Los Alamos, New Mexico is about a three-hour drive down to Albuquerque. My wife and I, after a delivery meeting at the labs, had taken the potassium Iodide tablets Dr. Hans Bethe had instructed us to consume and were prepared to take the rest of the pills in the bottle as he described when we got home and during the days and nights of the week ahead.
The drive from Los Alamos to Santa Fe was conducted quickly and in silence. Mary wanted to shop in Santa Fe. She’d asked no questions after Hans Bethe conducted his tour of the physics facility and exotic program he was heading up. She’d taken the iodine pill without comment, which wasn’t like her. She also hadn’t been raised in Hawaii in a family where the father was heading out every few months to attend an atomic bomb test at Johnson Atoll. She had no clue. Her trust in me, and Hans Bethe, despite his wandering hand, sustained a belief system she held that I knew I’d never fully understand.
Herbert was right, not just for my family or even for the success of the mission in setting up an office of insurance operations in D.C. or a base and set of jet planes to provide supposed evaluation of Americans living abroad who needed to be transported home to receive credible and quality medical care. The more I thought about what I was creating the more astounded I became in thinking about the fact that it had all come to me automatically and without what I considered creative thought. I’d merely been just the right person in just the right place to come up with the plan, which made me wonder if some people knew me better than I knew myself.
Three days from the incident up at the labs my wife was getting out of the tub while I was coming out of the shower to dry off.
“Where were you laying out in the sun?” she asked, staring up and down at my naked body.
I looked at myself in the mirror and was surprised to see that I was sunburned. I twisted and turned to see what I could of every inch but it was all the same. I hadn’t been out in the sun at all. I stopped checking myself out and looked at Mary.
“You got the same amount of sun I did. Look at your skin.”
She climbed out of the tub and stood next to me. We stared at each other in the mirror.
“Alpha waves,” I whispered to myself more than to her. “We’re not sunburned at all or we’d be in pain. “We’re taking Bethe’s pills because we were both exposed to alpha waves from whatever was in the crate we hauled up to Los Alamos.
“Oh my God,” Mary said, taking and towel and rubbing her skin to see if she could get the red off. “What are alpha waves and what do they do?” she asked, after dropping the towel to the floor.
“The redness is from damage to the epidermis, the top layer, of our skin. The red is blood that escaped all over our bodies but didn’t break out of our skin, at least not so far. I’ll call Herbert and find out what the hell happened and what to do.” I said the words, but I was uneasy.
If Matt hadn’t been around when we’d gone up there, and with my misplaced trust at work, we might have had the kids with us for the trip. That thought was disturbing. I finished getting ready to go out, waiting for what I knew had to be coming. Mary’s anger was going to simmer and then blow sky-high, and I wanted to get out of the house and to the office before she blew. At first, it would be directed at me, I figured, putting my shoes on, but the worst might be directed toward the Agency itself, and I so hoped that her hatred and fear of the organization wouldn’t destroy my new career before it was even off the ground.
I made it to the Rover and almost down the driveway before the front door of the house opened and she stepped out, wearing only a robe and slippers. We looked at one another while the Rover idled. Three houses down at the curb one of the late model Chevrolets sat waiting, the FBI not attempting at all to hide the fact that they were following me. After a moment I put the vehicle in reverse and back out into the street and drove off. I knew your communication about what had happened was a long way from over.
The trip down to the office only took ten minutes. Montgomery was a straight shot to the Rio Grande River and the office was only two blocks to the north. I pulled into the lot. There were only two offices in the building, Banker’s Life of Iowa and CSI Aviation, an air charter company, run by a former Marine Bird Colonel named Allen Weh. The Chevy pulled in right behind me but headed for the back of the lot to join another of the ‘clone cars’ tailing me.
Weh came out the side door as I tried to enter.
“Who are those clones?” he asked.
Both Allen and I had fought in Vietnam during the same period, he flying and not getting hit so his duty period was the full thirteen months and nothing like my thirty days. We got along but not well. As far as he was concerned in one of our short discussions, he didn’t appreciate someone like me who got so many medals but ‘bailed out’ so early in my tour. There was no talking to the man, particularly since he moonlighted in the reserves working for the Defense Intelligence Agency.
“I have no idea, sir,” I replied, “I thought they were here to see you,” I lied, calling him sir because he’d found out rather quickly after meeting me that I was still a lieutenant in the Corps, although that identity was surface only, which is another part he couldn’t understand, much less accommodate. What was I doing in life, who was my commanding officer and why was I in an office next to his operation were questions that had been asked but with no answers forthcoming from me. Unless I was on active duty reporting to him then his authority ended right there at the opening to the office door.
“I’m sure likely to believe that” he replied, with a small snort, before turning to go back inside.
I went inside, wondering why it was almost always hard to deal with those who’d fought in the war. There was an inner rage and pompous attitude that was exhibited by most. Men like Colonel Weh.
The office was a beehive of activity, as two new agent prospects waited to be interviewed. I didn’t care about the interviews as I was going to hire them anyway. I needed quantity not quality, although I wanted at least college graduates. My salary was only two grand a month, which just about covered the home mortgage and the Rover and Mercedes payments. I was going to need money, and I wasn’t on a mission wherein I could take the Amex card and simply pull cash out of it. Before I’d discovered that I would look like a Native American for a while, I’d called Pat, the office secretary (she reported to Banker’s Life personally and not me, as she’d informed me about upon my meeting her), and told her to prepare some overnight packages. My new Blue Cross Blue Shield general manager and the head of the school in Seoul were about to purchase one-million-dollar life insurance policies. I’d have to talk to underwriting about the headmaster, as although as an American citizen, he could qualify to purchase the policy, he still had to medically qualify using medical underwriting tools and rules acceptable to the Banker’s Life decision-makers. The combined annual premiums would be about forty thousand dollars a year and my first-year commission would be about twenty, not to mention the ten thousand or so that would come to the office for additional expenses.
I closed my office door and called Herbert. Seconds later I was connected.
“Tell me about alpha waves,” I said.
“Nuclear stuff,” he replied.
“I delivered the package up to Los Alamos from Sandia Labs. The trip took about three hours. The package was about five feet from me for that period. Today I’m taking potassium iodide pills given to me by a physicist up there and my entire body is red as a beat. Exposure to alpha waves does exactly that. I no longer care what was in the package, not that you would tell me. If they wanted me to know I’d have been told that information before making the trip. What do I have to do.”
“Nothing,” Herbert said, his tone subdued and defensive. “Wait it out, as there’s no treatment. You’ll be tired for a while. If the exposure had been more serious, you’d know it by now.”
I wanted to vent to the man but knew it was useless. The Agency was compartmentalized. Herbert wouldn’t have any idea what was in the package, not that he would tell me if he did. Nobody was ever going to answer any question about why someone like me was sent with such a package in such an unprotected way.
“I’m installing Geiger counters in all my vehicles and if one alerts on any future driving lark of a mission then I’m stopping dead in the water wherever that might be.”
“What’s the word on my first mission and what kind of reports do I need to start keeping?” I asked, changing the subject.
“You haven’t been on your first mission yet,” Herbert replied, his voice recovering itself back into the gruff delivery I was used to.
“What in hell do you call Korea and then Los Alamos then?” I asked, shocked.
“Korea was a test and Los Alamos an accidental aside.”
“Test?” I breathed out, and then “accidental aside?”
“Yes, you’re not being processed through in a normal fashion, and I know that all sounds illogical and unsound. You won’t get your first mission until a minimum of training gets done, which was why I wanted you to get straight to that. What you started in Korea is rebounding everywhere, not that you are aware of it.
Offices are being remade, homes purchased, people hired, and more, all because of what you unexpectedly did. The planes, incidentally, can’t be Lears. They’re simply too short in range. It’s going to take a Gulfstream II to fly intercontinental at anything beyond three thousand miles. Those are expensive as hell, even on the used market, and the fuel maintenance and crews are up there in price too. When spending gets this big then big eyes want to see it.
“Well, okay, but did I pass the test?”
“You have to ask? Herbert said.
“Mountains are not moved for new field agents, or by them, so what’s going on is extraordinary, and that will be reflected on your assignments here on out, although what happened in Korea and the results will occupy for some time to come. It would appear that the Agency isn’t populated with very many agents who have an understanding of the insurance industry as you do, so this is all a shocked surprise to many people reviewing the results of your work, and mine, of course.”
I nearly laughed at his inclusion of himself in the process of what had happened and what was developing. He wasn’t standing or sitting on the other side of the line with my sunburn either. There was no risk to his part of the deal but there was plenty to go around when actually in the field.
“We need to get you to Washington D.C. as soon as we can. The card is hot so you can use mission rules in paying for what you need. Call me when you’re ready to go. You might want to go down for a day or two with your condition.”
“And who is this Allen Weh and why do we occupy the same building together?”
“He’s a righteous prick to some but a war hero to others, just like you.”
The phone went dead in my hand. I smiled to myself and put the receiver down into its cradle. What mission rules were there for using the Amex? I needed the training to find out just what my limits were as well as the benefits. I also found it humorous how the man could change the exposure to alpha waves into something more akin to athlete’s foot. My condition.
Pat opened the door and stepped in without knocking. I knew by her expressed attitude that I wasn’t going to be loved by her anytime soon. I said nothing, waiting for whatever was coming.
“Your interviews are still here.”
“Send them in,” I replied.
“Both together?” Pat replied. “That’s really uncommon.”
“Pat,” I began, breathing and out heavily to get control of myself. I wasn’t in the Marine Corps anymore, not a police officer. I was a Banker’s Life General Manager, and I needed to act like it.
“I’m an uncommon manager, it’s true, and I think that’s why they picked me. You have a bonus, new office space, and more. How long have you worked for the company?”
“Seventeen years,” she replied, seeming to retreat a little from her aggressively negative delivery.
“Then you’ve noticed how things have gone downhill for this agency. If I don’t save the agency, then it’s going to be closed and you don’t strike me as the kind of woman who wants to pick up and go to wherever in the U.S. they might have an opening for you.”
“No,” was all she said.
“Send in the two potentials and then think about throwing in with me, as you have everything to gain and not much to lose.”
She walked out without replying, leaving the door open.
I closed the door once more and called home. Mary picked up straight away but didn’t say anything.
“There’s nothing to be done for the sunburn,” I informed her. I talked to Herbert, and everyone is apologetic. I didn’t mention that you were with me, nor did I go into why I wasn’t informed about the possible dangers that might be involved.”
“No kidding,” she finally said, letting some of her anger out. “What about that fact that we were likely driving around with nuclear weapons stuff that some dangerous people might like to get hold of, and we have nothing, except those FBI idiots in their stupid Chevys.”
I hadn’t even given theft of the stuff a single thought, but she was correct. Why wasn’t fissionable or fissionable material transported by regular people with no security at all? The federal government was spending untold thousands watching me while something like what we were carrying should have far outweighed our importance. Despite her anger, the clarity of her thoughts and conclusions were spot on, just like always. Not for the first time I thought about the fact that she should be the secret agent, and I should be the one helping her along, instead of having it the other way around.
The two agents came in, Pat ushering them into the two available chairs in front of me. Both of the applicants were taller than I was, which seemed a bit odd. At five-nine, I was of average height but the two were both above six feet tall and one was woman.
I looked at the resumes Pat dropped onto the desk.
“He’s mostly all bark but no bite,” she said to the prospects before going to the door and closing it after she left. The woman had made a joke, which had to count for something.
“So, you two moved here from back east a few weeks ago and not looking for a job. Both have college degrees from great institutions. Both drive new cars.
Is there something you want to tell me or do we go on with this charade?”
I stared across the desk, from one to the other. They both looked at one another briefly, finally the young man nodding at the woman.
“I’m Kelly and this is Tom, and we need to train as insurance agents on the product you’re creating so we can help.”
“Somebody’s making decisions I know nothing about,” I mused into the thin air instead of talking directly to them. “Staffing for the future, as we head into the international market isn’t something I’ve given any time to but it’s vital. When this is all up and running you have to be able to hit the road, or air, already prepared. You’ve no doubt been to Charm School and more, so you know more than me, and I can sure use what you know before I get there myself.”
Pat will assign your offices and I’ll arrange the training.
“What can we do to help in the meantime?” Kelly asked.
“Be creative,” I murmured, sitting back in my chair and realizing that it was going to be good to have a staff and not just be running on my own.
The two new agents seemed bright as hell and they probably wouldn’t take time and energy for me to try to win over. The agency, I now understood, would be bifurcated, with real local agents and then with the agents cleared and sent in by the Agency to work abroad.
“Those FBI agents, do you need them removed from the property?” Tom asked.
“Good God, no,” I quickly answered. “They wouldn’t be there if they knew what was going on and that would give away the whole show.”
I looked at them both deeper. They were predators, I realized, and they were so good that I didn’t spot that in them until Tom gave it away. The FBI agents would have no chance if it came to violent contact, but violence wouldn’t be a part of the training nor, hopefully, the implementation of my plan.
A red light started blinking on the side of the phone and it buzzed once.
“That would be Pat,” Kelly said, as they rose to their feet in unison. Matt, in an aside aboard the plane, had mentioned something about how field people only came in two kinds. Team leaders like me and knuckle draggers to do the ‘wet’ work. I had just hired my first two knuckledraggers.
I picked up the phone and was about to say something before Pat spoke.
“A friend of yours named Herbie is on the line,” she said. The line clicked and Herbert’s voice came through.
“Okay, I hired my first agents, who have to be trained, but that’s okay.
“Washington D.C. is called. The man you are to see there is named John McCain, Navy Captain. He’s got some things to tell you.”
“The prisoner of war guy?” I asked, surprised. “I’m supposed to be getting the new office there off the ground and coming up with the medical policy we need to field to get started, not fooling around with high-ranking military guys.”
“When you get to D.C. go directly to the old building complex next to the White House and give them your real name. They’ll take care of the rest.”
“Did you hear a word I said?” I asked, in exasperation.
“The test is not over,” Herbert replied, once again hanging up.
Jim,
Bravo! First chapter in the new volume sure did not disappoint (other than coming a day later than I had gotten to expect).
Negative effects from alpha waves, wife about to go ballistic on you, Herbert still being a mute regarding actually providing you with all the essential details any reasonable person would assume they should get from their handler/boss… They apparently would give you orders to reach down a python’s throat to pull out an object it swallowed–without bothering to inform you that the object was an alligator that the snake swallowed tail first. And then the FBI tailing you–a CIA agent. The “agency” (without telling you) sending you “job applicants” to work insurance for you (were they being sent to work WITH you and FOR you, or were they being sent to keep TABS on you?), and a secretary who seems to NOT be a big fan of yours (yet?). Did you feel like a rat going through a maze in the dark? Will it be the REAL John McCain you will be meeting, or some other person who happens to have the same moniker as the famous one–like when you met Capt. James Kirk in a recent chapter? LOL.
I am enjoying riding along with you on your fascinating adventures. Thanks for the (long) ride. Keep ”em coming, Sir. Wishing you a blessed, glorious and trouble-free day.
THE WALTER DUKE. As usual, you do not disappoint, picking up on point after point. The chapter is written and ready to go up tomorrow so
You will see soon enough, especially about McCain, although it will not be the last time we have contact in the years coming.
Thanks for the great comment and the compliments you always give me.
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
?
Your question mark is interesting and mystifying, as usual.
Semper fi, my great friend.
Jim
OK let’s get this clear Alpha waves to me make this work science fiction and I don’t like science fiction but what a hell of a chapter it’s pretty easy to follow this story because everything is happening willy-nilly and you are very masterful at steering the ship frankly knowing you I’m somewhat surprised all kidding aside when we get together for the birthday ball I will tell you about how I met John McCain at WGN radio in Lori‘s office and about the exchange it will leave you laughing also there is one gap in this whole episode that I am missing how did you of all the Marines coming back from Vietnam get assigned to the western White House I’ve never understood how that happened but inquiring minds wanna know now is this Colonel Hayway anything like Colonel Homan those air Wingers tend to stick together
Well, its not science fiction and if you look up alpha waves you will see that if you exposed long enough from stuff that’s enriched enough then that’s exactly what the symptoms from such exposure create. It would not be the last time in my career, either. the agency often lied to us to get us to do stuff that was much more dangerous than they said, or maybe knew. I like forward to the ball and being with you guys and your wives…but that’s it as you know. You make the event what it is not the USMC.
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
Reckon it’s a good thing the red skin didn’t itch or Mary would’ve really given you the what for !!
Now with a real office and a new team at your disposal may make things run smoother ??
Good start on the next book James, keep ’em coming !!
Semper Fi
She was a lot more tolerant in those days!
Semper fi,
Jim
your life is moving too fast for my old brain to keep-up with
I’m either sorry or happy to hear that…given that my own brain housing group still operates at light speed.
Thanks for chiming in and writing something on here.
Semper fi,
Jim
Hey LT, old folks like me are sometimes technologically challenged so have finally found the place to comment, but nothing to say except barn burner of chapter one! Thanks very much!
Thanks for the encouragement Joe!
Semper fi,
Jim
Mr. Strauss, Sir,
First of all, Volume 5: WOO HOO !!!
Wow. Kelly and Tom – seems like a good thing that all they need to learn is the insurance business; not the ‘agency’ part; and I like the offer to remove the FBI agents from the property. And John McCain? I hope to learn from you that he was the top notch guy that I feel like he was said to be.
John McCain was a ‘top notch’ guy, not that he always did the top notch thing as I was to discover.
Thanks for the compliment and I never did find out exactly what Tom and Kelly were going to do to
move the FBI out of the parking lot..not that I really wanted to know. Thanks for the interesting and penetrating comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
I dont know I wasnt there but from what Ive read John McCain wasbt a top notch guy…Im sure youve heard it all as well.
Then again I dont believe evrything politicians and the news people say…most of em are paid off by someone else who dont givadam about nothing but the agenda they have setting in front of them.
Popeye
Top notch guy with terrific PTSD and not always doing top notch things. But then, I have my own portfolio of sins. Washington is a den of iniquity.
I would rather spend days and nights in some leather ten in Uulaan Bator then go to D.C. At least the natives won’t eat you there. Thanks for the great comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim,
Her trust in you, I believe, had something to do with how she was raised and for you, more importantly, her decision during your courtship regarding the kind of man you were as well as the kind of husband/partner and father you would be over the course of a life time. Ever ask her? I also believe that this “belief system” would become a constant throughout your life. Just sayin’.
Things came to you “automatically – without creative thought – right person – right place”. I’ve found that people who are really good at things in a certain subject/area/etc are blessed and through their continued ‘life’ education, intentional or unintentional (Through teachers/mentors.) build on their initial wiring, whether it be in science, business, research, sports, etc. For me, in sports, I was already pretty good, heading down a path to becoming really good. Things on the field were becoming more ‘automatic’ without consciously ‘thinking’ about them. Injuries took me off that path. (I know, I know – ‘Oh boo hoo. Shut the f___ up.’ The compassion from you drips off like – like – honey.)
No regrets for the path that opened up for me and where I am now.
And everyone’s idea of “creative thought” is different. I’m sure there were folks like Einstein, the folks that came up with “Spell Check”, etc, who would say something out loud (“E=mc squared”/ “These folks can’t even spell the word ‘Spell.”) and listeners would say – ‘You’re a genius!’ – And Einstein would think to himself – ‘These folks are morons!’. Again, just sayin’.
And yes, being the “right guy, right place, right time” is also important. Reminds me of the story about Vasily Arkhipov, the Russian sub B-59 and the Cuban Missile crisis. Also, I think that most folks have their own ‘crisis’ that others think are ‘minor’ or not even worthy to be classified a ‘crisis’. These folks are morons.
My last comment deals with the lobsterization (SP?) of you and Mary due to the stupidity of the Agency in: 1) Not telling you what you were transporting; 2) Not shielding the boxes (How many other folks ‘handled’ these boxes not knowing what they really were/the danger to themselves/etc?); 3) Not providing security for their transport?; 4-?) Et al?
But as we all know, ‘stupidity’ was/is certainly not limited to the Agency. At least in the early 80’s, when shown my initial GDP positions facing the Warsaw Pack, I was told that if needed, the Engr Bn would dig us tank firing pits – Tank firing pits in the open, rolling fields studded with areas of forested areas – for all 54 tanks of the first of two Tank Bns and 2 Inf Bns in the Bde. And I’m sure their Arty would be firing ‘blind’, totally unaware of our initial and follow-on secondary GDP positions. Counter battery fire and air superiority would have been critical. But it was what it was. Mankind was lucky.
“The test is not over,” Herbert replied, once again hanging up. Oh yea!
Sincere regards my friend,
Doug
Doug Danko, my friend, it’s always good to read your well thought out comments, as you prove once again by writing following the first chapter of the new volume. The rolling incompetence of the time and places was astounding, although not so evident until
one participating in it stopped later to think about it. Some of it was just not knowing who was doing what or why. Any failure in the chain could leave a potentially terminal gap between expected events instead of continuance. There was also not much terrorism going on back then…not that there really is now following 911. Thanks for what you wrote and the compliment of your writing it.
Semper fi,
Jim
John McCain? That came out of left field. I was not a fan of his politics but I have nothing but respect for the man. Can’t help but wonder if this next chapter will affect my view of this man. Great start for the next volume!
McCain. PTSD max. Loved him and so disagreed with him many times. Lost him when he got too important to talk to guys way down there as me.
You won’t lose respect for him here
Thanks for the great comment.
Semoer fi,
Jim
Good lord Junior, or LT Strauss.
This just keeps getting more and more exciting!
I love this S__t!
Thanks David for the great compliment as I push on into chapter II.
Semper fi,
Jim
This story just keeps getting better and better sir!!
Thanks Jason, and it wouldn’t be happening without the encouragement and support of people like you.
Semper fi,
Jim
Tact…. some people acquire it, some people never get it. James, I think you invented it.
As I reread the “interview” part of this chapter, I find that your anticipation of Agency operations is rapidly expanding. And the conversations with Herbie will only get more intense and entertaining (from the reader’s viewpoint).
Of all the names that you have previously mentioned, John McCain is one that I feel I know something about, other than Nixon.
Best wishes for good health. We need to see where this saga continues to go.
I hope I don’t disappoint you, although I don’t write from a fictional foundation. My experience with
McCain was simply what it was as written in this next chapter, as well as Richard Marcinko. The Post Vietnam period back then still included a lot of Vietnam stuff, aside from PTSD, which I and other surviving combatants suffered in spades.Thanks for the compliment of your writing and your constant support.
Semper fi
Jim
James, growing up on a farm in the “50’s we were always trying to figure out how to survive dealing with the adverse weather and the imposition of incomprehensible government farm policies. However, my family taught us to trust the government officials because they surely knew what was best for us. Little did we actually know of our elected officials, their integrity and character. The news we had access to merely confirmed what we thought and painted the other side as incompetent fools. Our leaders were surely smarter than we were.
No one we actually knew ever wanted to run for high office because everyone has a few skeletons in their closet and someone can be found to tell of regrettable and unfortunate life events. One of my ’50s friends, after listening to an old old man tell his captive young audience his views on the state of current events, got up, slicked his ducktail haircut back hitched his levies up and remarked: If you are so damned smartm, why aren’t you rich? In truth, that old man never had been lucky but he was truthful and honest to a fault.
I think everyone would be better off today if thoughtful people such as your wife had been handling our domestic and foreign affairs.
When can I start trusting our government again?
Spot on John, and I’m going to copy your comment and give it to my wife. What a great long and very accurate piece you’ve written and I’m
only sorry it took me so long to answer. The chapter is done and off to chuck so it should be up sometime tomorrow to make up for that.
Thank you my friend,
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim,
Bravo! First chapter in the new volume sure did not disappoint (other than coming a day later than I had gotten to expect).
Negative effects from alpha waves, wife about to go ballistic on you, Herbert still being a mute regarding actually providing you with all the essential details any reasonable person would assume they should get from their handler/boss… They apparently would give you orders to reach down a python’s throat to pull out an object it swallowed–without bothering to inform you that the object was an alligator that the snake swallowed tail first. And then the FBI tailing you–a CIA agent. The “agency” (without telling you) sending you “job applicants” to work insurance for you (were they being sent to work WITH you and FOR you, or were they being sent to keep TABS on you?), and a secretary who seems to NOT be a big fan of yours (yet?). Did you feel like a rat going through a maze in the dark? Will it be the REAL John McCain you will be meeting, or some other person who happens to have the same moniker as the famous one–like when you met Capt. James Kirk in a recent chapter? LOL.
I am enjoying riding along with you on your fascinating adventures. Thanks for the (long) ride. Keep ”em coming, Sir. Wishing you a blessed, glorious and trouble-free day.
THE WALTER DUKE. I think I responded to this one already but i am rereading and loving your writing once more.
Keek them coming, my great friend,
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim,
The reason for the double post…I posted it the very first night you had it up on site. I saw (and read) your responses to others who posted after me. This has happened several times. It says that “my comment in moderation” but for some reason does not appear to be visible to you. Perhaps I inadvertently mis-typed my name or email address. Not sure why, but my right out of the gate first comment to your chapters sometimes just stays in moderation as if for some reason it is not seen by you on your end. I have decided to not be so eager to be the first to post a response to your chapters so I do not put another comment out there that just hangs and loiters like a super slow curve ball. I will let my future comments marinate in my brain a while and see other readers comments before I add mine here. I often tell other friends of mine what a great writer you are and how your style really captures the reader, and how the substance of WHAT you write is a real attention grabber. Blessings to you, Sir. Have a wonderful and blessed week.
THE WALTER DUKE. I treasure your comments and pour over them in detail and reread them. I answer very quickly but that’s not how this site always works. It seems to do what it wants upon occasion. Thank you for caring and thank you so much for the detail you go into in analyzing the work. It does effect the work, as I think about what you wrote in comments and then the story wends its way along, not in a different direction, as that’s pretty set in stone, but in a different way of presentation. I cannot thank you enough. Chuck runs the site and he’s got loads on his back getting the fourth novel out in print and then fixing the mess that the rewrite of the first chapter has entailed (the printer left off the last three chapters!). Thanks for the compliment buried not so deep in your complaint.
Semper fi, my great friend,
Jim
starting tuesday morning i look at the email feed once a day till you post.. wonderful work & thanks.. my dad was nsa and moms cousin was cia, both from 59 ish to 68 ish.. so your stories are the fill in from what dad never said a word about..
Tim, it will be there tomorrow as usual when Chuck gets it posted. It’s off to him. Things are sure developing and none of it is the stuff of movies
or television. Just plain but wild times in the spy business.
Semper fi,
Jim
This is mystifying. Alphabet agencies, insurance business “cover up”, John McCain, Herbert says your test is not over. This is going to be one heck of a chapter.
I hope you love it Charley, because i never know. My wife always asked me how the chapter was when I’m done and I tell her
to go to the comments, the only true criticism and evaluation I get and most other authors would die for.
thanks why friend,
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim,
Good googly moogly! Holy poop! Dang! I could go on, but you get the picture.
“the drive – conducted quickly and in silence.” So, did you feel like the frog just put in to the pot of cold water and put on the stove? Though unlike the frog, you knew a ‘rolling boil’ was coming? I mean you did turn red – As did Mary, sooooo I imagine that that particular stove had settings above ‘high’. Just saying.
More in a bit.
As always, regards my friend,
Doug
Well, prurient soul I am, I ddi take some photos of her red naked body for evidence, not that it turned out that it mattered.
That collection, however, I now treasure in secret and she’d kill me for my telling about it on here but she doesn’t read the comments.
If there’s one group of guys zi can count on to applaud my taking the photos and then keeping and admiring them through the years however
it’s this collect of friends and readers. You see, I’m stil a Marine!
Semper fi, my great friend,
Jim
I just follow along knowing the answers will come, or not . Many story doors opening but we must be patient . Spotted one letter y that needs removed ..Last line in paragraph that begins ” I made it to the Rover” . I believe your shud be our.
Thanks for the help Charley and the compliments as usual.
Semper fi,
Jim
Hey James – wonderful thing it is to be greeted in the morning by Chapter One, Book Five!
I am surprised that you are not terminally dizzy from your first week with the Company! Go here, go there, spin around in circles while stomping your feet. But you are an adaptive soul and have a fairly quick mind. And are also blessed with a great, very accurate memory.
Was never a fan of McCain, so you can skip direct to Chapter 3.
Thank you for being willing to bare your soul to us, and your heart.
How could I not, bear my soul, once I got going, having been kicked in the butt by Chuck and then having you guys all come in and
not let me quit for one minute. Jeez! But I love you and the rest of them and march tougher with you as an affinity twin.
Thanks for allowing me to be so close in your life. I treasure that.
Semepr fi, my friend,
Jim
I have a very good friend who was Head of Security with the FBI at Los Alamos for many years. Retired now.
Los Alamos security went to hell for awhile before some exotic stuff brought it back.Thanks for the comment and the addition of
your own experience.
Semper fi,
Jim
Thinking about the transfer of radioactive material; everyone was an FNG! Now everyone in the industry carries something that totals the total rads! Then you were kind of single use logistics! We have spoken about the insurance model…your idea gave you amazing leverage! Can’t wait to hear about McCain!
AS ever you are spot on about the times back then and how it is now.
Unbelievable how lax it was and how unknowing most of the scientists were.
Thanks for the usual accurate and great comment.
My great friend,
Semper fi,
Jim