The morning came too soon, although ‘sleeping in’ like I’d loved to do when not at one of my jobs in college, had gone the way of the dinosaurs, lost somewhere down at the bottom of the A Shau Valley. That the valley’s name was known by no one, so never brought up by me anywhere at any time except with Gularte, was beside the point. My eyes popped open at six or a bit earlier every day, rain or shine, dark or light but that was only if I’d slept at all during the night. Amazingly, the Christmas presents from the Western White House had played so wildly, through my mental process as I’d lain with my wife on the night before, that I’d escaped the necessity to check the flank security I didn’t have but had to usually get up and check anyway.
Galloways called me from a block away, not on the phone but through the ether between us. Lorraine made better coffee than either Mary or I, even though we had purchased a coffee maker at some considerable expense for us. Three days to Christmas but only two to the Eve. The tree was up and I was still hard put to get gifts that had real meaning for my wife and daughter. I’d found a Winnie the Pooh doll at Coronets, although it was twenty dollars which seemed way out of the ball part but would have to do. My wife was getting high heels, lingerie, and a swimsuit I’d picked out for her in Laguna Beach. When I’d told Gularte about the gifts, he’d laughed for quite some time.
“You can’t replace Beasley, so you use a stand-in and then buy stuff for your wife that’s really for you. Before you know it you’ll have two kids, or more.”
I was hurt, although upon reflection I knew he was right.
“Julie’s not the real doll type, although Winnie the Pooh is a great choice,” he said, musing more to himself than me. “Get something hardcore, which is more like her to offset the gushy stuff.
“Like what?” I asked, baffled, as although Julie was a tough little character, I didn’t see her as hard about much of anything except disciplining me and making sure I had some order in my life.
“A rocket,” Gularte replied. “I’ll pick it up for her and get it to you before Christmas. She’ll love it.”
We’d gone off shift without my being able to get answers about what kind of rocket, or how big a rocket, or anything else. Maybe the doll was going to be it.
I dressed in my rumpled shorts and Marine Corps “T” shirt and left the house before anyone else was up. I parked right in front of Galloways in the Volks, not caring if anyone knew I was there. There were no other vehicles parked on Del Mar, but that wasn’t unusual at any time before seven a.m. Galloways was closed, as usual, but the door was unlocked, as usual. I went in and took my normal spot at the front table, only my Volks to stare out at. Lorraine got my coffee without saying a word, not even ‘Good morning.’ It was early, and I knew she and Tom were having difficulties between them, so I didn’t try to make conversation, just sipping my coffee and thinking hard about the artifact. The final tape might be revealing, just as the others had been, but neither what was on it, nor what had been on the others was in any way life-changing for me. The artifact was in another world from those. I smiled at my own humor when Mike Manning stepped through the door.’
We spoke some morning pleasantries before he asked an unexpected question.
“What’s on your mind, and don’t bother to deny it,” he said, “You don’t have that sort of face. Don’t ever try to become a spy, as you wear all your secrets on your sleeve.”
I looked at my short little sleeves, first the right and then the left one. Mike could have no possible way of knowing that I was being offered a position of some sort with the world’s premier spy organization, so I merely smiled and sipped some more coffee.
“Joe Beard, from the base,” I said, not giving him a real reply at all but asking a question that seemed like it was a complete change of subject although it wasn’t.
“He’s been in here,” Mike replied, mildly surprising me. I hadn’t been in Galloways at any time that Joe had been there.
“I don’t know if he’s out on that early release program or not. He’s a nuclear physicist who was never able to work as one while in the Corps, at least not so far.”
I stared over at my friend. I was up to my chin in nuclear, although I wasn’t at all sure how or why or how far into, I really might be. Admiral Rickover was at the Western White House I suspected and the incident at San Onofre probably hadn’t died down, but that wasn’t why I’d asked after Joe Beard. Joe had worked with me at the First Civil Affairs Group, the idiotic outfit I’d been transferred into as my last official active-duty post before the Western White House…and then on into the Marine Corps nether land I was currently a part of. I sighed. Winnie the Pooh, the made-up character and now toy doll was more real than I was becoming.
“What do you want with Beard?” Mike asked, accepting his tea from Lorraine who said ‘good morning’ to him before heading back into the kitchen behind the counter.
I wondered if I owed her money for one of my life insurance clients I hadn’t come through on but I wasn’t at all certain. Trying to prioritize seemingly mundane tasks like what Lorraine might want or need had been pushed to the back burners of my mind by the overwhelming stuff I’d uncovered or avalanched right on up and over my life. Lorrain, Mike Manning, Gularte, Tom Thorkelson, Chuck Bartok, and now many more were, however, the backbone of my social, and quite possibly physical, survival and I didn’t need Paul’s conclusions about such things to know that.
I got up and went to the back of the restaurant without answering Mike’s pesky question. I wanted badly to talk to someone who was deep into the well of theoretical physics before I encountered what Mardian had so briefly described. Joe Beard was into what he called ‘state’s rights’ and hated the central government, including the Marine Corps. I presumed his hatred of the Corps was based upon the fact that he’d spent his three-year tour doing mundane clerical work…although at the very back of my mind the nuclear admiral lurked, along with three dead Marines, half a nuclear facility that was being used as an armored meeting place for somebody or something I had no real idea of, as well as now the potentially alien artifact.
“What do I owe you?” I asked Lorraine when she saw me and walked out to stand behind the county, her facial expression that of a minor pout.
“Coffee and teas on the house today,” she said.
My coffee was always on the house, so I didn’t know what to make of that. I looked around and waited. After a moment she spoke again.
“Five hundred,” she whispered, looking over to where Mike sat, making believe his full attention was concentrated out the window.
“What client?” I asked, afraid to let her know that I didn’t know, but more afraid that I’d lose her goodwill. Galloway’s Cafe was something of an anchor in my new life and there was no way I wanted to lose my welcome.
“No client, no police, since you aren’t doing your job lately,” she said, her face brightening as she talked. “I have three prospects for you but you’ve got to take the time to see them and you’ve missed appointments with two. They love me though so you’re still in. Got to make the car payment or lose the car and losing that car would kill Tom.”
My mind whirled. She wanted an advance, which was okay except I just didn’t have time. I had to find Joe, as the artifact was sitting in my garage and the garage door didn’t even have a lock on it. I had to see Richard and firm up the job offer, or at least make sure there was a job offer. I needed to know what was on the last tape and then act accordingly over that. Bob Elwell had called so I need to call him back and probably visit with him. Lorraine’s referrals were vital to me because I didn’t know for sure where any real money was going to come from when the White House job went down and quite possibly the police job with it. The twenty-two thousand dollar ‘sort of’ offer Richard had brought up had to be brought into focus, discussed, and then memorialized.
“When do you need it?” I asked, trying to act like there was no tension in my life whatsoever.
“They’re coming from Costa Mesa now,” Lorraine said, shrugging her shoulders. “I didn’t want to call you at home about something like this. Tom didn’t, and doesn’t want me to ask you at all but what are we supposed to do?”
“Okay,” I said, turning and walking back to the table. I didn’t sit down.
“You be here in fifteen minutes?” I asked Mike. “We’ll talk then if you still want to know some stuff. When’s your shop open?”
I knew when his shop opened. All the stores on Del Mar, for the most part, opened at ten a.m. but I knew it would take Mike about an hour to get ready to open, being the analytical clean freak character, he was.
“I’ll be here,” he said. I downed my remaining coffee in one big gulp, it had cooled considerably enough. My morning relaxation was at an end.
I tried not to run to the Volks, but I was time-crunched. If the repo truck showed up there’d be no stopping the repossession, and that would mean another five hundred or more to get the thing back. I wasn’t short of money unless the bottom fell out, but I kept catching glimpses of such a bottom everywhere I looked.
I drove home wondering how I’d managed to sleep through the night before so soundly. I’d discussed the sleeping problems I experienced since my return home. His conclusion had been as strange as some of his other stuff, although extremely logical once thought about. I slept best under the direst of experience, according to Paul. When I relaxed and everything was going fine then my attention was drawn almost fully to what terrorizing event or experience might be up ahead that I had to be ready for.
Accessing the cash stored in my shoeshine box wasn’t the time-absorbing problem I knew might ensue from getting it and then returning to the restaurant and handing it off to Lorraine. As I suspected before I left to get it there was one big impediment, standing all of five feet tall. My wife could not be ignored, even though I gave it my best shot, only to end up sitting on the end of our bed explaining what I was about to do.
“Let’s get this straight,” she said, walking slowly back and forth in front of me, still wearing her bathrobe, while Julie rode her electric cycle downstairs around the living and dining areas of the big apartment.
“More money advance to Lorraine at Galloway’s,” she said. “That’s on top of the advances you’ve already given her, and that you don’t keep any kind of formal track of. That’s with us about to live without your governmental pay, quite possibly your police pay, and only on your life insurance sales which seem large but don’t pay all that much until the policies you sell go through a rather extensive issuing process. Have I missed something?”
I just wanted to be somewhere else. I explained as best I could, willing myself not to look at my watch or out the upstairs windows to see if a tow truck was somewhere on Del Mar, the main street partially visible but not the area where the restaurant was located.
“I kind of need you to go with me on this right now,” I said, not knowing what to say that might defend what I was doing in time to get back to Galloway’s before the tow truck arrived. “I know things aren’t ideal at all, but the CIA’s offering me a position that will give us twenty-two thousand dollars up front and half the pay I’ve been getting from the Western White House thing.”
“And you were going to break that news to me when,” Mary said, stopping her pacing and pointing her right index finger at me.
“Just found out while I was over there,” I lied, getting up from the bed. Her expression had changed from one of attack to one of consideration. I knew I had her support but would the new information satisfy her in time?
I waited, laying back on my elbows on the rumpled blanket, making believe I had all the time in the world.
“Oh, just go, we’ll discuss this later. I presume you’ll be gone most of the day and God knows about the night.”
She didn’t wait for any more of my made-up stories, walking to the top of the stairs, looking back, and then heading down to join Julie, Mrs. Beasley, and Bozo if he was choosing to be present.
I jumped up, jammed the five hundred into my pocket, and followed her.
Once back at the restaurant, there being no tow truck in sight, I walked in through the door, where Mike still sat, waiting, as I’d asked him to. Lorraine met me and I furtively took the bills out and jammed them into her hand.
“You don’t know what this means to us,” she said, a tear forming in her eye.
I rushed over to Mike, all the emotion of the morning making me nervous and a bit skittery.
“I need Joe’s number if you have it,” I asked, noting that my coffee cup was full of steaming brew once more.
Lorraine must have spotted me parking and assumed that I was back with the money. I sipped the coffee, once more being impressed by the intuition of women, a talent I so vitally lacked.
“I’ll get it. He changes his home number every month, or so,” Mike said, rising to his feet. “It’s at the shop. Besides believing in little green men from Mars, and his paranoia, he’s a pretty bright entertaining guy. He’s the only customer I have for the Green Apple shampoo, I mean except for you, of course.”
I sat by myself and thought for the few moments I knew I’d have, absently thinking about how the two boxes of Green Apple shampoo sat not more than a foot or two from the special box holding the artifact. Both might be alien, as far as my wife would be concerned, if and when she learned of the artifact’s existence.
I thought about what I knew of the artifact from Mardian’s brief description. He’d been in such a hurry I hadn’t gotten that much. When we were together for that brief period he’d taken a few seconds to gather himself before beginning his description of the artifact.
“It’s spherical and about the size of a lemon or small orange, but near perfect in its circumference at every angle it’s observed from. The aluminum container is specially built to handle its odd behavior, and that’s why it’s so heavy. The object isn’t heavy at all, not in the sense that anyone might be able to explain it. Upon first examination, it would appear to be made of iron, although its ‘weight,’ if you will, is that of aluminum or a little less. The box is lined with thick iron to prevent the object’s penetration upon inertial movement. It’s an element. There are a hundred and five elements on the periodic table chart. This is not one of them. It’s impossible to try to describe how it might be comprised of something that doesn’t and likely can’t exist.” Mardian stopped as if he was done explaining the package I was about to assume possession of, if not control over.
“Yes,” I said, a bit shakily. “But what does it do or what is it that makes it not obey nature’s laws,” I asked.
“I think the statement made about it, that it doesn’t obey the laws of the universe as we know them to be is more accurate, but you’ll have to discover that for yourself. Nobody’s going to order you to do anything except hold onto it until later. If you show it to someone or demonstrate its oddity to anyone you will no doubt, at some point, be in potentially terminal trouble, so my advice is to not do that, ever.”
“Where did it come from?” I asked, going in a new direction, knowing I wasn’t going to have much more time with Mardian before I was on my own, with a potential nightmare ahead. I wanted to leave, not accept the artifact, but I also badly needed the job I was being offered and I knew down in my depths that the artifact was a full player in that situation.
“Mitchell, Apollo 14. He brought it back but almost didn’t make it because of that thing. The admiral, NASA, the CIA, nobody knows what it is, those that know of it, but Mitchell thinks it’s of intelligent alien origin, and that alone is scaring everyone to death.”
Mardian had left it at that, and I hadn’t pursued my question further. Whatever the artifact was or how it acted was going to be up to me to find out.
I pulled out the note he’d shoved over to me just as he departed and read the few lines.
“The Count of Monte Cristo and the code. Your edition,” it said, followed by “The page will always be one of your ten codes from the beach patrol.”
I put the paper back in my pocket and not in my wallet. Since coming home my wife searched my wallet every day, looking for clues to what I didn’t know. What was she hoping to find, I always wondered, but I never brought her searches up and she never revealed she performed them.
The ten codes from the beach patrol. Mardian knew so little of California Peace Officer procedure that he was probably unaware that the ‘ten codes,’ as they were called, were part of a statewide system of radio communications, there to keep criminals from figuring out police talk they picked up on radio receiving scanners. The solution to getting me the proper page in the book, should I need to either decrypt or encrypt such messages, which I hoped I’d never receive or have to send myself, was brilliant. I pictured in my mind getting a message that was a couple of paragraphs of letter gibberish and then some reference to a burglary. That would take me immediately to page number 459. Who would ever figure that one out even though the use of encryption would be obvious from the mere fact that there was such a construct of unending unconnected letters sitting in front of a suspecting individual?
I needed Joe Beard to talk to me before I opened the case and examined the object. I needed some frame of reference since it was becoming rather obvious that any encounter with the object was so disturbing that not even the most educated and weathered leaders wanted anything to do with it. I wanted to be ready for anything, although my curiosity and my building some self-defense perimeter for my internal belief system would not lead me to present the object to Joe. No, I intrinsically understood that Mardian was right. Conjecture with Joe, about something I might have overheard at the Western White House was a long way from either admitting I had the artifact or that if I did I might be willing to share either its location or allow for a personal viewing or handling of it.
Mike came back, holding out one of his “Iniquities” store receipts.
“Enjoy,” he said, before leaving again. “He’s an interesting guy but you may want to visit him wearing a tin foil hat.”
“Funny,” I murmured, before heading out to my car and driving to Gularte’s apartment.
I passed the tow truck, which was headed down Del Mar toward the Galloways. I’d been just in time. I pumped my right fist before shifting into third gear and yelled “Yes” out the open window. It was before ten in the morning, two days before Christmas, and I’d already done my redemptive deed for the day. Paul was right. I was a good guy.
As I drove, I thought a bit more about the incident. Paul never commented on the fact that if you pulled off the redemptive act very early in the day you might have the rest of the day left to do something that might call for another redemptive act.
The key to Gularte’s place was under a dirty black mat, which was just outside of his dirty black door to the place. But I never used the key and wasn’t even sure it was there. Gularte never locked the place. His post-combat paranoia was of a different kind than mine. He claimed that he was ready and waiting for some burglar or worse, that he needed to feel again the massive amounts of adrenalin he’d experienced in combat. When I entered his place I did so gingerly, not wanting to be an accidental result of his need for intense emotion.
“Beard,” was all that came out of the phone after it rang on the other end for the fifth time.
“Remember me, amigo?” I asked.
“We built that MG together, right?” he replied, referring to his 1952 MG TD, which both of us had rebuilt in my garage over a few months when I was newly stationed in Pendleton.
“I need a moment of your time,” I said.
“Always,” Beard replied. “Concerning what?”
“Some advice on nuclear science, in that area,” I replied.
There was a long pause. I said nothing and neither did Joe. Finally, he spoke, but the tone of his voice changed completely from what it’d been.
“You work for the people in government over there,” he said, his voice tight and no longer friendly. “I have nothing to do with San Onofre, what’s going on there or that Rickover creep, period.”
I sat shocked on the other end of the phone. Neither San Onofre nor Hyman Rickover hadn’t and shouldn’t have come up, not if Joe was out of the Marine Corps or had simply been working as a clerk in something unrelated to his Ph.D. in nuclear science. The lack of sense in what he’d been doing only now began to make sense to me. That I’d not picked up the ridiculousness of such a Marine officer’s misuse of such refined education only now impacted upon me.
“I thought you might talk to me about an alien relic I found out about,” I replied, figuring that Joe was a dead end, and also that he was a part of whatever was going on at that nuclear plant.
“Alien?” he whispered into the phone.
I wondered how far to go in trying to draw him out but didn’t get a chance to go on.
“Where are you?” He asked, his tone no longer negative or guarded.
I gave him Gularte’s address. I didn’t want to meet him at my place or the restaurant, as we needed to have no one around.
“I’ll be there in one hour exactly,” Joe said, hanging up before I could agree or disagree with the time.
I sat at Gularte’s kitchen table, holding the phone, wondering if I’d made a mistake in bringing Joe aboard, even in a passing way.
There was one thing to be done before meeting Joe, and the rest of my day could wait. I drove home and parked in the driveway, but I didn’t go up to the apartment. I went into the garage. The box sat exactly where it’d been left, apparently undisturbed. I moved close and examined the exterior for marks of any kind. There were none, which seemed strange. I went to my work table and got a cold chisel and a hammer. I put the chisel on the top of the riveted-together surface of the box and hit the flat end with a hammer, holding the chisel at an angle. The chisel slid away, leaving no mark. I backed off. The box wasn’t made of iron or even steel. There would have been some mark from the scoring of the hardened steel ends of the chisel passing over it.
“No wonder you’re riveted together,” I murmured to the box. “Probably had one hell of a time drilling the holes.”
Without further ado, I twisted the dial the prescribed number of times and then pushed the center button. The box clicked but did nothing more. I eased the heavy top up and looked inside. The light in my garage wasn’t that great but I could see the artifact that had caused so much concern and even fear.
The box was filled with some sort of straw-like material which I didn’t remove. I merely prodded and pushed the stuff aside until the object was revealed.
It looked like a metallic golf ball, only a bit larger and without a golf ball’s little holes all over. It looked harmless and not much worth considering unless someone was possessed of the kind of verified information that I had.
I pushed the packing stuff back over the ball and closed the box. Further examination would be in order, but not until after I talked to Joe Beard, and now that I’d figured out he was somehow involved, that talk had to be conducted with great delicacy and a bit of fear. I had a lot on the line, for both myself and my family and I didn’t want to screw anything up because of my having ‘loose lips.’
Although an hour hadn’t passed, a Camaro SS was sitting not far from Gularte’s front door, but there was nobody in it. I walked up to the door, opened it, and stepped in.
James, Very few suggestions from me this time. I wish I could learn the backstory on how Mitchell acquired the artifact; but that may still be ‘closely held’ information.
Some minor editing suggestions follow:
it was twenty dollars which seemed way out of the ball part
“park” instead of “part”
it was twenty dollars which seemed way out of the ball park
she saw me and walked out to stand behind the county
“counter” instead of “country”
she saw me and walked out to stand behind the counter
paranoia was of a different kind than mine
“different from” is preferable to “different than”
paranoia was of a different kind from mine
The box wasn’t made of iron or even steel.
Earlier Mardian said the box was made of aluminum
“The aluminum container is specially built”
/so the entire bit about the chisel doesn’t fit if the outside of the box is aluminum. Else change the earlier aluminum reference./
without a golf ball’s little holes all over
“dimples” instead of “little holes”
without a golf ball’s dimples all over
Blessings & Be Well
Thanks a great deal, for the edit and for your wonderful return. You were definitely missed bu all of us, particularly me.
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
Hey Lt! Awesome writing as always. I am not a golfer but I think those “holes” on the surface of the ball are referred to as “dimples” LOL! Carry on!
Damn…I kind of revealed that I’ve only ever been a miniature golfer, but still should have remembered what the indentations were and remain called.
Thanks for the compliment and putting it up on here.
Semper fi,
Jim
As far as being an alien object goes, why not? I believe in UFOs. Something I wouldn’t have admitted until about 30 years ago. My wife and I were sitting drinking coffee next to an outside fire when she asked me what were the three lights she was looking at moving across the sky. Since we lived near a Military Practice Area, I thought probably a jet formation. Then in less than a blink they went from a triangle formation to on line, stopped in mid-air, then a fading flash as they disappeared upward.
I know, long explanation. But if aliens are real, why not their objects. Hope to see more about yours, coming up soon. Thanks for the story.
Thanks Rick! This is a very sensitive area, since so many people bought the psyops program the government fielded to make
sure that anyone who even discussed the UFO phenomenon were ostracized from social contact. That’s not totally true anymore
but its still partially true. Nobody will confront someone with experiences in this area but they sure as hell may avoid them
and that’s a price that’s charged. Thanks for the great comment and support.
Semper fi,
Jim
Wow, I have always looked with great skepticism on any discussion of aliens & alien related conspiracies. This golf ball has turned that upside down & there is still a tape to go.
Phil, my own skepticism persisted, mostly because I always thought, and still partially think, that although the artifact proves and has proven to be of alien construct, it has been impossible to date it (so far as I know, but a lot o years have gone by of advancing technology) and therefore be able to say for certain that alien intellect and technology are with us today in the surrounding area of our solar system. I have never met an alien and have nobody in my life who could truly attest to any such contact. All I know for certain, at the bottom of my rather leaky credibility well, is that stuff from other civilizations exists on the planet, not that currently existing beings do. As you read more of my work, such as Book One of Down in the Valley, you will run across other stuff. Thanks for the great compliment and your expressing yourself on here. There’s risk in that too!
Semper fi,
Jim
‘Oh what a tangled web we weave/When first we practice to deceive’
Scott got it right !
I am intriqued with the revelations abounding in the last two chapters !
How the depth of Gularte’s character escaped you while you were distracted with current events. How his evaluation of your relationship with God was so on point and creating a need for self examination. How Mary has the ability to watch and analyse your actions without comment or criticism and knows just when to provide an analysis. How Mitchell took a completely alternate track after his NASA mission from the world of physical science. And how JOE knew intuitively what you were getting connected with the moment you mentioned it… Tangled webs indeed!
Your adventures create moments of reflection for all of us. We wait wondering if we would have had the ability to act given the same situations. I really have been encouraged watching your spiritual relationship to mature for you, as it is the most personal relationship you can ever have. I know my dad would not enter a church after his WWII experiences,”how could a just God let things like that happen” . Then my mothers quiet relationship with her spirituality that never left her. In my dads later years he found peace with his spirituality and sent alot of donations to many organizations, I guess in pennance for his younger anger. He finally came to realize men have free will and it is rarely good! Mine is a work in progress, your writing helps tremendously!
There are apparantly many lives changed by this “artifact”. Have ours?
Our governments routinely lie to us and that is to be expected. I know much more is forthcoming but the ramifications go so much deeper, not unlike a certain laptop forgotten at a repair shop that has showcased both the deception and now probable criminal financial undertakings.
Seems the character of men rarely changes, a few are duty driven and strive toward the common good and there are those that act only in self interest. The bulk are blissfully unaware and flounder along in obscurity.
I surely hold you firmly in the duty driven catagory based on your personal motivations being for the common good, Mathew 5:9 comes to mind.
Wishing you the very best in this New Year!
Matthew 5-9 is all about trust. Trust in the Lord to risk not just being a peacemaker as we might define the word but a worker in making peace happen. That risk is inherent..and it is always risky truly serving what one might come to believe is the real meaning of that New Testament. The New Testament is a hard thing to truly comprehend and then follow.Thanks for your comments about extraterrestrial life. Thanks for your Dad’s data, in that I have never forgotten the Catholic Priest in Hawaii who stopped mid-way through my confession to tell me that he could no longer hear it, that I’d have to go directly to God. I eventually did. That young priest, who mightily pissed me off at the time, was right, as are so many things and people when time has allowed us the experience and that time for reflection. You write these comments like a master yourself and I am always amazed and sometimes stunned by the truth of what you write. Thanks for all the guys and gals that don’t write to say anything but they are there, reading you and me both, and hopefully gaining from the experience. God bless you, and I don’t use that phrase lightly, ever.
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
In the back of my mind is a picture from way back on the Ed Sullvan, show with a performer on stage with long sticks and spinning plates atop them, never to drop one while making it look impossible. Sure seems like you have even more spinning plates than ever before now with the artifact in hand. And one more tape to listen too which may help make some sense of things, or not !
Glad your tests went well James, keep on keeping on, can’t wait !!
Semper Fi
Thanks for the great compliment and that Ed Sullivan anecdotal story. I hope all this makes sense,
at least one day in the future if not in the very next chapter.
Semper fi,
Jim
New people stranger than the others. Extreme secrecy is involved by all. Looks like things are getting out of had. Listen to that last tape quickly LT
Thanks for the compliment of wanting more faster Don. I am hard at it.
Semper fi,
Jim
Possibly your most complex chapter…trying to put some order into the transition! Crazy time! I think Marine Corps, SoCal, Western Whitehouse, PTSD, young family, Insurance Nixon, CIA, Artifact etc, etc
Interesting response from you Colonel, as usual. Yes, there was a helluva lot of stuff going on back then,
and my current life is a bit filled with some of that today! Thanks for the comment and compliment of your writing it on this site.
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
twenty dollars which seemed way out of the ball part but would have to do.
*ball park
It looked like a metallic golf ball, only a bit larger and without a golf ball’s little holes all over. It
*little holes, little dimples
Enjoy the New Year.
Thanks a lot for the help here, Don.
Semper fi,
Jim
Very happy your cardiac tests went well! Seems as we age all these appointments and tests lead to more appointments and tests! The story has more and more tentacles as we go deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole! Im amazed that you keep all these balls in the air as we weave our way through this fantastic story! Great stuff my friend! Thanks again for sharing your story and Semper Fi James!
Jack, definitely agree with you about the health stuff. In spite of all we hear when we are younger about the health problems brought on by aging, we don’t really seem to ‘get it’ until we are older and having those problems we barely grasped when younger. Thanks for the compliment and the writing on here, of course.
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
You know exactly how to keep us in suspense. My mind is in a jumble lining all this info up to an understandable sense. You had to be shaking in your boots that day with the flurry of events that had occurred in such a short time span, Whew!!! Keep it coming Lt, Semper fi sir
Bob, I had the A Shau behind me and my reflections and reactions to fear were different when I came home.
I was not braver but I was much more inured to the paralyzing effects of terror.
Stay busy, confront the enemy, retreat when possible…but never ever forget as you always forgive.
Thanks for the depth of your comment and the frequency with which you do.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim, I’m sorry that it seems to have taken your time in the A Shau to make you “much more inured to the paralyzing effects of terror.” I think most folks could use some level of this skill – a skill I can see some benefits to individuals & society as a whole. I can see where you have used this skill thru the current time line, as if it is becoming more of an added ‘innate’ part of you. Additionally, I get the feeling that this skill kept you in good stead throughout your future positions, up to the current day. But the price –. Pros & Cons I think. Regards, Doug
Pretty soon I will have to title you “THE DOUG DANKO,” if you keep on writing on here with this kind of frequency.
I found an old picture of Butch that I thought I’d send, taken some time back in the eighties I think. Just a part of the story. Wish he was still around to comment on what I’ve had to say about him, because he would never have anything to do with me or anyone else complimenting him. Just the way he was. Reminds me of someone. Thanks for what your write and the frequency of it. Not everyone does, especially as we ease into more controversial subjects nobody much talks about. NYTimes just ran a story yesterday about the latest government meeting on the subject. Secret, of course, with the secrecy secret too. If it wasn’t a real thing they don’t realize then there would be no need for secrecy…but they aren’t that bright, for the most part.
Semper fi, and thanks so much.
Jim
Jim, If you do “title” me, don’t use all Caps – It wastes ink. Reference the picture of Butch – SEND IT! Oh, I mean ‘Send it!’. Later, Doug
Doug, Here it the picture of Butch
Here’s the promised photo, finally. Chuck had to manipulate and send it.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim, Good picture of Butch. Thanks, Doug
Thanks for that great comment, as I am getting used to writing back to you. I get quite a few comments, although not nearly as
many as I used to get when 30 Days was an ongoing serial work, which is okay. Hundreds of comments a week can be right at the edge
of not being able to reply to simply because of time. I write extremely fast but still, life comes at me too and my time for
creative writing gets jammed into a corner now and then. Extensively deep and intellectual, as well as personally revealing more derives your work here than ‘tome.’ Just for the record. Thank you!!!!
Semper fi,
Jim
Thanks for that great comment, as I am getting used to writing back to you. I get quite a few comments, although not nearly as
many as I used to get when 30 Days was an ongoing serial work, which is okay. Hundreds of comments a week can be right at the edge
of not being able to reply to simply because of time. I write extremely fast but still, life comes at me too and my time for
creative writing gets jammed into a corner now and then. Extensively deep and intellectual, as well as personally revealing more derives your work here than ‘tome.’ Just for the record. Thank you!!!!
Semper fi,
Jim
P.S. I copied and pasted this comment to put it with the correct comment you made instead of the wrong one!
Jim, I think “controversial subjects” have been around since, well, forever & I think will be around for, well, forever. History repeats itself. “Oh, we’ll never do that again. Thousands, millions of people got sick/died/etc. Never again!”. That works for a while. Then ‘those people’ get old & die off. We forget. (Hell, sometimes/often we don’t even wait for them to get ‘old & die off’ before ‘we forget’.) And we do it again. History proves this out. Not sure humans can stop this cycle. But as long as we continue to try – That is good.
Some, more likely at lot of folks, in their hearts/soul, are well aware of “controversial subjects”, but do their best to put them aside – “They’re too big. I can’t save the world! What can I do? If I try, I & my family will be targeted.” Some, more likely at lot of folks, do small things, they do their best – That is good. (Off track here.) I think most folks who read just want to escape, be entertained for a while, etc. Even if just “eased into more controversial subjects nobody much talks about.”, their reaction is one of “No thanks. Not what I came for.”. Can be risky for an author/writer. Don’t stop. Just sayin’. Ref UFOs +,“If it wasn’t a real thing they don’t realize then there would be no need for secrecy …” — I don’t think govts believe they have any other choice. I mean, what if the US came out with “UFOs are real. Aliens from outside our solar system, galaxy, from a really deep cave beneath Cleveland, etc are real & have visited/are visiting the earth. Here’s the proof.” Effects?
Well, first off, 3 main religions (Christians, Muslims & Jews => About 55% of the world’s population.) would go nuts – “God created the earth & the heavens, all creatures, mankind! The Bible, Torah, and Quran – They don’t say n’uff about any Little Green Men. You want me to believe that God repeated Genesis in other solar systems? Galaxies? The universe? No f___’in way! We’re it baby. No matter what Star Trek says!” Any other effects would pale to the first one.
I imagine that folks in all the other religions would be like “Lucy, you’ve got some ‘splaining to do!” (Though, apparently Ricky never said that exact line in the show. Who knew?) Ummm – Sorry for another tome. Regards, Doug
No need to apologize, my friend, as I read all of your writing with great interest. Sometimes you make me
feel like I’m doing the writing work of Cicero or maybe the Bible, where you can simply open the book and then
conduct your day according to what vignette you might find on a page. Mentally ill people used to do that with
rock and roll lyrics played on the radio as they rode along in their cars, until understandable music lyrics disappeared
from the musical scene. Amazingly enough, and supposedly, that didn’t work to bad for them! Thanks for going into
the work as deeply as you do and then thinking and writing about it. No greater compliment to a writer, at least to
one of those popular but truly ‘unknown’ authors like me. The good news is that by not being famous I have the time
to be able to evaluate in depth the communications I get about my work and then comment in some detail myself. As I am
doing right now. Thanks does not really describe what I feel…but there it is…
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
Jim, After re-reading your reply to Bob, something else grabbed my attention – “never ever forget as you always forgive.” No tome, but – It reminded me of a certain prayer calling for the last half – “always forgive”. Led me to reread a section of a religious paperback from 1975 I got from my Mom. The reading led me to think about some other things/needed actions – Having nothing to do with your comment – Thanks for another of those ‘unintended consequences’ of your ‘writings’. Then again, maybe not so ‘unintended’. I’ve read other authors/writers who’ve included .. ‘things’ (No – I don’t remember who they were, but they too were good e’nuff for me to want to continue reading. And Yes – I’m sure there is a better word than ‘things’, but it escapes me right now. It will come to me later, like Thurs or Fri. Maybe not.) … who’ve included ‘things’, intentionally or not, that folks will read, their brain Hamster Wheel will stop, the Hamster will turn, crook his little head to one side, look them in the eye & say “Read it again dumbarse.”. They will & realize they should think on it a bit. Just sayin’. Though still wondering where your above “always forgive” came from. (Hmm – guess so much for my “No tome”. Regards, Doug
I would swear that I responded to this comment before but what the hell. I much enjoy the fact that you take the time, considerable thought and trouble to both read and comment on the writing.
Thank you.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim,
Getting one step closer to the long anticipated, the big ‘holy crap’ reveal. Will we read what it was in the NEXT chapter? Once we do, can we really comprehend?
Why must life have so many twists and turns that get in the way and keep us from our intended agenda and time schedule?
Will the Christmas presents you will give to your wife soothe her anger and compensate for your sins of omission regarding her?
With all that was going on back then in your life, I do not understand why you were not totally paranoid and constantly looking over your shoulder.
Thanks so much for having this chapter up.
I always look in anticipation for the birth of a new chapter, and the new adventure it may take me on.
For what it’s worth, in my efforts to (poorly) try to fill Dan C’s volunteer editing job, I do not recall seeing any misspellings or typos.
Wishing you and your wife a wonderful 2024.
THE WALTER DUKE. Note that nobody else gets those capitals, even though we’ve never met, nor are likely to. You always thank me for
my posts on here and I always find that surprising…and it also puts you in rare company. Redemption is required of me, just as Paul
so long ago determined in giving me a way to stay on the planet for everyone, including me and not just for my wife, daughter, cat and Mrs. Beasley.
It’s alway a pleasure to watch how you mind flows and eddies its way through a comment. You are your very own, but not really. You are all of ours
on here and its a pleasure to have you as more than a distant electronic friend.
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
This chapter made me focus on that object in the box. Could it be real? What we know about the government lying to the public makes me want to believe it is real. Again I am looking forward to the next chapter. Keep up the great work!
Oh, it was real all right Daniel…at the risk of losing all credibility.
But there it was, not a comfortable object to discuss or especially to possess.
Thanks for the compliment and writing about stuff on here.
Semper fi,
Jim
Interstellar golf ball?!
Fascinating-can’t wait for the next chapter.
Interstellar golf ball…I love that!
Thanks for the compliment and the originality.
Semper fi,
Jim
Just when I think the plot can’t get any more bizarre, or convoluted, you throw a left-hand spanner into the clock works! (And how’s that for mixed metaphors?)
Alien elements nestled in straw, Lorraine about to be re-po’d, Julie kind of ticked off, you wondering about the CIA job, life as an insurance agent, ad infinitum.
I do know through deduction, that all works out in the end. After all, you are still with us.
Came through the neck surgery last week in fair shape. Have to wear this cervical collar for 6 weeks, can hardly talk, and now will make airport scanners beep. But – alive and will recover.
Semper Fi, favorite author!
I, and others, have been waiting to hear. I am celebrating your continued existence on the planet, and I see from your writing that you apparently have not lost your ‘pluck.’ That’s great news. I am so happy that my writing has something to do with your recovery in the tiniest way. There’s a lot of reality in my work, although I’m not sure of how much many people find interesting. Thanks for the usual plethora of compliments and letting me know that you have made it through the toughest part of your ‘adventure.’ Thanks be to God.
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim