I continued to stare at the man, wanting to ask how he’d come to be in my room through a locked door. As I prepared to recover myself from the shock and get back into the real world again, the bathroom door opened, and a rough looking man stepped out.
“Oh, sorry, had to go,” the man said, and then went to stand next to McCain.
I didn’t sigh or shake my head, although I thought of doing both. The CIA was treating me as if I was a body undergoing autopsy. The body has no identity left in its being, its only value is to demonstrate its presence and be available for whatever parts may be needed elsewhere. McCain smiled at the man’s entry as if breaking into hotel rooms and using the bathrooms was some form of acceptable etiquette.
“This is Richard Marcinko, former Seal Team Six leader of the Navy Seals and a Nam vet like we are. Now he writes very popular novels about his experiences. He’s the reason we’re here.”
I stood in place, wondering about the question the captain had asked as I entered the room. He hadn’t implied that he was either approving of some plan to go get POWs from North Vietnam.
I played back this question, examining each word for potential intent or commitment, “They tell me that you’re willing to go back and save some prisoners still being held in the North.”
It wasn’t a question so I was not wrong or impolite to not answer it. There was implied consent, however, and the wonder I was left with about whom ‘they’ might be. I waited, checking out Macinko. He looked a lot more like the real deal coming from a war than I did. His short growth of facial hair, mustache, and jet black hair pulled into a ponytail gave his rough exterior an aggressive macho presentation that I could never equal. He was a Seal Team Member and that meant, I knew, that the former Navy ‘frogmen’ of WWII didn’t do much combat, and what good would a bunch of physically and wildly trained tall white and black men in great shape do if landed in some foreign country? Having studied anthropology I knew full well that without indigenous assets working in a foreign country that was not at full-on war required locals to front the work.
“Hello,” I said to the supposed superman. He nodded, but no hands were shaken, making me have to hold back a smile. He was probably too tough to have such innocent and peace-making contact.
The bed was right to the side of us but nobody made any move to sit down.
“One of your old friends in the White House recommended you, based on your war record and then the things you’ve done since,” McCain said. “Tell him your plan, Richard.”
I moved to sit on the bed and looked up at both men. I knew whatever was coming was going to be good. I thought about reading the book First Blood by David Morrell, a man who’d never gone to war, much less down into the jungles of Vietnam.
“Rambo…give me a break,” I breathed out, but not loud enough for either man before me to hear.
The last thing I wanted to hear was that kind of “Oh gee, they cut his hair so he killed a bunch of cops in their own known forest and backyard and then was forgiven because the nation needs such trained killers so badly,” crap.
“That war is supposed to be over,” Marcinko began, looking a bit Italian with his slick hair and rather expressive hand movements. “But there are still almost two thousand American soldiers, Marines, and flyboys still left over there. The North and South melded but they didn’t let a whole bunch of guys come home for reasons we won’t go into. I, and the guy who recommended you, know where those prisoners are being held and we want you to lead the team to go get them, and what do you say to that?” He ended his fervent speech by throwing both of his hands into the air.
I instinctively wanted to clap but held myself back. It was a great speech and well delivered but was based upon pure nonsense.
I looked over at McCain, who was frowning. I waited and finally, he spoke one line.
“What do you suppose these prisoners might report?” he asked.
“What are you talking about.? You’re the key to our getting the funding for the mission, and this man is the man to lead it.
I watched the exchange, but McCain’s words bothered me. What would the prisoners report? stuck in my mind, and not in a good place. What could returning prisoners possibly report on that might be at the very top of the captain’s mind?
“Are you in?” Marcinko asked, pointing his right index finger directly at me.
“I have to talk to my wife, as she put me back together the last time I went to that place.”
“Right, you have to talk to your wife,” Marcinko smirked, turning to McCain.
“This is what you brought me?” he asked.
I stood up from the bed and moved toward the nightstand.
“I have a question at this point,” I said, putting one hand on the top of the bureau.
“Right,” Marcinko said.
“You came into my room uninvited, and you somehow got inside without any trouble without a key. And now you insult me inside my room, and that’s after likely knowing what my background really is.”
“The question?” McCain asked, almost with a sigh, like he was sorry he ever hooked up with whatever this mission was supposed to be.
I also realized that neither man was CIA and that the mission wasn’t a CIA-sanctioned one.
I pulled open the drawer slowly.
“How do you expect to get out of this room alive or in one piece?” I asked very softly, Junior having risen from the grave I generally kept him deeply buried in. I casually slipped my hand inside the drawer and left it there, relief pouring through my body and a steady even, and flat state running through my mind. I turned all of my attention to the two men before me, not blinking and no longer breathing.
“He has a gun in that drawer?” Marcinko asked of McCain.
“I don’t know, we didn’t search the room.” He looked back at me.
“I don’t believe it,” Maricinko said, but I could hear a small tremor in his voice.
“I eased the .45 out and gently let my hand fall to my right upper thigh, easing away from the bed.
“It’s probably a dummy of some sort,” Marcinko intoned, his voice filled with doubt
In the silence that followed, I snapped the safety off. The click sounded like the breaking of a dried wooden stick.
“Can we leave?” McCain suddenly asked, his eyes again giving me the thousand-yard stare. I got the feeling that he didn’t care if he lived or died but might have responsibilities. I knew the feeling well and then thought of my responsibilities and my family.
“Affirmative captain,” I said, but still making no moves whatsoever.
“We’re leaving just like that, because of this?” Marcinko asked, as John McCain took him by the arm and started moving him toward the door.
“We’re not leaving,” McCain replied, getting Marcinko to the door and opening it. “I’m saving your life.”
The door closed and I could hear no more. I collapsed on the bed, putting the Colt back on safe and thinking about how the airport in Albuquerque didn’t have detectors but they did at the one in Washington. One of my Marine semi-friends from Camp Pendleton, lived on G Street so I could store the Colt with him and have the necessary equipment for my returns to D.C. It had served me well in getting rid of Marcinko and McCain. I’d come to the city to set up or surpervise the new office and I had to spend a few hours getting the medical policy converted to a more dedicated document with no telltales left behind. I wondered if that was stealing from the insurance company but if it was then it was the venial sin of my association with the Agency so far. Mortal sins seemed to be more my kind of thing.
I put the Colt back in the drawer, trying to get my mind right. Would I have shot Marcinko if he had not been backed down? I knew I would have and I shuddered at the thought. My life would be over and my family’s with it. I could have weapons around, had to have them around, but I was still going to have to work harder to prevent Junior from being called back into service. Paul was history, however, and I wasn’t likely to find another counselor like him.
There was a knock at the door. I jumped up and answered it. The door opened and a beautiful woman in hotel uniform stood before me.
“Here’s the envelope,” she said very sweetly. “You have a lot of paperwork to do tonight?”
It seemed an odd question, but I let it go.
“Yes, I’ve got to cut and paste this whole document together to get it to a business meeting in the morning,” I replied, telling her the truth.
“I could help you because I’m really good at that sort of stuff and you may need some tools if you don’t have them.”
“Tools?” I asked, kind of dumbfounded.
“Cut and paste, like in scissors and tape and glue or quite possibly staples?” she replied.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Anita Mason,” she replied.
“Wait,” I told her and walked over to the hotel phone I pushed the button for the front desk. When it answered I asked if a woman named Anita Mason worked for the hotel and that she looked like a movie star.
“Yes, you can let her in the door,” the man said.
“Why would you help me, and don’t you work for the hotel?”
“They might not approve, that’s true,” she said with an enigmatic smile, “but my shift’s up in fifteen minutes and I could use some extra cash.”
I could read the truth in her eyes. She was right, I needed her experience and the help, and yes, the tools.
“Two hours for two hundred dollars cash,” I finally said.
“I’ll be back in fifteen minutes,” she replied.
I closed the door and opened the sealed envelope the file was in I started reading the policy like I had never done in selling it. Anita was right, I’d never get it done and then get any sleep by the morning if I worked alone, but was I guying into another fake player or worse by hiring her? It might be a mistake, I thought, but not as big a mistake as shooting Marcinko would have been. My mind still toyed with the idea the man was a phony. Why else would he face into the wind as he did? A combat veteran never walks into fire unarmed, and even if armed, seeks to avoid the combat if at all possible. If the man was real then why had he not simply walked out through the door? I would likely never know the answer to that one.
I closed the drawer, wondering whether Herbert might call me out for threatening Marcinko’s life but was pretty sure he wouldn’t. However, I had come to have the meeting with McCain I didn’t think it was CIA-related.
Anita came back. She was no less beautiful in flats and pants than she had been in uniform. I asked her if we should keep the door open while we worked.
“I don’t really want other staff to see me in here,” she replied.
We went to work, and the job took a full two hours to complete. When I was done Anita took her two hundred and headed for the door, telling me to take the document back to the front desk and they’ll have it copied to look much better.
When she was gone, I breathed easier, not because so much beauty had left the room but because she’d talked endlessly while we worked about how she was looking for the perfect man in Washington to marry. The details this positive angel would have to have about her perspective target husband were endless. It was strange to have spent two full hours in a room with a beautiful woman I didn’t know and never said more than a dozen words to.
I followed Anita’s instructions when I checked out the following morning. I hadn’t been given a timeline for my stay in D.C. but, following my confrontation with McCain and Marcinko, I wanted to get back to my wife and regain full control of whatever was left of my sanity. There would be no point in telling her what happened, however, not that I could see.
The copy looked almost professional when I sat and looked through it. I called the ambassador to let him know that I’d be coming a bit early for the meeting. There was a cab waiting out front. The ambassador wasn’t in but it didn’t matter. It was either sitting at the Willard and waiting or getting to the office where I’d have secure communications, assuming that the CIA had installed encrypted equipment. I had to make sure that Herbert was aware of what had happened in the room with McCain and also to assure myself that I hadn’t blown a CIA mission I was unaware was one. If they wanted me to go back to the Nam I didn’t see how I could avoid it, even though I felt at my very foundations that this time I would die there.
The ride to the office was over in minutes, the taxi drivers in Washington proved to be fast and efficient, if not a bit pricey. The .45 was in my bag so I’d have to drop that off at Dennis Morgan’s place on “G” Street if he would only answer the phone.
I walked up to the front doors of the building only to find them locked. I put both hands against the glass to cut the glare and saw an attendant at the counter, realizing that the offices were going in much faster than I would ever have anticipated. The ambassador was proving to be a wonder, and I was relieved. I simply didn’t have the time or experience to start, staff, and build an insurance office. It was one thing to take over an existing office, like my Banker’s office but not to build one from scratch.
The guard came to the glass doors and pushed one open.
“Electronic locks, sir, and how can I help you?”
“Thanks,” I replied, “I’m here to see the ambassador upstairs.”
“Do you have a pass?” the guard asked.
“I don’t need a pass,” I replied. “I’m the man. That man. You need to call upstairs, or I’ll be soon dealing with someone else.”
“Oh, if that’s the way it is…come on in. I understand who and what you are, sir.”
I walked through the door he held open.
“What’s your name?” I asked, surprised.
“Morty,” he said, which made sense since his name tag I hadn’t noticed read ‘Morris’ in small letters.
Morty directed me to walk through a detector. I looked at him for a few seconds, and then walked around it and waited.
“Clear,” he said, not missing a beat.
“Military?” I asked over my shoulder, headed for the elevators.
“Marines,” Morty answered, confirming my suspicion. He looked and talked like a Marine.
“We’ll talk later,” I said, making a mental note that I might just have a source inside who was of similar mind and blood. “Give me your phone number,” I instructed.“
I can write it down” Morty asked, holding out his hand.
I took out my ever-present small notebook and Morty entered his name into my contact list.
Once on the elevator, I checked out his entry. It read “Staff Sergeant,” and there was no retired written. The Agency was going full out in developing my idea for the company and likely now everything else. I didn’t know whether to be happy or afraid. It was all happening too fast, and I wasn’t yet fully stable mentally. The confrontation had thrown me and my inability to keep Junior buried bothered me a lot. I would have to talk to Mary. She was all I had.
Once reaching the floor the doors opened and a similar but less active scene greeted me. A woman walked out of the bedlam and smiled.
“Follow me,” she said. I didn’t say ‘anywhere’ but I thought it with a smile.
So many women in D.C. resembled Anita Mason it was unreal.
She led me to a side conference room. I opened the door and entered. Music was being played and the strains of one of my favorite songs came through.
“Stand by Me,” was being played through the ceiling-mounted speakers. The lyrics seemed so appropriate. The room was about one-third filled as I walked to the front and the conversation, and then the music, died off. The ambassador was sitting in the front row and next to him was Tony Herbert.
I wouldn’t have to call Herbert about the good news, but the bad was that he wasn’t showing up for no reason at all.
The ambassador stood up and held out his left hand. I pulled the file from my bag and gave it to him.
“I’ll have this reproduced for everyone and then we can go over the details here. Do you want to introduce yourself while this is done?”
“No, it can wait until everyone has a hard copy for a few minutes,” I replied.
“I’ll talk to Tony in private if you don’t mind.”
“Not a problem,” the ambassador said, turning to address the group while handing the file off to the woman who’d welcomed me.
Tony and I headed for a small office off to one side of the room. He followed me in and closed the door
“Whatever you did, and I have some kind of idea about what it was, blew the minds of both men you met in your room,” he said, shaking his head.
My heart sank. McCain and Marcinko were part of an Agency mission. I’d read it all wrong because I knew I’d wanted to read it all wrong.
“Yes,’ I answered, even though Herbert hadn’t asked a question.
“Both are convinced that you are the man for the job,” Herbert went on, ignoring both the tone of my voice and going into any detail about what I’d done.
“Marcinko will come to Albuquerque and meet with you there, so as soon as you’re done here there’s a plane waiting at National. A King Air. You’ll be there in about four hours from takeoff. Marcinko may ride with you, I don’t know that. McCain seems oddly reticent about the mission but that’s not my problem. He did say he would never meet with you privately again. I don’t know that that’s about either, but I also don’t care.”
“What King Air are you talking about, realizing that I’d heard that name before but never seen one before.
“Allen Weh sent it,” Herbert replied. “The guy in your building you don’t like.”
“How in hell would you know whether I like him or not?” I asked, exasperated.
“That’s what he said,” Herbert laughed. “You do sort of wear your heart on your sleeve, I mean, for a secret agent and all that stuff. I’m out of here. Call me when you’ve made your decision from home.”
Herbert walked out the door, shutting it behind him. I breathed in and out deeply. I walked over to the phone and called my wife, not bothering to check and see whether the phones were encrypted or not. She answered on the second ring as if she was waiting for the phone to ring.
“I’ll be home this afternoon,” I said, without even saying hello.
“And…” she replied as if somehow knowing I wasn’t calling to let her know I was coming at all.
“They’re calling me back to rescue some POWs,” I got out.
“You’re not calling me for my permission, are you,” she replied after a few seconds, unable to keep the slight break in her voice hidden.
“I will lay it all out to you when I get there later today,” I said, a resolve growing inside of me. “I am in fact, after letting you know everything, going to let you make the decision.”
Mary hung up the phone, saying nothing, not even goodbye.
Mr. Strauss, Sir.
YES, Brilliant; – Mr. Chrly has made a comment here that describes how I often feel after reading one of the chapters.
He wrote:
Once again, a chapter has made me want to head directly for where ever you happen to be so I could sit and listen to you speak of things many of us have no clue about !
Thank you, Mr. Chrly for putting into words the way I feel but could not do myself. And thank you Mr. Strauss for sharing, and doing so in a way that makes me want to learn more.
Thanks so very much for putting this wonderful comment up here. I have recopied it and put it up on all my Facebook sites. Much appreciated my friend.
Semper fi,
Jim
Marcinko was and is complete phony. Not sure how to read McCain but being a politician with must have been extreme PTSD he can be forgiven
Junior is you gift your darkside which we all have
You learned to control yours demons
what a crock 2000 POW s ?
I am anxious to hear how it worked out
what a strange existence you chose
Amazing life
Perceptive as usual Richard. Only you and Homan could get me to attend Marine Corps Balls and that is saying something right there. Hollywood is buying my first book, it would appear and dealing with the five companies is a bitch. When I was writing shows under the table all I had was one guy or gall to report to. The TV thing different though. The movie people, and this is supposed to be a feature film, is more intense and these people work like 7 days a week. Jeez.
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
but was I guying into another fake player – should be ‘buying’
Another great chapter, glad you made it out and can write about it.
Thanks Kathi, and I much appreciate the help and the great compliment!
Semper fi,
Jim
very well done on paper and in real time , many wish we would be so strong and in control of the room
The real danger is that it did not have to end that way. McCain saw where it was possibly going
and did the right thing. Not me. He was a good man but bent over the barrel of near terminal PTSD.
Marcinko was not so stricken and that means he wasn’t ‘of the cloth’ like McCain and I.
Thanks for the incisive comment and the great compliment.
Semper fi,
Jim
I started following Your story around the middle of 30 Days. Ordered book 1 and 2 to catch up and have been following ever since and I believe You stepped from the Frying Pan directly into the Fire. Things seem to accelerate around You at incredible speed.. Waiting for the next chapter is agonizing. When I start these type books I will often sit down and read it in it’s entirety at one sitting. You really know how to keep things rolling! God Speed!
I publish for free chapter by chapter on here because some of the veterans have no money. I never expected to develop a following here and I never ever expected that the readers writing would effect my writing of the story, but they have. I have also gotten great motivation from comments like your own. When life comes ta me I don’t or can’t just bail on the writing. I must keep going for you and the other special people who are my readers on here. Thank you for that.
Semper fi,
Jim
LT, another great chapter with shocking occurrences. Never thought Junior would arise as he did. Was very persuasive when he did that’s for sure. I’m sure McCain was ready to shit his pants because he knew your background and instantly realize he and Marcinko were in the lions den without permission. I must go back and read early chapters to keep characters straight. Enjoyable reading.
Thanks JT for the wonderful compliments.That was a day in that room and then after too.
There was no static display in my life at that time. Everything was moving at relativistic speeds
and calling for near instant decisions.
Sempre fi,
Jim
I’ve followed you from day one and I’m amazed at the life you have lived
LT. when I read it’s like being in a movie like watching it in my head as I read. Your very good at what you
do. I’ll follow you to the end.
Semper Fi brother.
Can’t be disappointed in a compliment like that Tucker. Man oh man, i much appreciate.
i will work at getting ever better.
Semper fi,
jim
Marcinko ? I read his autobiography and at least one of his books and was not overly impressed by either. Just the fact that he and McCain entered your room and did not search it goes to show that Marcinko was not the top tier operator that he portrayed himself to be. Now why would McCain want to get you involved in finding POWs when he publicly declared that there were none left in in SEA ? And Marcinko claiming that there were 2000 POWs left in SEA how in the hell are you going to rescue all of them ? Are the guys at Soldier Of Fortune Magazine somehow involved in this ? Tony had links to them , so any thing is possible now.
Many times, missions don’t have to make sense. Marcinko was indeed hooked up with the whole phony Soldiers of Fortune thing back in the day. Why, if he was the real deal? Why the macho presentation? Same thing. McCain was the real deal but he had issues, which we will get into.
Thanks for the usual great comment and the support you have demonstrated through these last few years.
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
Jeeze Lt, things happened so fast, it took 2 reads to get it all. The rabbit hole is getting deeper and deeper and there is no rope to climb out!!! Semper Fi sir!!
There is always a way out of the hole, but it takes life experience and then
some measure of intellect to figure it out. I was holding a lot of life experience, although not enough to control Junior…at least not yet then. Thanks for the great comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim,
The twists and turns at the Strauss Cowardly Lion pretzel factory continue.
How many times can you say “wow, I did not see that coming” when you read one of your chapters?
Now you are going to dump THIS decision on Mary? Didn’t see that coming. No way she gives a green light. You gotta know that. She almost lost you there. She hung up on you because she is super angry that you are even CONSIDERING such a trip back to that country. And now you are toying with the idea to go BACK–even though you have a growing family that is depending on you?
Thanks for another fix. The bad part for me is that I have to wait around for 6 more days before you drop the next chapter at my internet doorstep.
Wishing you a great week.
THE WALTER DUKE. I understand your misgivings about putting such a burden of decision on Mary, but you have read about her a lot now and she never considered those things burdens. She loved to know as much as she could and then be consulted on the decisions. I could always go to her with just about anything unless I felt her knowing might endanger her (like I never brought her in on UFO stuff). Thanks on thinking sane thoughts when I was living on the very edge of insane times.
Semper fi, my great friend,
Jim
“We’re not leaving,” McCain replied, getting Marcinko to the door and opening it. “I’m saving your life.”
Guess he understood you as Jr came out !!
Sadly alot of us have a Jr hidden away which may appear when unexpected, but you surely handled that situation well !!
The insurance business will be picking up I think..
Great chapter James !
Semper Fi
Yes, those of us who’ve come through the combat grinder always have our flank security deterrers up and functioning. McCain was accurate in his assessment and then definitive in getting himself out of there with Marcinko in tow. The insurance business paid huge dividends in knowledge and money.
Semper fi,
Jim
Deeper and deeper into the catacombs and mazes of the Agency! And facing down Marcinko as well…
Another excellent chapter by my favorite author and friend! Truly a miracle that you’ve survived some of your exploits.
I do reckon we’ll see how Allen Weh works out; right now, he is beginning to seem like another company asset.
You better write faster, James!
Don’t scare me Craig. I need you right here and making comment Like you do. I worry, as you know. I haven’t exactly been great about keeping people around or that close to me. Thanks for the usual great comment and the compliments.
Semper fi, my great friend
Jim
My oh my, it would appear your unseen benefactor had no problem in marketing your virtues to those in need.
Nixon, Haldeman, Erlichman, Marcinko, McCain… A rogue’s gallery of infamous names of the era. You did manage to attract all the wrong sort of attention. Your job exposed you and your wife to an artifact that does not comply with physics, radioactive material, now threatening to send you back to the place that nearly killed you … yet still you stand up as to say, ” if not me then who?”
A true warrior’s ethos, knowing well the sin to the soul of combat, you don’t seek to fight but won’t fold when the fight comes to you.
I suspect as much as it will crush her, Mary won’t deny who/what you are or have become since Jr.
An electrifying read! Keep it up !
Deas Gu Cath !
“Ready for the fray,” the Scottish motto of the regiment. Yes, a neat expression with the mystery being the real meaning of the word ‘ready.’ That was a pretty well put together and rolling compliment. Nice day to get it because Hollywood called three days ago and very day since. The first book is to be sold and a movie made. They are filming the trailer for review by the producers who will bid on it. I’m not nervous simply because I’ve worked in Hollywood and almost nothing there is real. They would not waster their time if there was nothing in it for them…I presume but don’t know. I spend all my money on getting the newspaper out and selling my books at a loss! What an ego I have! Thanks for this terrific compliment to my story and even to my manner of getting through life.
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
Attempted to comment earlier but tremor hit some thing and it disappeared. Don’t think it was the content.
My favorite close protection crew was either the former French Foreign Legion or SAS Brits, both with low key attired. Never could understand the US military cowboy motif.
Also I think Junior is who you are, but the cherub works better for polite company! This book plays better because you actually operating rather than searching! Good thing Mary carries on as your guardian angel.
Outstanding
Possibly the most coherent and well formed comment Colonel Homan has put up on the site in some time. I live in polite company, for the most part, and so the Colonel is correct. The Cherub was my nickname in the CIA and that moniker I got from George Bush Sr. himeself simply because I did not resemble at all what I really was. I am not a violent man to this day…unless asked to be or place unavoidably in harsh circumstance. When I say ‘asked to be,’ I am referring to the potential individual whom is about to experience the effects of combat. Yes, people in my life have actually done that, Colonel. Thanks for the comments about my wife Mary, as they are spot on…and I know you speak from the heart because we are such close friends and are able to spend so much time together. Thank you.
Semper fi, my great friend,
Jim
Sheesh! Secret Agent Man! Agent 007 + Well, we at least do not have to wonder why McCain seemed uncomfortable. How in the Hell have you lived this long.
Still waiting for your meet with the Gunny. Will it ever happen?
Yes, the Gunny will happen but I can’t tell you anymore, of course. Thanks for liking the work and following and then commenting. Means a lot to me.
Semper fi,
Jim
You did a great job in laying out the sequence of story elements. By having the meeting with McCain and Marcinko first, and then the meeting with the Ambassador and Herbert at the end, gave my heart enough time to start beating again.
Another good grief!
Clay
The sequences occurred as reported and I didn’t have to do any shifting around at all. I remember all the so vividly that I see many of the scenes before me as I write. Thanks for the detail of your writing about the story though. Much enjoy the way you put words together too.
Semper fi,
Jim
James you must have the resolve of 1,000 lions.
Thanks Charles, must be down a few by this age! Much appreciate the comment and the great compliment.
Semper fi,
Jim
I may be wrong but is the timeframe for Rambo in sync with this meeting? Rambo as a character was 1982?
Tom, the movie was released in 1982, the book was first published in 1972. Thanks for looking into
it though.
Semper fi,
Jim
I am not clear what alerted you about Marcinco, especially when he was with a known entitity like McCain?
There exists no known entities for real combat veterans. We turn into mostly those who either missed out, wanted to be or make believe they are such. And, of course great guys who are not like that. Marcinko gave off all of the effusive macho crap that guys who are not real combat veterans never give off. They lived and don’t want to go back into combat. They do not threaten. They just do if it is absolutely required.
And sometimes not, like in that room. I do not do well with aggressive male macho types. They don’t do very well with me either.
Semper fi and thanks for the great comment.
Jim
Once again , a chapter has made me want to head directly for where ever you happen to be so I could sit and listen to you speak of things many of us have no clue about ! Knowing that is not possible,I will just refill my coffee, sit and let my mind wander to those times ….and wait patiently for the next chapter 🙂
Fantastic compliment Chrly and I cannot thank you enough for starting this day out with the reading of it and responding. I never talk of those days with anyone here in Lake Geneva. Nobody knows who I am, what I was or what I’ve turned out to be. Only on here does the reality get laid down and the readers learn that I am, indeed, a rather rare creature. The general public has no need to know and I don’t need the pain of their not believing or doing vast fact-checking in hopes of catching me at something. Thanks for the compliment at the end of that comment too.
Semper fi,
Jim
Up to this point, we’ve only caught a glimpse or a hint of Junior. We all know that he’s there, right below the surface. You’ve done a remarkable job of keeping him held down this long LT. Semper Fi.
Colonel Homan, my protector flying his A6 overhead is till flying cover for me all these years later, but he thinks Junior is the true expression of my personality and existence in society but that conclusion is in error. If that was the case I would be long dead or incarcerated for life. The Cowardly Lion is all about not devastating the enemy. It’s about accommodating and figuring out a way through knotty aggressive male crap. They know not what they do was assumed to be what Christ said on the cross. That expression resounds through my mind at all times. The people I live around don’t read my books so I can be what they believe me to be. The Cherub or Beach Ball or any of the other harmless nicknames I’ve been given.
Thanks for the great comment and the compliment of its writing.
Semper fe,
Jim
Richard Marcinko? Oh good grief!
Thanks Monty, the chapter just came out and Im sure glad you liked it.
Yes, Marcinko was piece of work.
Semper fi,
Jim