Whilst young British soldiers are being sent to fight and die in Iraq and Afghanistan for the interests of the Corporatocracy, they are being betrayed by the Labour government that is supposed to be ensuring their safety.
Our troops are being stabbed in the back by our own politicians.
Whilst they are fighting to survive with the sub-standard kit issued by the army, the British government is spending billion of pounds on funding the Northern Rock bank.
It appears that keeping banks alive is more important to the British government than keeping British troops alive.
The loss of Lt-Col Stuart Tootal from the ranks of the British Army is a tragic losss to the British nation.
Perhaps when the BNP take power we could invite him to run and assist in the creation of the Fourth Wing of the British Army that we intend to set up, which is the Assymetric Warfare section to deal with terrorists, narco-states, the smugglers of WMD and explosives into the country and the creation of a surgical strike unit with global reach to target and destroy known terrorists and the individuals and groups that fund terrorism or who threaten the national security interests of the UK.
One of the Army's brightest officers, marked by many as a future general, has resigned, it emerged yesterday, in protest at the Government's failure to honour the Military Covenant. Lt-Col Stuart Tootal resigned his command of the 3rd Battalion, the Parachute Regiment, citing "appalling" and "shoddy" treatment of troops, particularly regarding issues over levels of pay, lack of training equipment and shortcomings in housing and healthcare.
Speaking to The Independent on Sunday yesterday, his father, RAF Gp Capt Patrick Tootal OBE DL, supported his son's decision: "Of course I'm sad that he's gone but I understand his reasons and I respect them." From his home in Kent, the retired officer, who served for 33 years, attacked the Government over its failures to back the armed forces. "They're beginning to address some equipment issues but it's going to take time. There is no money in the budget and you wonder where the priorities are when you see £32bn, almost what we spend on defence, being spent on shoring up Northern Rock," he said.
"The thing that does worry me is that we're not supporting the war as citizens, what we are supporting is the troops that are doing the Government's bidding. We do not treat our servicemen with the respect that they deserve... when they are injured or wounded and have left the service there's not much follow up except from charities. The Government has got to realise that we are in a long-term war in Afghanistan. We're putting 18-year-olds out there who are fighting pretty much 24 hours a day for virtually six months and then they're coming back to grotty quarters. How are you going to sustain an Army which is like that?"
He is also critical of the job-sharing role of Des Browne, who acts as Secretary of State for Scotland and Defence: "What message does it send to armed forces when we've got a part-time defence minister? The Government needs to match its rhetoric with the funding that is needed to fight the war in Afghanistan. The fact is there is no extra money to produce the support that is required. When a chap comes back with no legs, a medal is very nice but it doesn't actually solve his housing problems."
This is a short poem about the experience of British troops - betrayed by the government and sent to fight in a war without proper resources then abandoned in sub-standard houses when they return maimed and then 'honoured' with two minutes of silence once a year then forgotten.
For What Did they Die.
For what did you go and fight my brave son,
was it for Glory, Queen and Country,
or so that politicians and corporations,
Could plunder for profit black gold.
And how will you fight on now my brave son,
when a bank is worth more than your life,
abandoned in the ever drifting desert sands,
with a rusting rifle that jams in your hand.
And how did your mates die my brave son,
was it in battle with pride and honour,
or killed by an I.E.D on a busy city street,
for the lack of a spare kevlar jacket.
And how will you live now my brave son,
when your young limbs are left as stumps,
life alone on a pittance in a high rise prison,
that the council mockingly call a home.
And who will remember all those brave sons,
when we who are left are lost to time,
monuments will be built to mask the betrayal,
as two minutes of silence mock the maimed.