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U.S. SPECIAL FORCES ON LIBYA: "WE'RE GOING IN."

Washington, D.C.–To the relief of all opposed to America’s involvement in yet another overseas conflict, President Barack Obama made a statement during air strikes on Libya that there will be “no boots on the ground.”

But more than a handful of sources say otherwise, and one of those sources is a Marine Special Operations Regiment soldier who is being sent to fight in the nation of Libya, where an unprecedented revolution is underway.

President Barack Obama and Secretary of Defense Robert Gates lied to you about not putting combat troops into Libya
Just kidding. They're already there.

I spoke to a Marines Special Forces Lieutenant Friday who asked not to be named. He told me that in August, he will be sent to Libya.

“We’re going in, to . . . find something,” he said, shaking his head.

His eyes fell to the floor and bounced up and over my shoulder, and then into his clasped, wringing hands.

“Are you nervous?” I asked.

He stroked his stubble with one hand and with the other reached for a pitcher of beer.

“Yes,” he replied. “Very.”

He said he would soon be commanding troops throughout covert skirmishes and desert-crawling that no one will ever know took place.

The United States has returned Armed Drones to battle following NATO’s inability to stay on certain targets in Libyan air space.

Defense Sec. Robert Gates was asked during a Pentagon briefing, “Are we witnessing mission creep here? Are we going to just keep doing one slice of salami at a time as the U.S. gets further and further reinvolved in this operation?”

Gates replied:

“No, I don’t think so. I think that the president has been firm, for example, on boots on the ground. And there is no wiggle room in that that certainly I’ve been able to detect in his views. This is a very limited capability. He said from the outset that where we had unique assets that could contribute, we would do that. I think this is a very limited additional role on our part, but it does provide some additional capabilities to NATO. So no, I don’t think there’s mission creep at all.”

The young soldier went on: “Now, I told you this only because you said you wouldn’t tell anybody,” he said.

“You won’t say anything, right?” The Lieutenant looked regretful, because he knew I was a reporter. Yet somehow, his eyes told me he wanted the world to know, but for no one to know it was him who leaked the details. He seemed to want justice; justice which might prevent more of his buddies going needlessly into war. He spoke to me, like many others before him, on the condition of anonymity.

“People don’t realize what’s going on,” he explained. “We’re already in there, we’ve been there, we’re going there and we’re probably going to stay there. We rotate out, and right back in, just like anywhere else. But I don’t know what my orders are. They say we’re just going to find out what’s going on, so we know what to do next.”

Chronicle.SU correspondent and Washington Insider, Tyler Bass, had the chance to ask Colin Powell why President Obama said we don’t have boots on the ground, when we already have special forces and CIA in Libya.

Bass reported:

Tyler Bass: “How are you, General? So recently White House Spokesman Jay Carney has repeatedly said there are no boots on the ground in Libya. So has Barack Obama, but we have reports from the New York Times and other outlets saying in fact that there are, as well as CIA, which I guess is ‘shoes on the ground,’ right?

So why is – why is Barack Obama saying this? Why is Carney saying it? Or are they not aware, which I think is really unlikely? Or why are they saying it?”

Colin Powell: “They’re obviously aware of what’s going on, but what they meant by ‘no boots on the ground’ is that we were not – (off mic) –ground war – (off mic) – sending in our combat units – (off mic) – infantry or armor to fight these units on the ground, but to send in intelligence agents and –”

TB: “Or Special Forces.”

CP: “—or Special Forces –”

TB: “OK.”

CP: “—they are not going to be actively involved in fighting either the government or the rebels, but obviously it’s a way of gathering intelligence and helping the rebels fight more effectively. So there may not be boots on the ground – (off mic) – shoes on the ground – (off mic) –

The 24-year-old said he has already fought in Iraq and Afghanistan, but this is the most anxious he has ever been leading up to military action.

Upon return home, he will make many tens of thousands of dollars for about three months of action, half of which will be spent training.

“We’ll train for six weeks,” he said, “Then we go in for six.”

John McCain is currently out on a high-profile rampage through revolting Arab nations, where he has stated the United States should give firepower, weapons training and air strikes to Libyan rebel fighters, calling them patriots who are certainly not connected to Islamic extremism or Al Qaeda.

White House Press Secretary Jay Carney said the administration disagrees.

Carney said, “We think it’s for the people of Libya to decide who the head of their country is, not for the United States to do that.”

Philip Gordon, an American diplomat and high-ranking official in the State Department, said during a Pentagon briefing:

“I think it is important that we all support Mr. Khatib in his efforts, but also that we continue to talk among ourselves — that is to say, members of the broad international coalition that is working on the Libya issue — about what Libya’s political future might be, which, I want to underscore again, is really up to the people of Libya.”

“Oh. And whoever we send there and don’t tell you about,” said Tyler Bass. “I don’t want to sound alarmist or anything here, but they’re conditioning everyone for the ground invasion they say isn’t coming but eventually will.”

In other news, Obama has declared Pvt. Bradley Manning guilty before trial.


THIS MESSAGE HAS BEEN BROUGHT TO YOU GRACIOUSLY BY
THE UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT
A PROUD SPONSOR OF NEVER-ENDING WAR

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World

Libya, the last bastion of Freedom

gaddafi in shades
I reign with style.

America has rained hell upon my African nation and used Al-Qaeda as a proxy for ground war. We all know that Al-Qaeda exists only as a false-flag extension of American Imperialism. There is actually no war going on in Afghanistan. American troops are cooperating with Al-Qaeda to help cultivate Opium and spend most of their time smoking the local Kush or playing Call of Duty.

I have in my possession proof of these claims and proof that 9/11 was personally planned by George W. Bush. My African son and Muslim brother, Barack Hussein Obama can not tolerate their release because they prove he was born in Libya. I turned to my personal confidant and ally, Julian Assange, who now has made the information safe by disguising it as internal Bank of America documents.

In the coming year, I may be killed by imperialist assassins. Yet I will stand strong! I will fight to the death. The crowds of armed protesters I bombed were incited to rebellion by Operation Metal Gear, and I have been in contact with Barrett Brown. He has assured me that all these revolutions in the Arab world have been artificially created by an army of sockpuppet Facebook accounts posting false information. We are certain that these same tactics are being used to calm Americans and disseminate dissent.

The leaders of all other nations conspire against me! I have not yet ordered my armies to do anything but defend their own lives. When I issue the attack, there will be nothing but death. All in Libya will burn! The dogs of the media will choke on their own lies, and the truth will be seen in a mountain of bodies. You did this, America! You are the ones who bombed the people of Libya!

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News

Trigger the revolution!

5

A heavy fog descends over the deep holler where my cabin sits. I can’t really see to the bottom for all the fog. The trees that are visible form a wall of dark vertical lines on a light grey background. I turn on the radio for some music now that my computer has been hacked to death by Anonymous. I like this kind of weather. News is on all the music stations. There’s the blaring manic voice of a reporter straining over a chanting crowd. He is somewhere near the Lincoln memorial. I hear the word “revolution” and get a jolt of some messed up cocktail of natural stimulants. Hundreds of thousands of protesters from all around the nation have descended on Washington and are encircling the Capitol. They are demanding to be let in. They are demanding a new government. There are a large contingent of Anons in masks leading the protest, wearing Guy Fawkes masks. Oh dear god! A second shot of adrenaline makes my heart palpitate violently. Lightning turns the sky a blinding white for an instant and thunder rattles the windows. Rain begins to pummel my tin roof and the noise drowns out the radio. I wonder if the Anons know that I have discovered the secret of their masks. I shouldn’t be here anymore. The panic in the broadcaster’s voice has infected me. I decide I must pack up and leave immediately.

I toss canned food in the bottom of my backpack and stuff dirty clothes on top. I empty my banjo case. I decide that somehow Kalashnakov had banjo cases in mind while designing this assault rifle. The AK fits better than the banjo. I grab my shit and the panic turns into confidence. As I step outside, I realize that I have made my move way too late. The same group of Anons from before are back. This time, they’re waving huge novelty swords in place of signs. Waving swords in the pouring rain. I do the logical thing and quickly unlatch the banjo case. Snapping in the clip and chambering a bullet does not seem to register as a threat to the grinning Guy Fawkes masks. They continue their zombie-like approach. The porch is a 50 foot drop off in every direction. Trapped! I fire a round into the air and still get no reaction. Cornered and threatened, I take careful aim at the closest Guy Fawkes mask. As he starts to swing his sword, I reluctantly pull the trigger. I expect his head to explode, but it doesn’t. That same nasty metallic motor-oil liquid goes flying and the poor fuck screams out in pain. He drops his sword reflexively and tears the mask off with a second scream. Blood is pouring from his nose but he is alive. I don’t hesitate in blasting the shit out of the rest of the masks because they have not slowed their machine-like advance. I don’t miss a single mask. Lucky for them.

They are all sitting on the floor of my cabin, taking care of their profusely bleeding noses. The sleight framed kid who was first to swing at me speaks up. “You’re Kilgore Trout, right? You fucking asshole, what did you do to us?” He has dark hair and an intense gaze. His face is smeared with drying blood.

I am holding the Excalibur replica he was waving at me, examining file marks on the edge. It is the rough kind of sharp that tears instead of slices. I smile at him.

“Are you going to kill us?” he asks. I hand him the hilt of his sword. He pushes it away, giving me a look of pure hatred. I shoot him a brutal half-smile and regard the roomful of nose bleeders.

“You were trying to kill me.” Emphasis on ‘kill.’ I use an informal tone, as if lecturing a class. “These masks must have linked you into a collective consciousness which wants me dead for ridiculing it, or understanding it. Something like that. I don’t know why, but I will find out.” I drop their masks in the center of the pow-wow.

“I am 12, what is this?” blurts the kid, de facto spokesperson. The group titters maliciously at his clever interjection. I kick him squarely in the face to reinforce that I mean business. Blood splatters across the wall.

“What did I ever do to you! FUCK!” He wipes blood from his face and stares at his red hands, shaking with fear. “We were just protesting, next thing I know you’re holding us prisoner and beating the shit out of us.” I regain my composure. In my perception, he turns from zombie to human. I make the best apology I can, “Sorry, didn’t get your name.” I join the group and sit down on the floor.

His name is Jeff and he’s been an Anon for a few months. He joined Anonymous to support Wikileaks. His group are all young men with similar stories. Their talk naturally leads to babble about my “misinformation” and their fucking “signs.” They expound on their non-violent nature and get very ideological about it, even debating one another and correcting each other on minor errors. Typical Anons. I let them go on a few more minutes just for the sheer entertainment value. “Funny signs, these fake ass sharpened swords. Funny masks, too,” I interject. They all fall silent. Jeff, taking his first close look at the pile of black oozing masks speaks for the group. “I know I was holding a sign when I came here. We all were. Then you shot these…masks…off of us at point blank, we should all be dead. Fucking hell.”

“Fucking hell is right,” I continue, “listen to this.” I turn on the radio and make a complete run through the stations just to prove that it’s all news. Just news. The group quietly listens to the story as they take care of their nose bleeds. I load up a bong for them and go make some coffee.