Skyler Miller, "In
Focus: "Apocalypse Now"
Two great books about the Vietnam war
and
American culture
The
Things they Carried, by Tim O'Brien
Winners
and Losers, by Gloria Emerson
The U.S. and the CIA Overthrow Governments in the Cold War
Books on the U.S. Central Intelligence Agency (CIA)
The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence,
by Victor Marchetti and John Marks
CIA Diary: Inside the CIA, by Philip Agee
Mass Murder in the Twentieth Century
Therese Delpech, Savage Century: Back to Barbarism
Samanta Power, A Problem from Hell:
America and the Age of Genocide
Rummel, Death by Government: Democide
The Vietnam Veterans War Memorial
The Wall
Quotations from the Vietnam War
The Screenplay for Apocalypse Now
from "The Hollow Men"
Mistah Kurtz - he dead.
A penny for the Old Guy
We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
T.S.
Elliott, The Hollow Man, 1925
"Everywhere in the world where
knowledge is being suppressed,
knowledge that, if it were made known,
would shatter our image of the world
and force us to question ourselves--
everywhere there, Heart of Darkness
is being enacted.
"You already know that. So do I.
What is missing is the courage to
understand what we know and draw
conclusions."
Sven Lindqvist, Exterminate the Brutes
Colonel
Walter E. Kurtz:
I watched a snail crawl along the
edge of a straight razor. That's my
dream, it's my nightmare. Crawling,
slipping along the edge of a straight
razor and surviving....But we must kill
them, we must incinerate them, pig
after pig, cow after cow, village after
village, army after army, and they call
me an assassin. What do you call it
when the assassins accuse the
assassin? They lie. They lie and we
have to be merciful for those who lie,
for those nabobs. I hate them. I do
hate them.
Kurtz: "It's impossible
for words to
describe what is necessary to those
who do not know what horror means.
Horror. Horror has a face, and you
must make a friend of horror. Horror
and moral terror are your friends. If
they are not, then they are enemies
to be feared. They are truly enemies."
Kurtz: "I've seen
the horrors, horrors
that you've seen. But you have no
right to call me a murderer. You have
a right to kill me, you have a right to
do that, but you have no right to
judge me."
Kurtz: "Then I realized
they were
stronger than we. They have the
strength, the strength to do that. If I
had 10 divisions of those men, then
our troubles here would be over very
quickly. You have to have men who
are moral and at the same time who
are able to utilize their primordial
instincts to kill without feeling, without
passion, without judgment."
Kurtz:
"We must kill them. We must
incinerate them. Pig after pig. Cow
after cow. Village after village. Army
after army."
Colonel
Walter E. Kurtz: "The horror.
The horror."
"His was an impenetrable darkness.
I looked at him as you peer down at a man who is lying at the
bottom of a precipice where the sun never shines. But I had not
much time to give him, because I was helping the engine-driver
to take to pieces the leaky cylinders, to straighten a bent connecting-rod,
and in other such matters. I lived in an infernal mess of rust,
filings, nuts, bolts, spanners, hammers, ratchet drills -- things
I abominate, because I don't get on with them. I tended the little
forge we fortunately had aboard; I toiled wearily in a wretched
scrap-heap -- unless I had the shakes too bad to stand.
"One evening coming in with a
candle I was startled to hear him say a little tremulously, 'I
am lying here in the dark waiting for death.' The light was within
a foot of his eyes. I forced myself to murmur, 'Oh, nonsense!'
and stood over him as if transfixed.
"Anything approaching the change
that came over his features I have never seen before, and hope
never to see again. Oh, I wasn't touched. I was fascinated. It
was as though a veil had been rent. I saw on that ivory face the
expression of somber pride, of ruthless power, of craven terror
-- of an intense and hopeless despair. Did he live his life again
in every detail of desire, temptation, and surrender during that
supreme moment of complete knowledge? He cried in a whisper at
some image, at some vision -- he cried out twice, a cry that was
no more than a breath: " 'The horror! The horror!'
Joseph Conrad, "The Heart of Darkness"

