jernigan
Posts: 3430
Joined: Jan. 20 2004
From: Austin, Texas USA
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RE: Taxes, Corruption (in reply to BarkellWH)
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quote:
ORIGINAL: BarkellWH
Richard,
In 1993, a vessel that was bound for Hawaii to off-load 525 Chinese illegally into the U.S. was diverted to Kwajalein by a U.S. Coast Guard cutter. I spent a month on Kwajalein as the State Department Liaison Officer, working with a Brigadier General and his staff from CINCPAC HI, the UN High Commissioner for Refugees representative, the RMI government, and others to determine if any of the Chinese had a valid claim to refugee status and to keep all of them together in the temporary camp that was set up. After a month, we determined that none of the Chinese had a valid claim to refugee status. We chartered four aircraft from Indonesia, and the 525 chinese were all flown back to Xian, China.
A very interesting little piece of real estate, indeed!
Cheers,
Bill
Small world, Bill!
I had been at Kwaj a couple of years when that happened. I lived 50 miles away on Roi-Namur at the north end of the atoll where the big radars are. I was down to Kwaj at least once a week for the Site Manager's staff meeting, usually more often than that.
I remember looking down from the commuter plane at the improvised stockade where the Chinese were kept in tents. Right next to the rocket storage facilities with tons of dirt piled on top, in case one of them torched off accidentally!
But I don't think there were any rockets in there at the time...not big ones anyhow.
RNJ
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Date Jun. 4 2011 20:11:15
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BarkellWH
Posts: 3458
Joined: Jul. 12 2009
From: Washington, DC
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RE: Taxes, Corruption (in reply to Richard Jernigan)
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Richard,
For the next two weeks, June 6-20, I will be in your neck of the woods--Killeen-Fort Hood--until I return to Washington, DC on 20 June. Arrived in Austin yesterday (Sunday) picked up my rental car, and drove to Killeen. Since retiring from the U.S. Foreign Service and State Department in 1999, I have kept my hand in the business by consulting with and taking assignments for both the State department and a Defense Department contractor. I am currently doing some consulting work at Fort Hood.
As you know, it is about a 1 1/2 hour drive from Austin to Killeen, and I don't know whether or not it would be possible to meet for dinner, but it would make for a nice evening if we could. With my schedule, it would not be possible to meet in Austin, but perhaps in Killeen, or somewhere in between?
Cheers,
Bill
_____________________________
And the end of the fight is a tombstone white,
With the name of the late deceased,
And the epitaph drear, "A fool lies here,
Who tried to hustle the East."
--Rudyard Kipling
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Date Jun. 6 2011 12:41:44
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Kate
Posts: 1827
Joined: Jul. 8 2003
From: Living in Granada, Andalucía
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RE: Taxes, Corruption (in reply to Alatriste)
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quote:
ORIGINAL: Alatriste
Franco was good for Spain and he engineered a good transition having groomed Juan Carlos himself.
Not everyone would agree with that statement ! As I understand it Franco did not engineer the transition per se, as by that time he was already dead. He had been grooming Juan Carlos to take over the dictatorship but after his death Juan Carlos went against him and announced democratic elections.
Franco was good for Spain. In what way ? I am not sure the Spanish who starved would agree with you, not the people who had their land approriated and were made to work for the state, nor the prisoners of war who were not released until after his death, not the 40,000 who built the valley of the fallen, nor the Republicans who were shot dead and buried in mass graves nor the exiles who had to flee their country and the evacuees seperated from their families.
If Franco was good for Spain, it was only for the favoured few, who still retain wealth and power today thanks to him.
_____________________________
Emilio Maya Temple
http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B000CA6OBC
http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/emiliomaya
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Date Jun. 7 2011 11:03:00
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BarkellWH
Posts: 3458
Joined: Jul. 12 2009
From: Washington, DC
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RE: Taxes, Corruption (in reply to Alatriste)
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quote:
Franco was good for Spain
In addition to Kate's list of specific events and incidents which bring into question Franco's value to Spain as an authoritarian dictator, I would add that, more broadly, Franco kept Spain in a political, economic, and cultural convent during his reign. While much of Western Europe developed democratically, with open economic systems, and with cultural freedom, Franco kept Spain in an authoritarian cocoon, with a form of economic corporatism that stifled entrepreneurship, and with a cultural conservatism that denied any freedom of cultural expression that he considered too avant-garde.
In my opinion, the only premise upon which one might conceivably consider Franco good for Spain (as opposed to other alternatives) would be if the Republicans had won the Spanish Civil War, and, since the Soviet Union was so heavily involved on the Republican side, the Soviets then exerted sufficient influence and coercion on the Republicans that they established a Soviet or Communist form of government in Spain. This, of course, is exactly what happened in post-World War II Eastern Europe. The differences between the Soviets in Spain and the Soviets in Eastern Europe, though, suggest that this would not have been a foreordained outcome. In Post-World War II Eastern Europe, the Soviets had their armies in control of Eastern Europe, occupying the territiroy. In Spain, they had military personnel fighting and advising the Republicans, but they did not have entire army divisions in Spain. All things considered, Spain would have flourished much earlier had Franco not been in power all those years.
Cheers,
Bill
_____________________________
And the end of the fight is a tombstone white,
With the name of the late deceased,
And the epitaph drear, "A fool lies here,
Who tried to hustle the East."
--Rudyard Kipling
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Date Jun. 7 2011 22:02:35
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Richard Jernigan
Posts: 3430
Joined: Jan. 20 2004
From: Austin, Texas USA
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RE: Taxes, Corruption (in reply to Kate)
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I started going to Mexico in the mid-1950s. The part of Mexico City where I usually stayed had a sizable population of Spanish exiles. They had left after Franco won, or when they saw the handwriting on the wall. Many of the restaurants, shops and other businesses were owned by Spaniards. The hotel where I usually stayed was owned by Spanish exiles. I stayed there fairly often until the late 1980s when I moved to California. The owners, my wife, children and I became friends. The hotel restaurant was very popular for the mid-day meal. There I met many local Spanish business men.
When I went to Spain for the first time in the early 1960s, my impression of Franco had been strongly influenced by my Spanish friends and acquaintances. Preparing for bed the first night in Madrid, I looked at the coins carefully for the first time. The reverse had the Falangist eagle hovering protectively over the crown of Spain. Was there a cross as well? On the obverse was the image of the dictator. The motto was, "Francisco Franco, por la Gracia de Dios, Caudillo de España." I felt a surge of both anger and nausea, recalling the stories I had heard in Mexico.
During the Franco era, on visits to Spain the middle and upper classes sometimes put me in mind of creatures trapped in ancient amber. Interesting and exotic, but locked in the past, asphyxiated by the dictatorship.
The men in tweed jackets, smoking their pipes, with women friends in plaid skirts, cardigans and sensible shoes, listening to Rafael Romero "El Gallina" and Périco El del Lunar at Zambra in Madrid, were the intellectual representatives of left wing revolt. But they were very, very careful about what they said.
They spoke of repressive dictatorships in Latin America or Eastern Europe, of the arbitrary violation of human rights, the absence of the rule of law, in foreign countries. But a brief significant glance invited you to apply their comments to Spain.
Once the flamencos figured out I wasn't some kind of weird gringo spy, and could keep compás if things were fairly simple, they were open and heated in their burning resentment and rage against the dictator.
Just two or three years after Franco's death, I was flying to Madrid, first class, on business. The well dressed Spanish woman of a certain age sitting next to me said, "Since Franco died it is unsafe to walk the streets of Madrid at night."
This didn't agree with my impressions at all. Eventually I figured out that she meant that on a few streets, late at night, one might see a few prostitutes.
About the same time, maybe on the same trip, an election campaign was in progress. I sat in the lounge of an old, upscale men's club in Granada. There were leather armchairs, the aroma of Cuban cigars and cognac. Many of the chairs faced a large window made of one-way glass, looking out onto a good sized square. Into the square came a pickup truck with a P.A. system. Mounted on the truck was a woman in Army fatigues. She grasped the microphone and exhorted the listeners to vote for the Communist party.
I thought some of my older companions would die of heart attack or stroke.
Sometime in the 1980s I took the daughter of a good American friend to dinner at Botín. It wasn't overrun by tourists yet, the food and service still excellent. She was at college in Madrid.
Making conversation, she mentioned that just a few days before, some Gypsies had killed a policeman on the street in Madrid, in broad daylight. She theorized the killing was revenge for something the policeman may have done against the Gypsies' family. It was a rare enough event to be the topic of conversation. Seeing my complete astonishment, she asked what caused it.
I said, "While Franco was alive, if three or four Gypsies had killed a policeman, the Guardia Civil would have gone out and killed the first 25 or 30 Gypsies they came across."
She had known me all her life, but looked a bit incredulous.
Franco took a long time to die. A very long time. At one point he gave up his duties and turned them over to Juan Carlos, only to recover and return to active rule.
Finally he fell into a coma and was placed on life support. He lingered for three weeks. Rumors circulated that he was being kept "alive" so he could die on 20 November, the anniversary of the death of Primo Rivera. That was the day Franco was finally taken off life support.
Every night on the TV news in America, there were reports on Franco's declining health and lapse into a coma. It seemed to go on for months while Spain and the rest of the world waited.
For several weeks after he finally did die, the pretend newscaster on the comedy show Saturday Night Live would announce breathlessly, "This just in from Madrid: Generalissimo Francisco Franco is still dead!"
But he's not dead. He lives in history. That history will affect the life of Spain at least until Spaniards of my age are gone--probably far longer.
RNJ
...time for dinner. I think I'll have the chicken with chopped tomatoes and black olives, with Moroccan spices that I figured out while staying at the Hotel Rif in Tangier.
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Date Jun. 8 2011 23:07:18
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