Chapter 7
FAMILY MATTERS
Highlights:
Midnight Blue Cadillac
Pony Riding Bomber Pilot
A Beautiful Girl Named Jingle
Diplomacy That Worked: The Quaker Couriers
Number 176 In The Death Lottery, Dr. Kissinger's "Startling Revelations" and Gardens of Stone
U. S. AID and Our Embassy (and My Family In It) Attacked In Pakistan
Big Big Girls And America Sleeping With The Devil In A Big Big World
The Rage Reason I Seek To Be President
I Learned That Thing About Your Life's Dream
The Joint Chiefs of Staff, Jim Lehrer and The Cowardly Lion
Some Great Stevenson Antecedents
Some color images in this chapter may take a few seconds to display completely. Please be patient.
My copy of Benjamin Franklin's Autobiography, finally starting to fall apart I've delved into it so much looking for wisdom. Some of my friends suggested to me it looks like the original . . .
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With Linda The Hon At A U. S . Coast Guard Christmas Dinner
********* *NOTICE TO USMC* ********
YOU MAY WONDER WHAT I WANT, WHAT I EXPECT TO BE DONE ABOUT THIS DATED LITTLE TRAVESTY THING. WELL 1st OF ALL, DO NOT SEND ANY MORE BONEHEAD TYPES - AH, WHITE SHORT SLEEVED SHIRT, DARK SLACKS, TIE 1 INCH DARK HAIRCUT, CAVED IN FLATTISH OLIVE COMPLEXIONED FACE, GOOD MARINE CORPS BEARING, DISRESPECTFUL. BLACK CAR WITH A WING BLOCKED TRAFFIC - YES, YES REMEMBER THE BIG WHITE TRUCK TRYING TO GET BY YOU. JUST EVEN FIGURE OUT WHAT YOUR CONTORTIONS WERE, DRIVING IN A BIG CIRCLE IN THE INTERSECTION, YES, YOU ALONE CAUSED MORE CHANCE OF A TRAFFIC WRECK ON OUR STREET THAN I HAVE SEEN IN A LONG TIME, EYEING YOU LIKE A STUDENT DRIVER TURNING, BACKING, TURNING AROUND IN A SIDE STREET TO MAKE ANOTHER PASS AT MY PERSONAL RESIDENCE, DO YOU REMEMBER SOMEONE SHOUTING WE HATE YOU, GET OUT OF OUR NEIGHBORHOOD YOU ARE NOT WHAT YOU SAID YOU ARE, SPITTING INSIDE HIS OWN PROPERTY AT YOU AS YOU DROVE PAST IN BOTH PASSES, BOTH DIRECTIONS, YES, YOU TO MY PERSONAL RESIDENCE TO RING THE DOORBELL WHEN I DO NOT HAVE MY WALKING BRACE ON TO BE ABLE TO GET TO THE DOOR THEN LEAVE THE HOUSE, THEN STAND ACROSS THE STREET AND SAY YES HE RANG OUR DOORBELL BUT WOULD NOT COME TALK ABOUT IT AFTER CHASING ME OUT THERE. HE BEHAVED UNPROFESSIONALLY IN OTHER WAYS. WORSE THAN THE ISLAMIC COWARDS WHO THREW LEON KLINGHOFFER OVERBOARD, DEAD, IN HIS WHEELCHAIR. YES OF COURSE I MADE HIS TWIN AT THE GAS STATION TOO. YES, AND MY OLD FRIEND AS HE CAME THROUGH THE RESTAURANT AND AVERTED HIS HEAD DOWNWARDS AT THE LAST MOMENT BUT AS I WAS SEATED AND HE HAD TO WALK DIRECTLY N FRONT OF ME I SAW HIM VERY CLEARLY. NOW, LISTEN. YOU GUYS CAN BE AS MUCH A SNAFU AS YOU WANT FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIVES. I NO LONGER CARE ABOUT STUPID GOVERNMENT FEDHEADS. SCREW UP YOURSELVES, YOUR LIVES FOR ALL YOU ARE WORTH. GO AHEAD. I AM PLACING ON THE VOICE MAIL ANSWERING SYSTEM OF MY PERSONAL TELEPHONE NUMBER WHAT IT IS I WANT DONE ABOUT THIS FOR YOU TO CALL AND LISTEN TO. THE PHONE WILL BE OFF DURING THE NIGHT HOURS PACIFIC COAST TIME. IF YOU CALL THEN NO ONE WILL HEAR THE PHONE RING AND YOU CAN LISTEN TO THE MESSAGE. I WILL REMOVE THIS MESSAGE TO YOU SOON.
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CHAPTER 7
FAMILY MATTERS
When all the kids left home for college or got married the house in Chevy Chase was a bit too much for Mom to handle.
I helped some, but, just starting 7th grade, those meaty slaps on the back from my sisters’ fiancées and their grand allusions to me being “the man of the house” was not quite enough to get those old 3 foot by 6 foot - bigger than me - double paned (but not double layered, this was way before energy shortage consciousness days) framed up things called “Storm Windows” that had to be pulled down from the attic and hung out all over the colonial style house’s windows and the thousand other things that had to be done to “keep the house up” - well - it was all just too much for just the two of us.
Mom sold the house and we moved to Texas.
My mother’s Texan (formerly Iowan) brother my Uncle Jake, or J.C. as he was known, seemed to us of an order of high wide and handsome rich.
His house in the Dallas area was a mansion looking something like the Los Angeles Playboy mansion looks on TV. It had a marvelous, real, long semi-circled driveway. There were two pools, and a Guest House where one of my teenage boy cousins lived.
He sent a letter to J. Paul Getty, a fabulously wealthy Texas oilman, inviting him to his high school graduation. J. Paul Getty wrote to him saying he was sorry he could not make it but was enclosing a gift, as I recall it was a book he’d written about how to become successful in the Texas oil business.
Tim was surprised and I think made thoughtful by the kind sincerity that emanated from the letter. A few days later a delivery truck pulled up with several deliveries for him. Altogether, over the next few weeks, J. Paul Getty sent him I think a total of more than twenty gifts.
Uncle J.C. had been a bomber pilot in World War II. His story, so American I still laugh when I think of it, was like this. There are some twists and turns so you just have to follow along a bit.
Jake was I think named for my mother’s father’s father Jacob Loehr, who family records tell me was the first settler to come to Lone Tree, Iowa.
There he found a single person called in the old family history an Indian who today would be called more geographically correctly a Native American sitting under the sole tree that guided many across the prairie. He asked my maternal great-grandfather, my mom's paternal grandfather, what a Norwegian would call I think my tip-moroldefar, asked him for a drink of water which the original Jacob Loehr, who became the first permanent settler right there in Lone Tree, Iowa gave him.
Jake, my uncle, went in as a young man to sign up to be a fighter pilot. Said that was what he really wanted to do.
Jake passed all the tests. Eyesight had to be very good, you know, all that. When it came down to it, however, that is what used to be called brass tacks, some orderly shouted out his name and when Jake answered “Yes, Sir” the orderly shouted at him to get out of there he could never be a fighter pilot.
I know some of you guess what is coming next.
Jake was furious.
Drawing himself up to his full 6’4” he marched over to the orderly and asked “Why not?”
The orderly looked up at him and said, “You’re too tall.”
Ooooh. That fried J.C. So what happened was he became a bomber pilot instead. I asked him all about it.
I love American war heroes.
So I said “Oh, you could be a bomber pilot if you were 6 4 ?” Well, J.C. fudged a bit. Well, actually, no, no you couldn’t. So, how had he gotten to be a bomber pilot? Here was the real story.
That is, as best I am able to recollect it lo these forty years later now in 2006 when I am age 54.
J.C. snuck over to the bomber pilot signup base without telling them about being refused as a fighter pilot. He took all the tests and did well on them. When it came to having his height measured he was just under 6 feet.
He got into Bomber Command as a Pilot Trainee.
Some weeks later someone noticed his extraordinary height. He was called in to stand before the Commanding Officer. The C.O. wanted to know how it was J.C.’s measurement for height was just under 6 feet tall. Just short enough to be a bomber pilot.
“Well” Jake puffed “you see, I’m a cowboy. Riding a pony all that time a fella may get a little bowlegged.”
The C.O. responded “6 inches worth? Well, why are you so tall now?”
To give him due credit, Jake came out with the imaginative explanation as to how "all that range riding must’ve worn off" and now he was . . .
“6 4” shouted his C.O. “6 4, 6 4, 6 4.“
Now it was the C.O.’s turn to be furious.
But, well, all the paperwork was done and sent off to Washington already, training was halfway completed and oh what the hell! So they let Uncle J.C. become a Bomber Pilot.
I asked him “What’d you bomb Uncle Jake . . . Berlin? Nazis? Iwo Jima? Tokyo?” Well Jake hemmed and hawed. What he did during the war, see, was he ferried bombers from Missouri, where they were delivered to the Army Air Corps by the manufacturer, to Lakeland, Texas to the base where they trained bomber pilots. Delivering each one to his old C.O.
I think he came out of World War II a Major.
Uncle Jake was great like that. In those days, he would have been called, a bit warily but nonetheless admiringly, an operator.
Jake had great personal style. Handsome as could be. An elegantly suited businessman. Razor-cut haircut. He had taps, steel taps put in the toes and heels of his dress business shoes so that when he walked anywhere there was a click and a snap that projected authority and know-how.
Every other year he disappeared for 4 or 5 days without telling anyone. When he drove back in the great driveway it was in a brand new Cadillac Fleetwood in the days when they were spectacular and nearly a quarter mile long. Man. He was so cool.
Sort of like J.R. on Dallas but a good guy not a bad guy. When he drove in in 1966 the Caddy was the color I heard of first then, Midnight Blue. Uncle Jake.
He was so cool. J.C.
Tommy, or T.C. as he was called, my other great Uncle, was not of the family. That is, he was not the brother of my mother or father. He married my mom’s sister, Doris. Since he was married to my Aunt Doris – always a bit of the battleaxe in that name for me – he became my uncle, Uncle Tommy.
I don’t know why, exactly, but it was always Tommy, never Tom or Thomas, although he was a world class professional U.S. State Department Diplomat.
He did often go by his first two initials, like my Uncle J.C. did. Uncle Tommy’s middle initial was C too, so he became T.C. “Your Uncle T.C.” Mom would say, “is coming home for a few weeks home leave from Karachi.” or some such thing.
Uncle Tommy was sort of the style, rather that is looked like, that Secretary of State of Jimmy Carter’s named Cyrus Vance at the start of the World War III we are still fighting today who resigned over a point of principle long since forgotten.
But Tommy was unforgettable, really a great Uncle.
When they were home living on Military Road above Connecticut Avenue about a mile inside the D.C. Line at Western Avenue where Geico and Lord & Taylors had their big centers, he would take us all down to Fort McNair - famous from the photo of the four people they hung there for being part of the plot to assassinate Lincoln - and we would spend wonderful summer heat days in the swimming pool with my cousins.
I was too young to have any real interest in the girls. One of my cousins was born on Christmas Eve and they named her Jingle!
Just my age, skinny, glasses, 2 long braids down her back like Judy Garland in The Wizard of Oz.
We swam, played, talked and laughed together, clean, free, healthy middle class-upper middle class polite, full of life and happiness.
I only saw her once, I think, in college age years, just for a few moments as our paths crossed for some family reason.
Oooohhh. 5’ 9”, sleek and with curves that were just there without bulging any, most of her height eaten up in the off white jeans she wore called wheat jeans in those days. Jingle had long lovely hair like Claudine Longet in her time. Her eyes were so crystalline, clear, womanly and profound, Swarthmore private Quaker college smart and looking at me in a bemused way as one she once knew as a little boy. You know, when we were, uh, equal. Well . . . melting . . . I think by then I was foolishly protesting that this couldn’t be Jingle.
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Uncle Tommy had real brains.
He was a great organizer, with the gift of administration, and he was a man of action.
He was our U. S . A.I.D. man in Pakistan at the U. S . Embassy in Karachi before it had ever been assaulted by Islamic street mobs (although my family was there then too but in a capacity I will not reveal). Yes, remember. They attacked us once there before. What was it, 1980? Long enough ago but still part of this World War III thing we’re in.
Triggered The Inman Commission Report perhaps. You can read about Admiral Bobby Ray Inman a bit in Chapter 12 The Black Buddha.
At that time, meaning when Tommy was there as our US AID man, the early 1970s, when I was going on 20 years old, we gave Pakistan a lot of agricultural aid.
It is a worthy concept, which we followed at times, that if you give people a fish you feed them for a day, but if you teach them to fish you feed them for a lifetime. In that spirit, I suppose, as well as in the spirit, coincidentally, of providing some U.S. Congressional District enough factory jobs that the local Congressman might get reelected, we sent Pakistan shiploads full of John Deere tractors.
Tommy told us the story of how he went to the port to meet the ship and count off the tractors as they rolled ashore. As a stevedore drove each tractor along the dock my Uncle Tommy would slap a small sticker from his clipboard onto it that said Gift of the American People. He followed the last tractor around the corner of a warehouse and noticed a man in a business suit reach out and affectionately pat the tractor just where Tommy had put the sticker.
The man looked familiar somehow. Wore a business suit as Tommy did, but not a Brooks Brothers like Uncle T.C. bought at Raleigh Haberdashers on the D.C. Line.
Tommy stopped and spoke to the man who said in a heavy foreign accent he had noticed appreciatively Tommy putting the small U.S. stickers on the tractors.
The friendly man showed Tommy his clipboard which was half full of somewhat larger stickers than Tommy’s, the type he had just finished placing on each tractor on top of and burying America’s. His stickers said Gift of the Soviet Russian People.
Years later I had a chance meeting with an official of Pakistan. I mentioned this story about Uncle Tommy to him. He first verified the time frame Tommy had been in Karachi. He had a good horselaugh. Then he allowed as to how, yes, America had helped Pakistan with a great deal of agricultural aid in those days.
But not much lately.
He indicated America was not pleased with Pakistan in the 1990s because Pakistan refused to promise America not to use nuclear bombs as a first strike weapon
Yes, even against America.
I learned something from this.
Tommy was great. They were Quakers, that is Members of The Society of Friends. This is an important, influential, powerful group in the history of America even from the times of the Pennsylvania Commonwealth and events leading up to the American Revolution.
As pacifists, they opposed the War for Independence in some ways, yet by certain significant exceptions to their own inclinations towards pacifism, which is against all violence and all war, did ultimately accommodate to its great purpose.
They nearly drove Benjamin Franklin, who I think mentions this in his autobiography, and others such as John Adams who may have a mention about this in the interesting book about him by the fine historian David McCullough, trying to run the war to their wits’ ends.
Their denomination differs from almost all others in certain interesting ways of carrying on their worship activities yet, as I understand, is plain correct sound Christian in doctrine.
As I understand - and I should insert a Courtesy Note here to all Quakers reading this that if I mention anything not just right please forgive me and correct me if you will - they are regular Christians in their theology and generally quite well-educated and well-respected.
Indeed, as with most “Organized Churches”, what some (horse-) laughingly call “Churchianity” some of the stuffier, more self-righteous or judgmental among them - although there seem to be less, and less showy ones, than in some other large churches which have even done what Christ Himself told them not to do and have institutionalized their judgmentalism - may think others are not as good as they are.
You will remember there was a hot breakfast cereal sold in supermarkets called Quaker Oats with a fatherly sort of figure wearing a black broad brimmed hat from Early American Days on the cover of the round box, perhaps the only round box you will ever see.
The oatmeal was said in advertising campaigns to be “Shot From Cannons” which I once witnessed aboard The Good Ship Swift in the Los Angeles Maritime Museum’s program for At Risk Youth, founded and run by a former super teacher now Captain Jim Gladson. Call him if you wish to donate to their program for kids.
You may recall in the television advertisements for Quaker Oats, the figure in the broad brimmed hat says “Nothing Is Better For Thee Than Me.” Which do you think Jesus Christ would find more prideful, boasting, causing of division in the body of Christ and insulting to Him, that saying or such ones as calling one’s denomination The One True Church?
Instead of “going to church service” or “going to Mass” on Sundays, however, they generally only refer to their church services as “Meeting” and Meeting can be on Saturday afternoon or evening sometimes I think. There is generally no Church Service or Mass per se , so you can see it has its redeeming features, and there is generally no Pastor or Priest.
The Members just sit silently in the pews of the church looking forward. Then when one has something worthwhile to say, perhaps something about their historic strongly held tenet of pacifism, or a scripture to exegete, one just stands up at one’s own place and speaks briefly.
On occasion, if one member is going to speak a while on a significant issue or take a vote of the Members about something then that Member may go up front and stand facing the congregation to attend to the matter most conveniently.
The pacifism of The Quakers – one might say their underlying philosophy - is an enduring quality. It is of great value to the whole world.
Consider this: during World War II, the governments of the Allies on our side and the Nazis in Europe did not trust one another enough to allow even messengers to cross over into one another’s territory. A group of Quakers emerged who carried messages back and forth between the two sides. They were just called The Quaker Couriers.
Both sides knew that The Quakers were Pacifists, that is against all war and therefore not actually on anybody’s side per se, somewhat like The Ents in J.R.R. Tolkien’s great book trilogy The Lord of the Rings from which Peter Jackson made his fine film trilogy, so both sides trusted The Quaker Couriers. They alone, The Quaker Couriers, were allowed to pass freely back and forth into and out of Nazi Occupied European countries, including Germany.
Some of the messages they carried were personal, POW’s messages home to loved ones or humanitarian ones offering medical supplies.
The Quaker Couriers carried “Peace Feelers” from the government of one side to the government of a hostile power.
The Quakers thus have a deep understanding of international diplomacy.
So the Quakers have made great, quietly heroic contributions to our country and our world and deserve great respect.
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I take this opportunity to expressly honor them for the good they have done and continue to do in our world. In the event I should become President I will at times seek their help through their Capitol Hill office, or its successor if there is one, where another of my Uncles, Raymond Wilson, served for so many years.
Uncle Ray was an interesting, great man. He raised hybrid Orchids. Uncle Ray wrote a fine little shirt pocket sized book titled something like If Flowers Acted Like People.
If Flowers Acted Like People is a kind of clever pacifist picture poem of things like roses at war with daisies and rhododendrons claiming extra land space in which to grow from the lilies who did not want to share their space with anyone other than other lilies and so on.
Uncle Ray was married to my mother’s sister Grace, and did marvelous work in the service of and for the betterment of America through The Society of Friends in Washington, D.C. for many years. I may write a more complete tribute to him at another time.
As a Quaker, Uncle Tommy went into the Army in World War II, but in the training when they were taught to bayonet a human being Tommy became so revulsed he puked and, well, just couldn’t do it.
The U. S. Armed Forces, that is, what is called The Military has a very fine policy, practice and procedure in such cases. For this the U. S. Military deserves great credit.
I take this moment to expressly state this because it is one of the very, very many things The U. S. Military does which are of great and wonderful service to America, yes, but also so very many times to the entire world. I take the time to state this in express terms particularly because, as in this instance of the Conscientious Objector status policies, The Military is not given credit where it is due so often that it is profoundly unfair.
[Author’s note: as I was editing this section, correcting a misspelled word and so on, some things came together in my mind as fresh material not originally in this chapter about my Uncles. I include these reflections here and now in the next few pages because these observations on The Military have triggered these new writings.
This new material, perhaps a bit out of context, inserted in the next few pages, explains some background of things I learned, know and understand about The Military which in the event I become Commander In Chief will be among those things I ponder in my heart. ]
These learnings will be part of my make-up as President as I work with the good Officers , Non-Commissioned Officers and Enlisted Personnel, and their families, of our Military. All Americans, military and civilian, who may consider many things about the person they choose as their President and Commander In Chief, deserve to know this about me.
When a travesty of some type occurs in war, and sometimes in peace, as in the case where I decided based on information I learned from a friend who was a USMC Drill Instructor the afternoon before I was to go to not go through with a voluntary entrance into the U. S. Marine Corps Officer Candidate School Platoon Leader Class program for which I had been tested and accepted – a little peacetime travesty about five such Candidates “run for hours under the Red Flag”.
The Red Flag indicating High Heat meant no running of recruits allowed. It was flown over the boot camp because within two hours of running in such high heat temperatures they could die suddenly from kidney disease as those five young Candidates did.
My friend the D. I. blurted it all out over the barbeque “Funniest thing I ever saw in my whole life. Within 24 hours those clowns from the CIA had me, my wife and kid and every stick of furniture we owned on a C-24 Galaxy and halfway around the world from El Toro to Clark Field Subic Bay.”
Yeah. Yeah, I red white and blue serve my country patriotic had been willing to “go into the Marines” and “go to Vietnam to fight” as a Second Lieutenant, the lowest of all Commissioned Officer ranks, U. S. Marines Platoon Leader then in 1972 at the height of the casualty death rate of the Vietnam War for which the year or two before I had not been drafted.
I had been willing to go and had gone through the preliminary signup procedures, tests (the Marine at the U.S. Armed Forces Recruiting Office said “you just got the highest score any applicant for the Marine Corps ever got”) and the Marine Corps had established a certain code-designated file relating to me.
My fellow Americans, this brings me to a point I want all Americans to understand and act upon in their own individual lives. Information is risky. Whatever that coded file designation meant I did not then and still today do not know with exactitude.
I do know this: we as a nation, both as individuals and as the Government, have been dangerously careless about files and documents and other forms and styles of information. This carelessness and lack of caution in speaking of such things has damaged our country and exposed you and your children, friends and families, to harm, even to death.
Consider, for example, the Department of Energy, a harmless enough sounding government department, right?
During the last decades of the twentieth century enough information from the files of that department had passed into the hands of The People’s Republic of China to advance the ability of China to construct nuclear weapons capable of striking anywhere in the world, including America which China presently designates as its main enemy, by twenty years.
We have seen the poor character of people in the Government such as the National Security Advisor in President Clinton’s Administration, named Sandy Berger, who is reported on television news programs as having secreted documents from the National Archives inside his socks or underwear
This official, referred to by Rush Limbaugh, the radio talk show host with the largest listening audience in America, freely as Sandy Burglar. He violated the security procedures and laws by removing the documents from the security controls of the National Archives simply by walking out of that building with those documents secreted in what my first wife would call his ropa interior.
You have read in some of my family history writings that I mention some Norwegian words. This is because I have had a long, close friendship with Norway. There is a historical lesson to be learned from Norway. Norway had a high government official, in their national security related government department that betrayed Norway to the Nazis. His last name was Quisling. A traitor. In most dictionaries of the English language, you will now find his name as an English word, meaning just that, traitor.
You see, it is not the security controls that are bad, it is the character of the people in the position to know about such information that has become untrustworthy.
Bad character, no integrity.
When you vote such people into office, or accept their being appointed into office, or when the Government Reform Oversight Committee in the House of Representatives now chaired by a good man, Congressman Chris Shays of Connecticut, fails to hold any - even one – oversight hearing in more than a decade of years then that helps our enemies, foreign and domestic, to hurt America.
I ask you, every single individual American, to pay attention to that and stop it from happening anymore.
So my fellow Americans, starting now, I want you to be extremely careful about talking about anything you learn about which has any potential for adversely affecting America’s safety and security.
As you know - but the stupid ones in control of the Government the past decades who the singer Gordon Lightfoot wrote in a song are “ . . . the wise and wicked ones who feed upon life’s sacred fire . . .“ have failed to place in the public recognizance and vocabulary - we have been in World War III ever since Iran under the Ayatollah Khomeini seized our U. S. Embassy and Diplomats in Tehran and held them for 444 days.
This event started, as Harvard Professor Samuel Huntington’s book A Clash of Civilizations analyzes the situation, a clash of perhaps irreconcilably worlds-apart civilizations, which marked the start of World War III.
As Professor Huntington’s book expressly states, the most important, dominant, determinative factor for all of the nations in this World III is religion.
This World War III we are now in, so often called The War On Terror, which perhaps trivializes the conflict bearing down on us, is in truth World War III.
It is time, after twenty or thirty years of dithering diplomacy, appeasement in the form of just ignoring the problem and hoping it will go away, and half measures, or less-than-half measures, to call it what it is: World War III.
You see, the first step in solving any problem is the simple, clear recognition the problem in fact exists. It cannot be papered-over.
A serious problem must be recognized for what it is and faced squarely.
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That was the problem with Hitler and Tojo in the era of the last World War, we failed to recognize clearly that they were the problem . So we dithered for ten or twenty years at great cost of life and treasure. That is World War II which holds the valuable lessons for us to learn from which we can learn and know how we can win this World War III.
How long will it take to win this World War III?
It will be a longer time if as General George Patton might have put it we pussyfoot around.
First, recognize that this World War III did not start on 9-11.
No more than World War II started with Pearl Harbor.
Remember, by the time Pearl Harbor took place, the Nazis in Europe during a period of about ten years – more if you count their takeover of Germany itself first - had conquered not only nearly all of Europe and Central Europe but also a part of Africa as large as the 48 continental United States and was killing ordinary civilians as well as soldiers by the hundreds of thousands in such huge land areas as the Ukraine and Stalin’s Communist Russia.
Remember, by the time Pearl harbor took place, Japan had during a period of more than ten years physically invaded and occupied the mainland of China committing murder by its army on such a scale and scope that their treatment of entire fine, ancient world-capital-class Chinese cities was commonly called rape.
Japan went on rampaging through many other Asian and Pacific nations, conquering their governments and peoples, killing ordinary civilians as well as soldiers by the millions, throwing the Brits out of such places as “Fortress Singapore” and then throwing the Americans, including that American Caesar General Douglas MacArthur (who had made himself some showy tropical white uniforms and in his lordly way had gotten pretty comfortable in the place) out of The Philipines.
Remember, too, America was not the one who Declared War on Japan and Germany and Italy.
No.
Remember. Don’t forget.
Japan attacked us first, by surprise, and Declared War on America, then Hitler Declared War on America in consequence of his treaty with Japan and then Italy Declared War on America in consequence of their Axis treaty with Hitler.
They all three, dictators, Declared War on America, first.
Almost too late, a mistake we cannot afford to make anymore, we defended ourselves.
So, no, this World War III should not be considered at all as having started just with 9-11.
Before 9-11 there was:
• the assault on the U. S. Embassy in Iran
• the assault on the U. S. Embassy in Pakistan (at a time in fact when my family was present there but in a capacity designed to protect America I will not disclose, although I will just say it was not with the you know who spy agency people)
• the shooting down of an airliner or two or three in places with previously unknown names
• more U. S. Embassies attacked (some blown up) in Africa of all places which confirms it is a worldwide conflict
• U. S. Navy ships with huge holes blown in them which almost sank.
Have I left anything out guys?
Any other first parts of this World War III waged against us by another enemy powered on by Satan?
(You should understand how to recognize when the enemy is one powered on by Satan. It's easy. You don't even have to be a religious believer.)
For instance, Mikhail Gorbachev, when he came over to the U. S . after the collapse of the USSR, told our side that yes of course the USSR believed Satan was real and in fact their KGB had been doing experiments trying to contact and communicate with Satan to try to get him to attack America.
So this is not some wild-eyed religious stuff. It is simply real.
The quick and simple way you can tell is
1) they hate the Jews and want to destroy them, and
2) they behead people and also do other weird cruel things, like experiments and electroshock, to the bodies of human beings.
The reason for this is since God made human bengs and chose The Jews for some special purposes, Satan hates them. So he wants to do horrible things to people and generally also wants to destroy completely the Jews.
See, it isn't hard.
Now, I am not an expert in the religion, for example of Islam. But I have read a translation of a part of Islam's holy writings.
In one place it says words something like "I see heads before me ripe for plucking, with blood glistening between the beard and the neck".
This is in express words a giant demonic spirit being speaking of taking great delight in beheading human beings.
That is how easy it is to recognize when the enemy is one that is powered on by Satan.
So now I've told you plainly.
Oh, right. All that stuff with a hook into the Jews and Israel. Oh, yes.
Something called The Achille Lauro I think it was, yes, a ship. Onboard The Achille Lauro was . . . you know . . . A Jew! Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes . . . we couldn’t let that go could we? Not just any Jew either. No, no this Jew was a special prize. A real chance for those waging World War III against us to show their bravery. Their great skill as Warriors. Holy Warriors. Yes that’s it. Their wonderful Arab and Islamic character. You can’t forget the Islamic part. You see, for two reasons.
First, Professor Huntington’s book The Clash of Civilizations, which is one of the essential guides for U. S. Foreign Policy, expressly teaches us that the most important motivating factor in this World War III is . . . c’mon now, you know it you . . . right . . . religion.
And what’s the second reason we know not to forget the Islamic part?
C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, you know it. Like the Spelling Bee word, you can get it. Like Akiba and The Bee!
Yes, yes, that’s right, that’s it, and you got it!
BECAUSE THEY SAY SO.
The enemy itself, starting and waging this World War III against us all, all of the rest of us trying to make our daily bread in this confusing-enough world, the enemy SAYS they are doing it for Islam reasons.
That is why it was important to take a crippled old guy - in a wheelchair no less - shoot him in the head and throw him off The Achille Lauro deck into the sea.
Wow.
What religion.
They must all be so proud of themselves.
Don’t you think everybody should be so religious?
So Islamic.
Like an old rock’n’roll song says what a wonderful world it would be!
Hollywood, by the way, would like to rear its ugly head at this point and whisper Don’t forget Munich.
You know Munich.
Munich, the Olympic athletes, uh, you know, Jews yes, Jewish athletes (as the saying goes, who knew?) killed, uh, murdered, uh, during the sports by, uh, you know, Arabs, Palestinians, uh, whatever, Islamics.
And the film, don’t forget the film, yes, there’s a movie out just now, it’s called, you know, uh, Munich.
So, it has been World War III for a long time already. It is World War III now, right now. It is not peacetime. No more than in the long run-up of years to Pearl Harbor.
Oh, back to My Story.
I DID NOT after all go in to the Marine Corps Officer Candidate School the next morning.
I never entered The Military. Download and read the rest of this chapter in 1970 Continued.
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My Father, an Assistant Corporation Counsel for The City of Chicago. and brother, a teacher and law student, shaking hands with me as I am awarded a Youth of the Year Award by the B'nai B'rith Youth Organization at their Starlight Ball in 1970.
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This web site has been paid for by the Principal Committee To Elect John W. Stevenson President of The United States of America in the 2008 Election.
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I was Inducted Into this National Honor Fraternity for high achievement when I was in a Law Enforcement Assistance Program Curriculum. The Professor in charge of the National Honor Fraternity program was one of my teachers. During World War II she had been a BAM - a Broad Assed Marine Officer - a Major who was once the Commanding Officer of a Troop Train that went all the way across America with a couple thousand U. S. Marines on board. She taught me the importance of the military principle of Non-Fraternization between Officers and Enlisted Personnel this way: she said "You may have to spend their lives in combat. You respect them as military professionals, for their skills, their fine character or strengths, but you must never choose between enlisted personnel for assignment to a life and death mission based on reasons of personal favoritism or friendship." I also learned from her that it is a Standing Order for U. S. military personnel that enlisted personnel are not to obey illegal orders. These things are part of my background training to be President. This is one of the things our present President George W. Bush got right when he became Commander In Chief. In one television news clip, as he walked into some situation he shouted out something like "There is to be no fraternization." Good job , Sir.
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