The ‘unseeable’ was coming home to roost, I now understood. The artifact that was entrusted to me had something to do with San Onofre, the one ‘pod’ that had been taken out of service to become some sort of hyper-secret nearly impenetrable laboratory or meeting place was involved, as well as an admiral in the Navy who I was finding out scared the living crap out of every person in the government, including the President himself.
“Why am I becoming the repository for all of this?” I complained in frustration, tinged with a good bit of fear, to my wife.
“Well, let’s see, you deliberately stole the tapes from the car which you and your friends sank for no good reason at all. On top of that, you have managed to become the only person left near these not-so-cleverly conniving people of great power but not great intellect, to the point where they have nobody left to trust at all, including the people they thought they could trust. In other words, you’ve done this to yourself, and us by association, because of things you could have predicted and also things that you couldn’t have possibly foreseen. There, that’s the gist of it. Now, instead of bothering trying to explain all that why don’t you talk to me about what we’re going to do, other than moving at our earliest opportunity.”
I hadn’t been ready for that kind of response from her, so I didn’t answer, instead sitting in stunned silence. As if reading my mind, she went on.
“It’s not all your fault,” she continued. “They put you over there in that war and then wrote you off when you came back. And I’ve known almost all of this stuff as it has been happening but have said little or nothing.”
I wanted to get out of the apartment, drive somewhere else, anywhere else, and think about what my wife had so succinctly stated. That she had delivered her opinion about things as she saw them without any anger, accusation, or rancor of any sort was almost worse than if she’d been angry. First Butch’s diatribe and then Mary’s own. My supposed ‘redemptive’ self-image was taking a few hits and I wondered if I was tough enough to take it. The only real confidence anyone seemed to express toward me was the leadership at the Western White House, and that leadership was trusting me like no other person or outfit I’d ever experienced in my life except for my wife, daughter, and possibly Mrs. Beasley. Bozo liked and respected me, I felt, as I looked over at him. Our eyes locked. I was forced to smile. He sure as hell didn’t trust me, or me him, and I was pleased in the honesty of our unexpressed feelings that needed no other kind of communication.
I was about to make up some lie to escape from where I was when the phone rang.
My wife, sitting at the kitchen counter, answered by picking up the receiver. She didn’t like official calls, especially from the compound, so unless the person calling said something first she merely held the handset to her ear. After a few seconds, she hung up, having said not one word.
“It was them?” I asked, knowing the answer but having to ask.
“Of course,” she said, but with a smile on her face. “You want to dress out in uniform or wear your compound costume? They’re sending one of those funeral vehicles for you.”
My wife didn’t like the compound’s choice of cars, particularly their color.
“We’re never buying a black car,” she’d remarked one day as I’d gone out the door to get into one of the Lincolns. I’d shaken my head but said nothing back to her. The way her mind worked was terrific most of the time but inscrutable at other times.
I looked at my Seiko. It was early afternoon, and I had no idea how long I’d be stuck at the compound. “Uniform,” I replied, deciding that even if I was in and out of the compound in minutes I’d find somewhere like Galloway’s to hole up and think. My thoughts turned back to the one thing that was bothering me most. The artifact and what had to be coming in the meeting I was being called to was lying out there like it was waiting for me. I wasn’t afraid but I was, once more, filled with trepidation. Trusting me was one thing, but making me a potential target, along with my family, was quite another although when dealing with people so powerful the two seemed to run hand in hand.
I got dressed upstairs before going down to say goodbye to Julie, who sat with her doll on the couch, the ‘statue’ of a cat at his place sitting on the side table. Bozo never sat close to her, nor did she make any attempts to pet him. They had an understanding that was beyond my ability to comprehend. The cat, staring as he was, reminded me that some people were exactly like him…very close but also very far away at the same time.
Mary was in the kitchen. I didn’t go out there, instead exiting through the front door and walking down the steps to the street below. I hadn’t checked to see if a ‘funeral’ Lincoln was out there, I just knew it would be.
The Staff Sergeant sat behind the wheel. I got in and we pulled easily and silently away.
“Since when did you become a driver for the organization?” I asked, absently, just making conversation while I prepared myself for what might lay before me.
“What organization would that be, commander, lieutenant, agent, or whatever you are or about to become?” he asked back, checking me out in the rearview mirror.
The man was a good man and likely a great Marine but he was steeped in mystery and seemed to truly enjoy being seen that way, like he was playing some role in a Goldfinger kind of 007 movie, which I admitted to myself rather ruefully, he was.
“Where am I meeting him?” I asked, changing the subject. I had too much on my mind to bother discussing what my future might have in store for me with the CIA or whomever else might want my ‘nobody’ services.
“Nobody,” the Staff Sergeant replied.
“Why are we driving in then?” I asked back, surprised.
“To pick up a package,” he replied.
“Why didn’t you just deliver it?” I asked in frustration.
“It’s not that kind of package. It’s an eyes-only kind of thing.”
“If it’s eyes only then how is that other eyes have got to see it to give it to me?” I said, feeling like I was in grade school and having to deal with students at that level.
“Eyes only is a designation, not an indicator of true sight,” the Staff Sergeant replied.
I felt like an idiot. In RPS school, while still in the Marine Corps (officially, as opposed to the Marine Corps identity I currently carried in my wallet), I’d heard the phrase, but only spoken in humor. Top Secret was the highest classification of secret materials or documents. There was no Eyes Only, Q Clearance, or any of that. There was a ‘Compartmentalized Top Secret’ but nobody at the school would ever reveal what that was. As a custodian I would never be involved with such stuff, I was told. But here I was.
We pulled into the lot, the gate already open and waiting, with the two very spiffy-looking Marines saluting as we entered the nearly empty lot. There was a white pickup truck parked off to one unusual side, as it had three large letters in red painted on its side. The letters were “AEC.” I knew those letters from being around the San Onofre plant. They stood for the Atomic Energy Commission. I knew immediately that the truck was there for me.
We rolled up next to the truck, but nobody got out of the vehicle and its windows were covered with some material that made seeing anybody inside impossible, at least from the angle I was viewing it. The Staff Sergeant got out of the Lincoln without saying anything and walked to the back of the truck, but before he did that he popped open the trunk of the Lincoln. He pulled a wooden crate from the back of the truck after putting its gate down. The box appeared to be a cube about two feet on a side, but the way he carried it made it also appear quite heavy. He hefted the thing into the Lincoln’s trunk, closed the lid, and then got back behind the wheel. The whole transfer had taken only seconds before the car was moving again.
“What did you need me for?” I got out, saying the words more to myself than him, but knowing the answer before he said it.
“Eyes only,” he stated but said no more.
I knew that he meant I had to see the transfer for myself, but I didn’t understand why. The whole affair was cloaked in the weirdest, almost sophomoric, secrecy I’d ever encountered or might have imagined.
“There’s a phone just inside the door there,” the Staff Sergeant said. “The man wants a word with you before we go.”
I got out of the car and walked toward the double doors and, as I expected, the one on the left opened as I approached. I stepped inside and one of the agents handed me a phone handset.
“You got the package, I presume?” Mardian asked, but not saying the words in the tone of a question.
“What do you want me to do with it?” I asked.
Store it in your bedroom,” Mardian said. “Put a lamp on it. Who the hell would ever think about what might be inside of it? You can pass it off as an odd designer thing. The best-kept secrets are kept in plain sight. This object is beyond classified and I know you’re eventually going to want to know why I’m seemingly getting rid of it. Well, I’m not, I’m storing it for later discovery during a more favorable time.”
I pulled the handset away and stared at it in wonder. This artifact had made, or found, its home somewhere inside a nuclear complex. I had no equipment to measure radioactivity and my trust level for the people working in the field was extremely low, after hearing about what had happened to the Marines. Whether that had been deliberate or accidental didn’t matter when it came to a state of hard unmeasurable incompetence the men at the complex had exhibited. That I might store the box in my home next to my wife and my bed was laughable to me, but Mardian talked like anybody might do such a thing.
“You know what’s inside that crate?” I asked the Staff Sergeant from the back seat.
“No sir, and I don’t want to,” he quickly replied. “That’s way above my pay grade.”
His answer made no more sense than the rest of what was happening, so I ignored it and said no more. Upon arriving back on Cabrillo, I indicated that he should park the Lincoln in the driveway next to my Volks. He did so without question, wisely backing into the slot. Putting the car in park, he got out, popped the trunk, and hauled out the crate. As quickly as I could, I exited the vehicle and opened the garage door.
“I was never here, and neither was this thing,” the Staff Sergeant said, before walking out to the Lincoln and quickly driving away.
I stared at the wooden crate and sighed deeply. With a nearby claw hammer, I pried the small nails out that were holding the pieces of wood together until I fully exposed what was inside. I stood and examined what I’d uncovered.
Whatever the object it contained, the aluminum box the artifact was contained, or housed in, was quite something all on its own. Hand-made with aluminum or some similar metal, it was held together with what seemed like patches with two handles, one on each side. Rivets were everywhere around its edges with riveted caps on all its eight corners. A simple locking mechanism mounted three-quarters of the way up one of its faces, held the lid on, which was made of the same metallic material put together with the same kind of hand-crafted expertise. It was the neatest small metal box I’d ever seen. There was a note taped to the top of the box. I opened the sealed envelope and then laughed out loud. The combination to the lock was written on a piece of white paper. So much for high security. The small dial was to be turned five times until the red arrow was pointing straight up. At that time, within four seconds, the smaller button located in the center of the dial was to be pushed in twice and then held until the lock clicked open. I stepped back, turned, and walked out to where my Volks sat parked a few feet away. I decided to wait to examine the artifact itself until I either finished the beach patrol shift, for which if I didn’t leave immediately I’be be late for, or open the box in the morning.
There was also the next tape to be listened to if my life would slow down to some kind of easier pace to allow me to get to it.
Once in the Bronco with Gularte, I finally felt I could relax for the first time in days. What was going on with the White House scandal, the President being in deep trouble, Hunt being killed, and then the stunning revelations about San Onofre, the tapes, the artifact, and even Butch’s brutal assessment of my returned identity back in the ‘real’ world, had shaken me to the core. My wife’s assessment that I’d brought a lot of it on myself wasn’t in any way inaccurate, but hearing her lay it out as only she could still hurt.
Neither of us spoke as we cruised slowly through the city streets until reaching the railroad crossing. There were no trains scheduled that we knew of but nobody working the beach patrol took their appearance lightly. The speed of the trains approaching and passing was extremely deceptive, but there was nothing on this night.
Gularte and I made small talk, mostly about his love life and my strange involvement with the Western White House Crew. My earlier idea that he might be working in cahoots with them had been retired long ago.
“Why did you turn down the CIA offer, if that’s what it was or is?” I asked him, finally, as his refusal had taken me totally by surprise. Of the two of us I would have thought that he, without the responsibility of wife and children and being a rather swashbuckling adventurer would have been the first one to dive right in, but that hadn’t been the case.
“I was a squad leader in combat and then a sergeant instructor when I came home,” he replied in a way that told me he was expecting my question. “You were a commander, and an outstanding one, and you still are although you remain so cloaked almost nobody else can see it. You organized the beach patrol from nothing into something valuable. You did the same with the Dwarfs. That’s not me and I don’t want it to be me. I like my simple life and I always want to be able to quit without notice. That wasn’t the case with the Marine Corps and it’s why I got out. It sure as hell isn’t the case with the CIA, not that anybody affiliated seems to want to say they work for or with that outfit.”
Gularte had never spoken in as much detail without stopping since I’d known him. I was surprised and impressed, not just by his delivery but by the fact that he could not have been more right about anything he said.
“I’m a cop and I like being a cop, and I can thank you for allowing me to be part of what we’ve done because I think all that is what’s behind the department being forced to bring me on full-time.”
“You won’t be working the beach patrol when you’re full-time,” I said, thinking about the obvious fact that I’d be seeing a whole lot less of the man very shortly.
“I know that, which is what I’m talking about,” he shot back with a laugh.
“Neither will you but you don’t know that yet. The uncertainty of that is something that doesn’t bother you at all but I don’t want it in my life.”
“Do you believe in God?” he asked, the question coming out of nowhere.
“What?” was all I could think to reply.
“You heard me,” Gularte said.
The Bronco eased comfortably over the dry sand humps that stretched to the water at low tide. The storm surf was gone, the wind subsided and the peaceful nature of the beach seemed almost permanent. Gularte let the silence stretch on as he guided the vehicle expertly along.
I didn’t want to answer the question, and worse, I couldn’t explain to myself why I wasn’t just tossing something out since it made me so uncomfortable. Gularte deserved more than that, however.
“You were hit badly down in the valley,” Gularte said, his voice soft and low as if he was talking to himself instead of to me. “When you were dying you said that you spoke to God, letting Him know you didn’t believe in him so you wouldn’t have any worries about some afterlife. Then, when the doctors decided you were going to live and you were alone you looked up and asked God to not let you live a normal life.”
I was amazed that Gularte remembered so much from our many conversations. In a two-person police unit, when nothing was going on, as was the case for most beach patrols, there was only one another to talk to. I thought about the dissonant logic my comments, brought together seemed to mean.
“In my opinion, since you’re not answering, you do believe in God. And I think that He was entertained by your first denial of Him so brought you along, just to see what you were going to come up with next. A few months later you did, and He was made to laugh again, as He reached down one finger toward your broken body and granted that wish.”
I was amazed again. As with Butch, I realized that I was missing a lot of depth in the people around me. Gularte had a depth I hadn’t thought existed but you couldn’t recall, recite, and then make such conclusions from anything but an impressive intellect and foundation of some wisdom.
My mind raced in the silence as we drove on, Trestles Beach in the distance, where we’d stop, sit for a bit, and then make the slow trip back to the base of the pier. My belief in God had not been anything I’d thought about since coming home. I wondered if I was supposed to modify whatever belief I had, given that I’d completely shed myself of so many years of being immersed in Catholicism, now that I was aware that it was very likely humans were not the only intelligent life in the universe. That wasn’t something I could share with Gularte but his bringing the subject up had been like a flash across the stretch of my recent life.
What was the meaning of everything I was doing? It appeared that many people somehow knew and trusted that I had some organized and well-thought-out direction when, in reality, I had none. I was still down in the valley, reacting to every new threat, and then moving on to wait for the next.
After our shift together I drove home in the Volks. It was near midnight so I expected everyone to be in bed already asleep at home. When I walked through the front door of the apartment I immediately saw my wife snuggled up under a blanket, awake and waiting for my return. I walked over to sit next to her. She was playing the stereo. The quiet soft sounds of a Beatles song drifted across the room: “Imagine there’s no countries, It isn’t hard to do. Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion, too. Imagine all the people. Livin’ life in peace…”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “What I said was true but the way I said it and when I said it was all wrong.”
I smiled but only hugged her close. Christmas was only days away, and my special gifts of the artifact and the tape were about to be ‘unwrapped.’ The song repeated itself. I wondered how some entertainer, with seemingly so little in the way of harsh life experience, could get it all so right with something so moving but short in length.
With my wife in my arms, my daughter asleep upstairs, and a cat who loved but didn’t trust me, I understood that the God I was trying so hard to either not believe in or truly believe in had allowed me Christmas presents that there could be no higher value placed upon, but quite possibly He’d also added a couple to satisfy my prayer to Him that I did not come home to live a regular life.
James, Security through obscurity sometimes works …or not.
I always enjoy the family scenes. You and Mary are a team.
Some minor editing suggestions follow:
I’ve known almost all of this stuff as it been happening
“it’s” instead of “it”
I’ve known almost all of this stuff as it’s been happening
but have said little or nothing.
Close quote
but have said little or nothing.”
think about what my wife had so succinctly and stated
Drop “and”
think about what my wife had so succinctly stated
I was about to make up some lie
My wife, sitting at the kitchen counter
plus some following lines
All seem to have a beginning tab spacing rather than a few spaces.
Backspace or not as you see fit for cleaner layout
My wife, sitting at the kitchen counter, answered but picked up the receiver.
Maybe “by” instead of “but”
“picking” instead of “picked”
My wife, sitting at the kitchen counter, answered by picking up the receiver.
They had an understanding that was beyond my ability to understand.
“understand” twice in sentence. Maybe synonym like “comprehend”
They had an understanding that was beyond my ability to comprehend.
“Why are we driving in then?” asked back, surprised.
Add “I” before “asked”
“Why are we driving in then?” I asked back, surprised.
/Sequence issue/
Need to fit the phone call before leaving compound.
The whole transfer had taken only seconds before the car was moving again.
Maybe end with “taken only seconds.”
Drop “before the car was moving again.”
CUT lines
“Where are we going now?” I asked.
“Back to your place,” he replied, passing through the gate once more.
Next line is:
“What did you need me for?”
/Then after “Mardian talked like anybody might do such a thing.”
Add a line putting you back in the car
“After Mardian concluded the call I returned to the Lincoln.”
OR some such.
Place previously cut lines
“Where are we going now?” I asked.
“Back to your place,” he replied, passing through the gate once more.
Next line is: “You know what’s inside that crate?”
Whether that had been deliberate or accidentally didn’t matter
“accidental” rather than “accidentally”
dry sand humps that stretch to the water at low tide.
“stretch” or “stretched” ? “stretched” seems better. Your call.
dry sand humps that stretched to the water at low tide.
beach patrols, there was only one and another to talk to
Drop “and”
beach patrols, there was only one another to talk to
What I said was true but the way I said it and when I said it was all wrong.
Needs quotes
“What I said was true but the way I said it and when I said it was all wrong.”
had allowed me Christmas presents that there could be a higher value placed upon
/I’m assuming the presents referred to here are Mary, Julie, & Bozo/
Maybe change “a” before “higher” to “no”
so meaning is highest value
had allowed me Christmas presents that there could be no higher value placed upon
FWIW “Imagine” was the song played when the final credits rolled for the movie “The Killing Fields.”
Blessings & Be Well
It’s uncommon, DanC, for most authors to write of having a terrific wife. The story with that featured removes the opportunity of having dynamic romantic tension, a huge motivator in so many fictional accounts. Thanks for coming back and thanks for that compliment, as well. As you know, without you the work sadly lacks what it really needs in detail and editorial help. I cannot thank you enough.
Your friend,
and Semper fi,
Jim
As usual James, this another great peace of writing in an epic tale
Thanks Todd, pleasure to read your comments…always.
Thank you and,
Semper fi,
Jim
James you keep rocking and writing there. Outstanding.
Thanks a lot for coming in to comment again Todd. Where have you been? As always, so damned supportive using the fewest of words.
Thanks for hat support, especially such public support here.
Semper fi,
Jim
LT another interesting chapter! I can’t wait to know what the “artifact” is (if we ever find out). You have said many times in your comments that you have received excellent care at the VA. I concur! I have received nothing but excellent care through the VA and as a retired RN I would know good care from bad care. I have heard many vets complain about their VA care but I think it is unrealistic expectations in most cases. The complaints seem to come from only a few locations. VA care in the past was a little shaky but over all has improved greatly. I hope you and your family had a good Holiday Season. Semper Fi Sir.
Terry, anyone can run into lousy medical care at any time. I don’t care whether its at the Mayo or a VA facility.
I tend to run with the places that have great personable an respectful personnel, public or private. Yokosuka was wonderful
because of the people. Strictly because of the personnel. Oakland sucked even though in a brand new facility. I transferred from North
Chicago to Milwaukee VA there. It was the people. North Chicago has the equipment and the facility…but its personnel are second class
for the most part. Not only did many of them not care, they made me sure that they didn’t care. I left, all I could do. Maybe one day,
if they have a hunting season on them allowing for ear tags, I might return. That’s the kind of hostility that badly applied medical care
creates. I can’t afford to feel that way. Thanks for a great comment and Happy New Year.
Semper fi,
Jim
My Friend, I have been wondering since lunch at your home yesterday whether you might still have that strange box with the “artifact somewhere in your basement! I kind of assumed you were only an unknown but safe staging area for it. “They” whoever the next “they” was would claim it! All sorts of questions: Were you able to open it? Was it active? Who knows where it is now….along with your readers???
Ah, the first inquiry with respect to the artifact. I’m afraid that I cannot answer the questions here as that would prejudice the development
of the following chapters but I can assure you that the artifact was real and terrifying, not because of its supposed alien origin but because
of the ramifications of its very existence. More in the reading and thanks for the very apropos comment as you wait…and thanks for the patience
as well.
Semper fi, my great friend,
Jim
Happy NEW YEAR! James and your family! Another good chapter. Where are we headed next?
You are headed straight into a modified world where you get to know certain things now unknown but quite possibly impossible to believe. I didn’t create all this; I’m just doing my best to recall and lay it all out.
The chips must fall where they may.
Thanks for the compliment and the good wishes too!
Semper fi,
Jim
Bobby Inman and the DIA.
And then there was that. I was not involved with either the Inman or the DIA back then.
That would all come later in my career with the agency (at least the DIA part).
The DIA pulls a lot more stuff than most people might realize, if they’ve even heard of that powerful but mostly unknown agency.
Semper fi, and thanks for bringing that up.
Jim
One of our fall of Saigon Marines worked for the DIA after his tour on the MSG program was over, I believe he spent 12 years there before returning to the regular USMC.
One of the alphabet soup agencies nobody knows almost anything about. The DIA is
actually broken into assorted intelligence sub-agencies, one for each military service.
Semper fi, and thanks for the data.
Jim
Mr. Strauss, Sir.
Thank you for your story. Among my many blessings, it is one of the things that I am thankful for and look forward to. I’m not sure you can imagine the impact of you sharing your life story is on those of us (ME) who have lived “an ordinary life”. That everything is a secret, except that nothing about you was a secret to those people. That unlike many war movies, the battles in war are truly hell on earth. Some insight into way the military works and/or doesn’t work. The underworld of national politics and those who are advisors to the politicians.
On another note, it seems kind of funny to me how I find myself feeling as I read of your upcoming tests, and of your friend Mr. Wilcox having some “procedure”. I feel as I might feel if these events were happening to a family member. I wish I was better able to describe the connection that I often feel as I read the chapters and comments. I want to say thank you and best wishes in 2024 to you, your family, and this group that I have inexplicably come to feel close to.
The connection. What a great word to use here.
Not just about your own, but my own and some of the others on here
who chime in or sit by the sidelines cheering others on.
I am very ‘connected’ to the people who write on here and have come to share much more about their lives than I would ever have expected.
I thought that Cowardly would Simon be a recitation and might be ignored altogether.
I knew there was some really interesting stuff I was involved with but never imagined that it was stuff that people would so identify with.
And me.
I am always surprised by the depth of emotion that so many express toward me and I try to reflect back to them.
To share the agony of someone like Wilcox and what he’s going through is a privilege seldom offered to others in life, or it’s not recognized as the compliment it really is.
Thanks for mentioning that.
I wait with trepidation my next communication from him, and hope at my own core, that there will be one.
Thanks for this great comment and the compliment you pay me in its writing.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim, “little PVC thing”? After a quick ‘google’ search, how “little” it is depends on a number of things. Regardless, you, Mary & your family have been added to my daily conversations with God & Jesus. Blessings for the here and now, as well as the rest of the year(s). Regards, Doug
May God make his face to shine upon you. That saying, now so much a part of my own prayers and wishes is written over the memorial at Pearl Harbor, nearby to where I was raised as a kid. Thanks for the consideration and your wishes, as well as the properly inexpressible warmth you give me in putting me in your own prayers. I am done with the tests and wear a monitor so they can watch me back at the hospital, as pertains to the heart thing. I feel fine but carry a bottle of nitro just in case as I too soldier on into older age. Appreciate the thought and action denoted by what you’ve written here.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim, As always, you’re very welcome. I no longer remember when or how I “found” you & your various writings, but I won the lottery – Some great stories, some Sci-Fi, some time in Hell & now, this continuation of you & your family’s life. I look forward to opening this email address to see if another gift has been left by you. You have informed, exposed me to new things, made me do more research, made me think. Also, entertained & made me laugh. And, I think, have helped other soldiers who came back from your Hell, as well as other Hells. And their families. Some may not realize it or realize the extent of it – Maybe just feal something in their souls. Just sayin’. And for that, thank you. (Now, I’ll give you a moment to tilt your head from side to side, or whatever you do to let some of the air/steam/etc out of your head – To reduce the swelling.) I’ve missed some opportunities to comment with some mini-tomes. But I will note the following – I’ve never met someone who can think ‘inside’ as well as ‘outside’ the box at the same time when dealing with an issue, whether life threatening or not, as you do. I noticed it during your time in the Valley & since then up to the present timeline story. I know that things aren’t full proof, but I believe that you continued to benefit from that .. that .. (S__t – What’s the word for it? Oh yeah.) that innate skill since your time during & after the West White House. Some folks can ‘learn’ to open their minds to other options, though sometimes we forget. It’s like on ‘Wheel of Fortune’, when we’re yelling at the folks on the TV what the last word of the puzzle is & they just don’t get it!!! (Oh, it’s not my fault they haven’t developed their telepathic (Damn I love ‘spell check!) abilities to the proper level.) Only to find out that the ‘last’ word was in fact different than what I was thinking. Now, my word would have worked just fine — kinda. Regardless, like I said, for you it seems innate, though I think there have been times where you didn’t have all the information — Like I also said – Nothing is 100%, even innate things. Changing gears – This monitor – Has it become another appendage for life or just temporary for ‘a while’? Also, as I have been told – “I don’t care how good you feel – Take your f___ing meds or I’ll slap the s__t out of you!!” It’s good, well intention-ed, loving advice. Prayers can work, but I’m pretty sure there are many times that God & Jesus just shake their heads while saying in their best Gomer Pyle voice – ‘Stupid – Stupid – Stupid’. This ‘mini tome’ is done. Regards, Doug
Danko, that was no ‘mini’ tome. That was a tome in completion, well described…a sort of stream of consciousness thing but with
all there right subject changes, punctuation and well intended, and well received prose. Nice work. I reread it three tines, something I don’t
ordinarily do. You are an interesting fellow and the depth of your intellect and gathered together life experience significant. Fun to read,
sort of how you describe my work now and then. That you worked to put your tome up on here, for the other readers to consume, I much appreciate
and presume they do too. Even at my rate of writing and the books I have out there, not to mention other stuff, I simply don’t get that much
in the way of comments back. I love each and every one, as this one of your own, and I answer each and every one as I am doing here.
Thanks for making think, about me and also about you and life itself.
Semper fi,
Jim
At 81 years old now looking back at 11 years long ago as an Army Chemical Corps officer trained in the Basic course at Ft. McClellan Anniston, AL; then off to Friedberg, Hesse, FRG. to HQ 3rd Brigade, 3rd Armored Division at the end holding 8 officer positions at once; then back to he Chemical Advanced course in Anniston, AL again; then assigned as Assistant Cml Officer to HQ IFFORCEV Nha Trang, Vietnam selecting Agent Orange targets; then to St. John’s University ROTC Department Jamaica, NY, as Adjutant and Instructor; and finally to my last assignment at Office of Project Management monitoring 47 projects at HQ US Army Material & Readiness Command, Washington, DC, but eventually moved to Alexandria, Va. It looks pretty boring as I look back and then read your complex, dangerous, hair raising, missions both in the Marines and then in the “jobs” in which you participated after that. I look forward to each story as you produce them with great anticipation. It keeps my brain alive!
You have made it 81 years. I would say congratulations but many people who reach the age that I myself am not far from don’t necessarily want to be either noted nor complimented for it. As with everything else in life, there’s a positive and negative connotation to it. God, but what an extensive work record in governmental and military service! Analytically, I don’t think I could spend much personal time with you talking about it without a dictionary, several books on the sciences you had to master and, of course, some maps to figure out where all the happened. Thanks for the compliments about my own other ‘swashbuckling’ background, much of which I leave to the imagination because it’s hard to portray either the idiocy and ignorance behind some of the decision-making or the depth of fear that was also a motivator and something to be feared itself. I am tickled that your brain is being kept alive because, from here and what you’ve written, I conclude that it is a brain that really needs to be kept going and presenting what it does to the world. That you chose to express some of what you are, were and know on here is a great compliment and I cannot thank you enough!
Simper fi,
Jim
A few typos found, but will leave for others more competent to annotate for correction as they don’t really interfere with your story line..
So Christmas has now come and gone and here you are with new confounding gifts and possibly more questions than answers, Seems as though Gularte has a similar insight but not comparable to that of your wives.
Wish you and yours a happy New Year Lt. 🙂
Great read with once again more questions needing answers, keep ’em coming and enjoy the coffee 😉
Semper Fi
I’ve written in comments before some of the problems when you are trying to recite a litany of things that happened in the past and not writing a piece of fiction. Fiction has so much more flexibility as the endings of events can all be written as revealed conclusions and then wound together like a braided hawser. Not so, the recitation thing. Some of the mysteries remain mysteries today and it’s been one helluva lot of years gone by. Thanks for the compliment and thanks for the coffee! I am working on getting a new Apple laptop to replace this one as the batteries are going and now I have to sit around at coffee shops plugged in, which isn’t as easy as I thought it would be. But, what the hell, more adventure. People look at me weirdly at times out here, where I prefer to write instead of facing a window wall at home, because I type so fast and my intentful attention is so attuned to the screen in front of me. The real coffee next to me always grows cold before I remember to reach over and grab a mouthful. Thanks for the writing and its depth.
Semper fi,
Jim
Happy New Year and I pray that you get good results from you heart test. December 27th was 10 years since I had a triple by pass plus a carotid artery done. One heck of a confusing chapter James but you leave us all hanging and wanting more!
I can only imagine what is in the crate but I am sure you will let us know soon. As far as your walk with the Lord goes I encourage you to read John 14:6 and mediate on that.
For those that can’t recite accurately many writings in the Bible: In John 14:6, Jesus proclaimed, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” In other words, there are no options on the route to eternal life—there is only one way, and Jesus is that way.” What a great quote and a way to get me through another bad weather Saturday. Outer warmth is so much easier to take care of than inner warmth, but you reach over with your comment and provide a ‘warm blanket’ to that effect. Thank you ever so much Charles and I know, since you are up in Green Bay, that it’s a heck of a lot colder and more snowy than it is down here in Lake Geneva. You are a great man.
Semper fi,
Jim
This was another good article that pushed multiple axis of thinking. The mystery of the tapes, the artifact, and now the box makes me wonder where that leads, Then the psychological and metaphysical concepts you write with Gullarte, your wife, and “your” cat.
i have read four or five books by the same author over the holidays, and enjoyed reading them. I want to finish all of them because they entertain me, but they have no literary or philosophical value that I have seen yet. I find so much of all three in your writings.
May my God grant you and your family health and happiness in this new year.
Kemp
Higher praise cannot likely be heaped up an author who remains kind of a ‘nobody’ out here, sort of like when I was a house mouse working for the Western White House crew. I lay awake at night, many times, my wife sleeping at my side, Bentley my current version of Bozo at my feet, thinking about my own imperfections and how I have come to be where I am. I try to reveal as many of the imperfections along the way that have sometimes helped and also prevented me from doing better in life. I do have, however, those imperfections, previously implemented or practiced that I don’t reveal and never want to. I wonder if everyone has those, or if they are of the same magnitude. Thanks for complimenting my attempts to write as much reality into the work as I possibly can, and still remain sane and capable of delivering more. That I’ve ‘reached’ you in the areas of philosophy and literary success makes me feel pretty damned great, and not occasionally, I need that kind of support, although many, not laying there on my bed contemplating, might thinks so. My feelings about God granite you and your family that same happiness and health probably doesn’t have to be written here, because we go so far back together. But, there it is, anyway.
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
Another suspenseful chapter: difficult to imagine what is the artifact and how it relates! Kinda odd that you bring up your belief, or non-belief in God at this precise time because I, even now in my upper 80s, am struggling mightily with that question! At any rate, I wish for you and yours a Happy New Year, may you be blessed with happiness and contentment throughout the year!
Semper fi Sir!
Thanks Joe for being as open as you are being about your ability to truly find and dig up a foundational belief in God that’s probably been there all along but lain dormant simply because life rushes at us so hard and constantly that such thoughts just don’t occupy us for very long or at all…until we finally have time to give them full and serious consideration. I’m not a preacher or priest or any of that formal stuff. Just a guy who’s been through a lot, or, as a DEA agent once said to me after seeing the many violence-caused scars that criss cross my horse, “I think this guy’s been around the Horn a few times.” I believe there is a God and that part of His thing is that we never ever get to be 100 percent sure he’s there. I’ve come to smile upon seeing the results of His work when I pray and ask for something, although not always smiling because He and I often disagree with the way in which he implements the results after my specific begging. Here’s a poem I wrote recently kind of about that sort of thing. I put it up on LinkedIn but don’t expect to win any prizes in presenting! BEGGERS OF GOD
By James Strauss
It’s not that He doesn’t come,
It’s that He doesn’t come as requested.
The Lord’s therapy is one of action,
Come down to a world of muted reaction.
I ask him for things and resolutions,
But often forget about decent definition.
And so He comes in silent humor,
Answering hard like a whispered rumor.
I pray alone with no human preacher,
Belief in Him beyond that of man.
I ask to do my part in this one act play,
His laugh in reply unheard as I pray.
Belief in Him is kind of new to me,
His being invisible and silent a problem.
It took years to stop wanting some comment,
Before finding his lips are sealed with cement.
But I watch close after asking and listen,
He won’t tell me or say not one word.
I still listen but now with eyes wide open,
For its action I know is what I’m hoping.
My cat and I kneel as all beggars must,
Asking in fervor is not a whole lot of trust,
His answer will come in His time and that’s that,
My hope dim but there, unlike that of my cat.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim, So now I find out you are also a poet – From the Valley, to the WWH & to beyond. Now those are but memories, though I believe, some are more vivid & alive than others – To author, writer & poet. Ya know, I think all of us, except the walking/living dead, are poets in some way. Most of us really suck at it & wouldn’t be considered as even a footnoted footnote in an unpublished “Cat in the Hat” series book nor have we ever even considered ourselves, in our most wildest moments, as poets. And yet, in our most quiet of moments, our thoughts, our “poetry” is good enough for us. Just sayin’. Regards, Doug
I don’t normally put the poetry on my author site so I don’t know where you saw any of it. we are mostly all writers and poets, those of us
who learn to manipulate the language. Now, the question becomes who is any good at it? That takes into account the audience, the readers and so on.
Thanks for the usual ‘street wisdom’ of your comment and your putting it up on here.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim, I’ve only seen the one above – “Beggers of God”. I wouldn’t mind seeing more. Just sayin’. Regards, Doug
Go to Linked in and look me up. Here’s the latest: HUSSONGS CANTINA
By James Strauss
The place was down, its wood floor sawdust,
A shack called Hussongs where nobody cared.
I wasn’t looking for diamonds and rust,
Or a woman’s life to finally share.
No, I was plunged into iniquities den,
My mind barely held against deepest despair.
The time I had left no if but a when,
Bound for the end not some kindly repair.
I’d come all the way for only a game ,
The man I’m too meet known not at all.
Players I hung with knew him the same,
We’d play for our lives or nothing at all.
Hussongs cantina that terrible night,
Kings, pawns and rooks to no one’s delight.
I won the game to no one’s surprise.
His disappointment however my only prize.
I left to his call that it’s only a game,
Which for years I saw as the very same.
But as I got old and nothing was won,
I knew the game was all of my sun.
Hussongs Cantina, filled with great beer
Hussongs Cantina, dancing with cheer,
Hussongs Cantina, not known for its chess,
Hussongs Cantina, where I played my best.
And thank you for wanting to read more.
Semper fi,
Jim
Since you evidence interest in my poetry, for which I won a big contest so many decades ago, but only in France,
I wrote this just now for you, for fun, and a poets perceptions of most things unknown.
THE ODDS AND ENDS
By James Strauss
(written for Danko)
Beat for the contretemps,
Make it your quarry,
For living good sense,
Is for the bored and the sorry.
Play to the stands,
Your bat’s only good,
For hitting at fans,
Cause time is like wood.
We’re sailing in weather,
Our lives all a mess,
And we’re lying together,
We never confess.
Smile at the glory,
Of being a part,
Not having to worry,
The play’s at a start.
Move with great vigor,
Leaving behind,
Those things that are sad,
Those things left unkind.
Smile at your fortune,
Here with some friends,
Who give you a portion,
Of life’s odds and ends.
Jim, For now, all I can say is thank you for the poem. More later. Regards, Danko
It was my pleasure to be so motivated Doug!
The thanks goes right back to you.
Semper fi,
Jim
/Users/jamesstrauss/Desktop/0-1.jpeg
God, but its good to see you back and at work on all of our behalf. We missed you! I missed you.
Much better work after all of your ‘suggestions’ are actualized. Thanks so much and welcome home!
Semper fi,
Jim
Doug, I found more of Jim’s Poetry on this page.
Some have audio.
https://jamesstrauss.com/poems/
Chuck, Thank you. I have some more reading/listening to do! Regards, Doug
It’s great to see that the site here can also be a site to write to other vets commenting on here!
Thanks for that.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim, And that goes back to my ‘finding’ you in the first place and your abilities of writing in different jenwas – cen … (Screw it.) in different topics – Sci fi, life, etc – that keeps me coming back for more. Without a doubt, I’m not alone in this respect. Regards, Doug
Thanks so much Doug. Send you as photo of Butch, just for the hell of it, taken back in the eighties I think, or quite possibly a bit earlier. Neat guy. Too bad he’s not still around to offer his point of view and witnessing.
Welcome back, in spades!
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
LT, the reference to a funeral car made me laugh out loud. A great comment by your wife. And speaking of wives she certainly laid it out exactly as it was at the time. She does have a nak for understanding situations with very little information. She should have been in the CIA. Great chapters all along and a thrill to read. You certainly as you put it “lay it out as best as you can” which makes the story so interesting.
Didn’t know about your VA appointment nor should i, not my business. Wishing you the best there.
Happy New Year to you and family as we march off into the unknown once again.
Thanks JT, and my heart is backing to ticking the way it was supposed to before they found the PVC things. Now I have a new medication that stops
those with no ill effects. Of course, I had no symptoms before, but what the hell. My belief in most of America’s medical providers, particularly those
working without treating the patient as a profit center, is pretty strong. Thanks for the many compliments written in your great comment too.
Semper fi,
Jim
James I just completed a battery of heart tests last week after a stress test showed an anomaly, whatever that means. Hopefully you will get the same results I did. No further procedures at this time. I’ll be praying and hoping for a good outcome! I’m hoping you find a way to test that box. I doubt it’s a “gift”. Great writing as usual my friend! Semper Fi!
The use of the word ‘gift’ in the story was euphemistic, of course. Thanks for the comment and the part about your own health
as well. I think I am and will be find, after fine tuning, of course. The VA is a most excellent care system, especially for us
older vets. Thanks, as usual.
Your friend, and semper fi, Jim
Probably the most intriguing chapter! The Valley was War, as complicated as it can get tactically, but pretty blatant. But the Nixon Whitehouse mixed with 70s SoCal was explosive also. Guess with the sudden Admin change you were chosen and the neutral corner for items they wanted control of…and after the Tapes they made sure to document custody. And the CIA baptism seemed to solidify the Control….Pure Macivillie & Kissinger!
Thank you, Colonel for the usual great penetrating comment and the compliment, as well.
Your conclusions are also spot on. Thanks so much, my friend,
Semper fi,
Jim
Again you leave us hanging, but some how complete. If this sounds confusing , so has you life been to that date. Sounds like you have found a way home, and forward. Semper Fi Sir, and Happy New Year, on to 2024!!
thanks so much Bob as this new year begins…with friends and associates on here I never expected but have
come to treasure. Like you.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim I believe this is the most insightful chapter I can remember iț is rich in depth and just makes me love you more. Happy new year and Semper Fi. Batman
Thomas “Batman” Thorkelson. One of the men who was part of the adventure back there I was also a part of. A man of honor, high intellect, and endeavoring curiosity and care. High compliments from me and I much appreciate, and hope you do, his writings were they appear on here. Notice he never ever embellishes upon the importance he was in the development of the story and myself. Thanks Tom, I always smile, even before reading what you’ve taken the time and care to write.
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
Happy New Year and long life.
Thanks for the kind wishes Chris. I go in for the heart tests this morning
although not with much trepidation. Nice to read such great words on here as I leave.
Semper fi,
Jim
Well, LT, God did answer your prayer, although He did it in His time.
You’ve certainly not lived an ordinary life like most people have.
I’m in the same boat, although mine has not been quite as illuminated by upper-level stuff as yours. And mine was always powered by curiosity. Many times I learned new things, with only an occasional miss along the way.
But always moving, finding new places to live in the new places I was seeking inward answers. I’m 79, and I think 73 different places to call home. Don’t know if I’ve got it in me now to make a 74th place or not, although the urge is there.
Thank you for your kind words about this coming “procedure” Friday. And why they call a surgical operation a “procedure” is beyond me. Call it “cutting your neck open from the front to plate the soup bones in the back”! I did enter your number into my phone – but there is no family or friends, just me. And since all the Agencies close on weekends, AMA I will probably drive myself the 25 miles home. Been driving 64 years, not going to stop now.
I think a neighbor will feed my babies (2 cats, 2 dogs) while I’m gone, but he hasn’t committed yet. If necessary, I’ll leave plenty of dry food out, and the back slider open for potty runs. And did you know a 1-year old Siberian Husky can make a huge mess in the few seconds your back is turned?
Take care my friend – Semper Fi!
Wish I was there to take care of your charges. Those creatures are invaluable to your recovery and health on into the future,
as I am certain you are aware. I> wish I was closer, although I have two days of heart tests starting this morning at the VA
myself. Boring but hopefully, like your own coming ‘procedure’ not life threatening.
God bless you my friend and may He make His face to shine down upon you.
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
James,
Another chapter full of goodies.
You got some heavy stuff going on here in this chapter–inner, relationship things. You and your dear wife Mary. You and Gularte. What is shared are the kinds of thing that is shared between people who know and care about each other.
BTW, your Mary should truly get a medal for having to deal tangentially with everything you dealt and wrestled with. That woman is the greatest ‘gift’ God has given you.
I would be worried that the ‘artifact’ might be booby trapped to harm you, considering who is giving it to you–and especially if he somehow found out you were behind the sinking of the Porche in the first place.
We readers are antsy about what is on the other virgin tapes, what weird thing is in “the box”. We are like kids eyeing unopened Christmas presents under the tree and knowing we have. to. wait.
What follows below is my best shot at pretending to be the unequaled Dan C. in offering editing tips:
“I’ve known almost all of this stuff as it been happening but have said little or nothing. [needs a ” after nothing]
“My wife, sitting at the kitchen counter, answered, but picking up the receiver.” [but only picked up the receiver?]
“What was going on with the White House scandal, the President bei9ng in deep trouble,” [should be “being”]
“And I personally think that He was entertained by your first denial of Him so brought you along” [so He brought you along?]
“What was he meaning of everything I was doing. ”
he should be the?
Plus change the period to a ? at end of sentence]
Can’t wait to be there when you open [Pandora’s] box!
THE WALTER DUKE! Standing in for DanC while he’s away. Thanks so much for the editing help. Chuck will be all over that
when he gets home which should be when I get out of the hospital following my two days of heart flow testing.
I’m symptom free but my EKG is messy! Oh well…I will continue on in the Marine Corps way…that means complaining a lot.
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
Happy new year Jim and prayers for your tests.
Thanks Anne, and thanks so very much for the sincere prayers so that this latest incident will be very passing and not
otherwise eventful in my, and our, lives.
Semper fi,
Jim
From a deep Mistry to an involved Christmas , family slot. The danger only increases to max. What will the unknown extreme danger bring to you and family ! My nerves are tight with pain ??
Thanks for the compliment of your writing here and what you had to say.
Much appreciated and Happy New Year!
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim, you clearly have found a “flow” in your writing. It’s not just that the chapters are coming more frequently, but I no longer have to reread the previous chapter in order to start right in on the latest. They’re flowing together.
Small point; as I may have mentioned, I was a Soviet Comint (Communications Intelligence) analyst at NSA during this exact time in your life. You mentioned: “There was no Eyes Only…” There most definitely was. It was a formal classification. “Eyes Only” meant that only the recipient could open or see the contents. Obviously, it could be delivered by someone else, but that person was not permitted to know the contents.
There is another classification not generally known by the public, called “NoForn”, meaning “no Foreign person”, only native-born American citizens could be allowed to see the contents. This sometimes led to humorous situations. The gentleman at the desk next to me was a member of GCHQ, or General Communications HeadQuarters, the UK equivalent of NSA. The relationship between NSA and GCHQ is exceptionally strong. When I would have something labeled “NoForn” for the guy sitting on the other side of his desk, I’d hand it to him and tell him: “It’s for Bill, and it’s NoForn.” He’d reach out one hand, take the packet, cover his eyes with his other hand, and pass it over to Bill at the next desk. What a hoot!
Some background on security classifications: The “normal” levels were Confidential, Secret, and Top Secret. These are all pretty routine. Then came Cryptographic, then Special Intelligence, (SI), then SI-Codeword. These classifications applied to the entire US intel community. The significance of anything classified as Special Intelligence was that whatever methodology or capability was used in gathering that information must also be kept secret. We can never allow the enemy to know how we got that info, or else they’d either plug the leak, or, worse, use it to plant false information. While everything is always on a “need to know” basis, beyond SI-Codeword everything becomes highly compartmentalized. I was TS-Crypto-SI-Codeword. After leaving the service, I was forbidden from leaving CONUS for one year, and forbidden from traveling to any communist or communist-leaning country for ten years. Time enough for anything I knew to become “stale”.
Carry on, Lieutenant! Your story continues to get more and more compelling!
Clay
The classification system, the classification themselves and the very nature and standing (not to mention rank) of those handling the material
has changed substantially. That’s pretty evident as all of us in the public come to see how the classified material was handled at Mar A Lago and other
places along the way. Could never have happened in my time back then, but sure as hell happens today. Thanks for the very imformative material in writing
all about it here. It all helps me and the readers understand even more.
Semper fi,
Jim
There are so many loose ends floating about like leaves in a mountain stream. Every week, I think there will be some answers about who killed JFK or where did the money come from that was going to be placed off shore. What really happened to those Marines and what about the UFO’s that are only now being acknowledged? I worry now about that box in your garage. are you not going to check it for radioactivity? I want to read your book to the end tonight!
Thank you by the way for such a magnificent story. Your writing is masterful, I am always surprised when anyone offers a lot of corrections. I have seen a couple of typos but I have never had trouble following the story nor have I been troubled by misplaced words. I wonder how long I must wait to buy the books.
Cannot thank you enough for the great compliment of what you just wrote.
Any author would love to hear it but me in particular because its writing that is so close
to my heart and the reality of a strange time in my history.
Not that my history hasn’t been strange all along!
Semper fi ad Happy New Year.
Jim
I’ve had young folks express some envy of us that lived through Vietnam and the following years. Like we were all some kind of weird mix of hippie-killers, redeemed by Timothy Leary and the Beatles to pleasantly live out our years. At times, I’ve tried to explain why I think they’re hopelessly naive, at best; or just walk away. Now I’m gonna tell ’em to buy a copy of “Thirty Days’ series and look for ‘The Cowardly Lion”.
Good job, Jim. I’m always looking for the next chapter.
I thought of Rittenhouse, from the period of combat as written about in 30 Days, the other day. I needed to attempt to understand some of the analytical writing I was being given at the hospital and expected to understand, and then sign that I understood. I thought about how that kid would have swept over those papers in an instant and had it all down. The nurse, or functionary, I was in front of caught my nearly inaudible giggle. “What’s so funny,” she asked, frowning. “I’ve got to get this in front of Rittenhouse to understand it all,” I replied, giving her no explanation or context for anything. “You mean the guy who shot those people a while ago?” she replied, her curiosity piqued. I thought for a few seconds, my smile disappearing before I answered. “Sort of…” was all I could think of to reply. Thanks for the huge compliment of wanting to refer my work to others as part of a symbol of what those of us who returned might have resulted in today, as the different creatures we became and remain. Much appreciate that.
Semper fi,
Jim
Well, not “Miracle on 34th Street”, but a great Christmas story none the less. In addition, the artifact was no gift from the Magi. No comparison between them and the weasels at the compound.
Once again, thank you for the wonderful narrtive. Glad that you have hit your stride creatively. I look forward to more chap;ters.
Tim
I love the Miracle on 34th Street comparison, no matter how badly I fared in the analysis! Thanks for the compliment, as well
and Happy New Year.
Semper fi,
Jim
your off when you came back. And I’ve known almost all of this stuff as it been happening but have said little or nothing.
* you off * as It’s
They’re sending one of those funereal
*funeral
What I said was truen but the way I said it and when I said
*true
Happy new year
Thanks for the editing help here Don, as DanC is away now for a couple of weeks.
Chuck comes back from his swing down through Texas for the holidays so he’ll be on it.
I have to go in tomorrow morning because they don’t like this little PVC thing, although I feel great.
I’ve learned to pay attention to those guys and gals though.
Semper fi,
Jim
Bravo,,,Cudos! I never saw that plot twist coming, “CL” ending in a Christmas Story
Well, I guess I never saw it coming either as I continued the recitation as best as I can
recall it. Thanks for the nice compliment and Happy New Year.
Semper fi,
Jim
Wow, lots going on here. A new “job” offer you have no choice but to accept, one more tape to go & you are now in possession of an artifact that defies our understanding of the laws of physics, (Expletive).
Good luck with your health. I too have heart problems & went thru testing & exams last week. Happy New years to you & your family & keep them coming. Eager to learn the contents of that box.
Thanks Phil. Mentioning the heart stuff…so many guys our age, or so, on here have similar issues. I hope that most are
as passing and minor as my own (apparently minor as of right now). The artifact does indeed become something to consider and
behold, especially in light of all that’s been released about our continuing study of such things.
Semper fi, and thanks for being there and commenting.
Jim