Iwo Jima Veterans Blast Time's 'Special Environmental Issue' Cover
For only the second time in 85 years, Time magazine abandoned the traditional red border it uses on its cover. The occasion – to push more global warming alarmism.
The cover of the April 21 issue of Time took the famous Iwo Jima photograph by Joe Rosenthal of the Marines raising the American flag and replaced the flag with a tree. The cover story by Bryan Walsh calls green “the new red, white and blue.”
Donald Mates, an Iwo Jima veteran, told the Business & Media Institute April 17 that using that photograph for that cause was a “disgrace.”
“It’s an absolute disgrace,” Mates said. “Whoever did it is going to hell. That’s a mortal sin. God forbid he runs into a Marine that was an Iwo Jima survivor.”
Mates also said making the comparison of World War II to global warming was erroneous and disrespectful.
“The second world war we knew was there,” Mates said. “There’s a big discussion. Some say there is global warming, some say there isn’t. And to stick a tree in place of a flag on the Iwo Jima picture is just sacrilegious.”
According to the American Veterans Center (AVC), Mates served in the 3rd Marine Division and fought in the battle of Iwo Jima, landing on Feb. 24, 1945.
“A few days later, Mates’ eight-man patrol came under heavy assault from Japanese forces,” Tim Holbert, a spokesman for the AVC, said. “During fierce-hand-to-hand combat, Mates watched as his friend and fellow Marine, Jimmy Trimble, was killed in front of his eyes. Mates was severely wounded, and underwent repeated operations for shrapnel removal for over 30 years.”
Time Tramples Iwo Jima Image to Push 'War on Global Warming'
First hand reporting ... what it was really like (from Time's archive):
On Iwo Jima
The 4th Marine Division hospital was built low into the bulldozed hillside to afford maximum protection from Jap mortar and artillery fire. It consisted of two long dark green tents plus two operating rooms about 10 by 20 ft. which the Japs had built as concrete rainwater cisterns. The air inside was stuffy with stale cigaret smoke mingled with the smells of dirt and blood and sweat. But the rawboned Division surgeon, Commander Richard Silvis, was very proud of his operating rooms.
Shortly after 8 o'clock on the evening of Dog Day-plus-15, Dr. Silvis and I crawled through the blacked-out entrance into one of these cistern operating rooms. Beneath the big non-shadow electric lamps lay a Marine captain who had been a Jap machine gunner's target about three hours earlier. Dr. John A. Harper held up the wounded man's slashed, liver-colored spleen: "We also took out a piece of kidney," he said, "and he has a bullet through his diaphragm and lung. He asked for a priest right away." Silvis pulled back the wounded man's eyelid and said: "He looks pretty good, though."
Some Would Die. We crossed to one of the long tents—the receiving ward where patients are brought first. At one end were eight operating tables where the wounded were examined immediately. The simpler operations were performed right there. The complex cases went to the cistern operating rooms.
Comment: The title says it all! Sacrilege