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14 Feb 2012
HOME
Pharma/CDC on Brain
damage from vaccines, Fauci, Phages, Bioweapons manufacture
HHS.gov is
Incompetent; BMJ calls fraud "crime.")
Official: CFIDS and MS-Lyme are the
same disease; Epstein-Barr
CDC Greed
(won't answer the FOIA)
ELISA = arbitrary cutoff.
Disclaimer
Overview
TUSKEGEE - By Jerry Leonard
1998, CIA Oilmen & Israelis plan to overthrow
Saddam for the oil.
Bush/Gore Oil/War-(Oct,2000)
Bush's own explainer (Oct
2000):
Iraq Oil
Iraq was an oil-theft war.
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http://www.courant.com/news/nationworld/ats-ap_top17aug12,0,3333404.story?page=3&coll=sns-newsnation-headlines
Sickened Iraq Vets Cite Depleted Uranium
By DEBORAH HASTINGS AP National Writer
August 12 2006, 10:02 PM EDT
NEW YORK --
It takes at least 10 minutes and a large glass of orange juice to wash
down all the pills -- morphine, methadone, a muscle relaxant, an
antidepressant, a stool softener. Viagra for sexual dysfunction. Valium
for his nerves.
Four
hours later, Herbert Reed will swallow another 15 mg of morphine to cut
the pain clenching every part of his body. He will do it twice more
before the day is done.
Since he left a bombed-out train depot
in Iraq, his gums bleed. There is more blood in his urine, and still
more in his stool. Bright light hurts his eyes. A tumor has been
removed from his thyroid. Rashes erupt everywhere, itching so badly
they seem to live inside his skin. Migraines cleave his skull. His
joints ache, grating like door hinges in need of oil.
There is
something massively wrong with Herbert Reed, though no one is sure what
it is. He believes he knows the cause, but he cannot convince anyone
caring for him that the military's new favorite weapon has made him
terrifyingly sick.
In the sprawling bureaucracy of the
Department of Veterans Affairs, he has many caretakers. An internist, a
neurologist, a pain-management specialist, a psychologist, an
orthopedic surgeon and a dermatologist. He cannot function without his
stupefying arsenal of medications, but they exact a high price.
"I'm just a zombie walking around," he says.
Reed
believes depleted uranium has contaminated him and his life. He now
walks point in a vitriolic war over the Pentagon's arsenal of it --
thousands of shells and hundreds of tanks coated with the metal that is
radioactive, chemically toxic, and nearly twice as dense as lead.
A
shell coated with depleted uranium pierces a tank like a hot knife
through butter, exploding on impact into a charring inferno. As tank
armor, it repels artillery assaults. It also leaves behind a fine
radioactive dust with a half-life of 4.5 billion years.
Depleted
uranium is the garbage left from producing enriched uranium for nuclear
weapons and energy plants. It is 60 percent as radioactive as natural
uranium. The U.S. has an estimated 1.5 billion pounds of it, sitting in
hazardous waste storage sites across the country. Meaning it is
plentiful and cheap as well as highly effective.
Reed says he
unknowingly breathed DU dust while living with his unit in Samawah,
Iraq. He was med-evaced out in July 2003, nearly unable to walk because
of lightning-strike pains from herniated discs in his spine. Then began
a strange series of symptoms he'd never experienced in his previously
healthy life.
At Walter Reed Army Medical Center in
Washington, D.C, he ran into a buddy from his unit. And another, and
another, and in the tedium of hospital life between doctor visits and
the dispensing of meds, they began to talk.
"We all had migraines. We all felt sick," Reed says. "The doctors said, 'It's all in your head.' "
Then
the medic from their unit showed up. He too, was suffering. That made
eight sick soldiers from the 442nd Military Police, an Army National
Guard unit made up of mostly cops and correctional officers from the
New York area.
But the medic knew something the others didn't.
Dutch
marines had taken over the abandoned train depot dubbed Camp Smitty,
which was surrounded by tank skeletons, unexploded ordnance and shell
casings. They'd brought radiation-detection devices. The readings were
so hot, the Dutch set up camp in the middle of the desert rather than
live in the station ruins.
"We got on the Internet," Reed said, "and we started researching depleted uranium."
Then they contacted The New York Daily News, which paid for sophisticated urine tests available only overseas.
Then they hired a lawyer.
* __
Reed,
Gerard Matthew, Raymond Ramos, Hector Vega, Augustin Matos, Anthony
Yonnone, Jerry Ojeda and Anthony Phillip all have depleted uranium in
their urine, according to tests done in December 2003, while they
bounced for months between Walter Reed and New Jersey's Fort Dix
medical center, seeking relief that never came.
The analyses
were done in Germany, by a Frankfurt professor who developed a depleted
uranium test with Randall Parrish, a professor of isotope geology at
the University of Leicester in Britain.
The veterans, using
their positive results as evidence, have sued the U.S. Army, claiming
officials knew the hazards of depleted uranium, but concealed the
risks.
The Department of Defense says depleted uranium is powerful and safe, and not that worrisome.
Four
of the highest-registering samples from Frankfurt were sent to the VA.
Those results were negative, Reed said. "Their test just isn't as
sophisticated," he said. "And when we first asked to be tested, they
told us there wasn't one. They've lied to us all along."
The
VA's testing methodology is safe and accurate, the agency says. More
than 2,100 soldiers from the current war have asked to be tested; only
8 had DU in their urine, the VA said.
The term depleted
uranium is linguistically radioactive. Simply uttering the words can
prompt a reaction akin to preaching atheism at tent revival. Heads
shake, eyes roll, opinions are yelled from all sides.
"The
Department of Defense takes the position that you can eat it for
breakfast and it poses no threat at all," said Steve Robinson of the
National Gulf War Resource Center, which helps veterans with various
problems, including navigating the labyrinth of VA health care. "Then
you have far-left groups that ... declare it a crime against humanity."
Several countries use it as weaponry, including Britain, which fired it during the 2003 Iraq invasion.
An
estimated 286 tons of DU munitions were fired by the U.S. in Iraq and
Kuwait in 1991. An estimated 130 tons were shot toppling Saddam
Hussein.
Depleted uranium can enter the human body by
inhalation, the most dangerous method; by ingesting contaminated food
or eating with contaminated hands; by getting dust or debris in an open
wound, or by being struck by shrapnel, which often is not removed
because doing so would be more dangerous than leaving it.
Inhaled,
it can lodge in the lungs. As with imbedded shrapnel, this is doubly
dangerous -- not only are the particles themselves physically
destructive, they emit radiation.
A moderate voice on the
divisive DU spectrum belongs to Dan Fahey, a doctoral student at the
University of California at Berkeley, who has studied the issue for
years and also served in the Gulf War before leaving the military as a
conscientious objector.
"I've been working on this since '93
and I've just given up hope," he said. "I've spoken to successive
federal committees and elected officials ... who then side with the
Pentagon. Nothing changes."
At the other end are a collection
of conspiracy-theorists and Internet proselytizers who say using such
weapons constitutes genocide. Two of the most vocal opponents recently
suggested that a depleted-uranium missile, not a hijacked jetliner,
struck the Pentagon in 2001.
"The bottom line is it's more
hazardous than the Pentagon admits," Fahey said, "but it's not as
hazardous as the hard-line activist groups say it is. And there's a
real dearth of information about how DU affects humans."
There
are several studies on how it affects animals, though their results are
not, of course, directly applicable to humans. Military research on
mice shows that depleted uranium can enter the bloodstream and come to
rest in bones, the brain, kidneys and lymph nodes. Other research in
rats shows that DU can result in cancerous tumors and genetic
mutations, and pass from mother to unborn child, resulting in birth
defects.
Iraqi doctors reported significant increases in birth defects and childhood cancers after the 1991 invasion.
Iraqi
authorities "found that uranium, which affected the blood cells, had a
serious impact on health: The number of cases of leukemia had increased
considerably, as had the incidence of fetal deformities," the U.N.
reported.
Depleted uranium can also contaminate soil and
water, and coat buildings with radioactive dust, which can by carried
by wind and sandstorms.
In 2005, the U.N. Environmental
Program identified 311 polluted sites in Iraq. Cleaning them will take
at least $40 million and several years, the agency said. Nothing can
start until the fighting stops.
* __
Fifteen years
after it was first used in battle, there is only one U.S. government
study monitoring veterans exposed to depleted uranium.
Number of soldiers in the survey: 32. Number of soldiers in both Iraq wars: more than 900,000.
The
study group's size is controversial -- far too small, say experts
including Fahey -- and so are the findings of the voluntary,
Baltimore-based study.
It has found "no clinically
significant" health effects from depleted uranium exposure in the study
subjects, according to its researchers.
Critics say the VA has
downplayed participants' health problems, including not reporting one
soldier who developed cancer, and another who developed a bone tumor.
So
for now, depleted uranium falls into the quagmire of Gulf War Syndrome,
from which no treatment has emerged despite the government's spending
of at least $300 million.
About 30 percent of the 700,000 men
and women who served in the first Gulf War still suffer a baffling
array of symptoms very similar to those reported by Reed's unit.
Depleted
uranium has long been suspected as a possible contributor to Gulf War
Syndrome, and in the mid-90s, veterans helped push the military into
tracking soldiers exposed to it.
But for all their efforts,
what they got in the end was a questionnaire dispensed to
homeward-bound soldiers asking about mental health, nightmares, losing
control, exposure to dangerous and radioactive chemicals.
But,
the veterans persisted, how would soldiers know they'd been exposed?
Radiation is invisible, tasteless, and has no smell. And what
exhausted, homesick, war-addled soldier would check a box that would
only send him or her to a military medical center to be poked and
prodded and questioned and tested?
It will take years to
determine how depleted uranium affected soldiers from this war. After
Vietnam, veterans, in numbers that grew with the passage of time,
complained of joint aches, night sweats, bloody feces, migraine
headaches, unexplained rashes and violent behavior; some developed
cancers.
It took more than 25 years for the Pentagon to
acknowledge that Agent Orange -- a corrosive defoliant used to melt the
jungles of Vietnam and flush out the enemy -- was linked to those
sufferings.
It took 40 years for the military to compensate
sick World War II vets exposed to massive blasts of radiation during
tests of the atomic bomb.
In 2002, Congress voted to not let that happen again.
It
established the Research Advisory Committee on Gulf War Veterans'
Illnesses -- comprised of scientists, physicians and veterans
advocates. It reports to the secretary of Veterans Affairs.
Its
mandate is to judge all research and all efforts to treat Gulf War
Syndrome patients against a single standard: Have sick soldiers been
made better?
The answer, according to the committee, is no.
"Regrettably,
after four years of operation neither the Committee nor (the) VA can
report progress toward this goal," stated its December 2005 report.
"Research has not produced effective treatments for these conditions
nor shown that existing treatments are significantly effective."
And so time marches on, as do soldiers going to, and returning from, the deserts of Iraq.
* __
Herbert
Reed is an imposing man, broad shouldered and tall. He strides into the
VA Medical Center in the Bronx with the presence of a cop or a soldier.
Since the Vietnam War, he has been both.
His hair is perfect,
his shirt spotless, his jeans sharply creased. But there is something
wrong, a niggling imperfection made more noticeable by a bearing so
disciplined. It is a limp -- more like a hitch in his get-along.
It is the only sign, albeit a tiny one, that he is extremely sick.
Even
sleep offers no release. He dreams of gunfire and bombs and soldiers
who scream for help. No matter how hard he tries, he never gets there
in time.
At 54, he is a veteran of two wars and a 20-year
veteran of the New York Police Department, where he last served as an
assistant warden at the Riker's Island prison.
He was in perfect health, he says, before being deployed to Iraq.
According
to military guidelines, he should have heard the words depleted uranium
long before he ended up at Walter Reed. He should have been trained
about its dangers, and how to avoid prolonged exposure to its toxicity
and radioactivity. He says he didn't get anything of the kind. Neither
did other reservists and National Guard soldiers called up for the
current war, according to veterans' groups.
Reed and the seven
brothers from his unit hate what has happened to them, and they speak
of it at public seminars and in politicians' offices. It is something
no VA doctor can explain; something that leaves them feeling like so
many spent shell rounds, kicked to the side of battle.
But for
every outspoken soldier like them, there are silent veterans like
Raphael Naboa, an Army artillery scout who served 11 months in the
northern Sunni Triangle, only to come home and fall apart.
Some days he feels fine. "Some days I can't get out of bed," he said from his home in Colorado.
Now
29, he's had growths removed from his brain. He has suffered a small
stroke -- one morning he was shaving, having put down the razor to
rinse his face. In that moment, he blacked out and pitched over.
"Just as quickly as I lost consciousness, I regained it," he said. "Except I couldn't move the right side of my body."
After about 15 minutes, the paralysis ebbed.
He
has mentioned depleted uranium to his VA doctors, who say he suffers
from a series of "non-related conditions." He knows he was exposed to
DU.
"A lot of guys went trophy-hunting, grabbing bayonets,
helmets, stuff that was in the vehicles that were destroyed by depleted
uranium. My guys were rooting around in it. I was trying to get them
out of the vehicles."
No one in the military talked to him
about depleted uranium, he said. His knowledge, like Reed's, is
self-taught from the Internet.
Unlike Reed, he has not gone to
war over it. He doesn't feel up to the fight. There is no known cure
for what ails him, and so no possible victory in battle.
He'd really just like to feel normal again. And he knows of others who feel the same.
"I
was an artillery scout, these are folks who are in pretty good shape.
Your Rangers, your Special Forces guys, they're in as good as shape as
a professional athlete.
"Then we come back and we're all sick."
They
feel like men who once were warriors and now are old before their time,
with no hope for relief from a multitude of miseries that has no name.
Copyright 2006 Associated Press
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