Colonel Crystal's Parallel Universe

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Colonel Crystal's Parallel Universe Page 12

by Hufferd, James;


  Montmoracy: “Oh, I agree. We were all duped at the beginning. And people have learned to keep their mouths shut, as if it’s not our world.”

  And so it went.

  Calls that came in from ‘Quorum’s’ audience were almost uniformly supportive, and other veterans’ collaborating stories emerged from mostly silenced (and forgotten) sources.

  XXXVII

  Of Being Misled

  The next interview that came up, at the far more mainstream World Now Radio Network, with popular host Alex Graham, proved more challenging and critical in tone for the two ex-officers, perhaps better suited to their directed message. And, as with the earlier interviews, Colonel Crystal was left to carry most, though not all of the rhetorical load – General Franklin Montmoracy maintaining, dubiously, that Alva was the better explainer and rhetoritician. Alex Graham set the tone with his first question: “As we all know, every, or virtually every other major nationwide institution in the United States is widely discredited these days except the U.S. Military. And now, you seem to want to discredit even the Military, as well. Don’t you think this nation, if it is going to hold together, needs at least one institution to hold up as honorable and fully worthy of its support?”

  Colonel Alva waited several seconds, but his counterpart remained silent. So, he spoke for himself. “I am not disputing the fact that the U.S. deserves and needs a powerful military for its defense. It absolutely does. My objection has to do with the way in which that military is conditioned – through what amounts to wholesale dehumanization and psychological possession of normal young men and women – and used for purposes of dehumanization and objectification of human beings who, usually through no fault of their own, are regarded as in the way, in some respect or other.

  “And with how, truth be known, its our military’s deployment that has discredited it as any kind of force for good – if not in the U.S. itself and in the controlled west, where the truth of the way it has been conducted is systematically at best blurred, then certainly in the world at large.

  “And, if every other broad institution in society is discredited as corrupt and failed,” Colonel Alva continued, “how likely is it that this one alone – which we both know is corrupt in its operation – would not honestly be susceptible to being likewise tainted and discredited, if it were only through contamination by its necessary interaction with the others? I’m not saying this out of animus for an institution – the military – that has certainly been good to me personally.”

  “So, then, why are you doing this, saying these harsh and, if it might say, rather shocking things?” interviewer Alex Graham asked.

  “Because there is absolutely no way that anything will change for the better until the people – our real sovereigns – recognize the truly enormous problem of imperial dehumanization, its massive cost, in effect dehumanizing our lives as civilians, and radically gobbling up a good chunk of our country’s resources and treasure, belonging to us all, and our individual chances of ever, sharing so unequally a diminished pot, achieving financial independence or lifelong success. And so, it’s incumbent on us to demand that this version of our imperialism stop, reshuffle.” “But, what about the wars where we’ve intervened to protect people from worse people?”

  “Well, that’s largely a moot question, isn’t it? The Colonel responded. “Because that’s rarely, or never, actually been done; though it’s often said to be, as a fig leaf to conceal real motives. Were it true, then why wouldn’t we have intervened in Rwanda? In Darfur, or southern Sudan? And why, at least with arms, on the side of our unfortunate policy victims, residents of East Timor?”

  He digressed. “Why is it we disdain the Palestinians in their struggle for dignity, even struggling for life by whatever means?.

  There are plenty of seemingly dire instances in non-strategic areas where no one comes in to help anybody. And certainly, no one comes barging in to rescue us from our besetting fears of threatening monsters, non-existent enemy countries, either – we’d probably be too suspicious of their motives to let them help us if they ever did come!

  In fact, can you just imagine the reaction on the ground if anyone ever tried to intervene to any great extent on our behalf here in the U.S.A.? Black helicopters, at a minimum! Can you imagine?”

  XXXVIII

  Adversity at the AIS Special Forum

  Two weeks later, Crystal and Montmorency met at Atlanta’s Hartfield-Jackson International Airport and traveled by rental car to Atlanta International School’s special forum on “The Military Sector." The ex-General used his part of the presentation, as it turned out (to Colonel Crystal’s mild shock), to rather defensively soft-pedal the main message. As an undoubted response to their shared “radical” theme, the presentation was sparsely attended, but reasonably well received by those there, with several audience questions acknowledging some interest, at least intellectually, in the introduced defense only theme.

  The presentation occurred late in the afternoon, the last of six on the schedule that day, and was the only one billed to represent a clearly dissident point of view. Perhaps for that reason alone, nearly half of the two-thousand left before the presentation, paving the way for the relatively positive, or at least tolerant, reception by those remaining. Unfortunately, a few more got up and walked out before the end.

  Afterward, during the wine and cheese meet-and-greet in the adjoining ballroom, a smattering of individuals approached the pair with additional concerns and questions, only one of them in any way problematic. Still, considerably fewer queried them than any of the other presenters.

  Among those few, one was Dr. Edwin Clark, a speech coach who approached Colonel Crystal specifically offering his services free of charge to improve his delivery. Though skeptical, the Colonel accepted his card, with a nodding agreement to be in touch in the next few days.

  Another, a fellow high-ranking retired Air Force officer, General Charles Noland, stood aside until everyone else had dispersed.

  A white-haired rugged giant, in uniform, in contrast to the two street clothes-dressed self-styled dissidents, General Noland approached and extended his firm hand to each in turn.

  “You two have created something of a stir,” he began.

  “Yes, I suppose we have,” Montmoracy answered evenly.

  “And personally, I couldn’t be more pleased about that,” Colonel Crystal remarked, rather outspokenly, “since such is our purpose.”

  “Well, you’re not making any friends in the military, I can tell you that,” General Noland followed up. “And I don’t hesitate to tell you as well, I think you’re a couple of fools. I mean, this sort of campaign you’re on is unseemly, beneath the honor of your ranks.”

  Alva perceived that Noland, who he knew was living in retirement in northern Georgia, had come in the guise of a concerned friend – which he doubted was really the case. “We’re not doing this for our health,” Colonel Crystal, uncharacteristically a bit piqued, answered back.

  “Good God, I hope not! This dissident stuff is baloney. You know what’s really wrong with this country? Too many people stepping out of line – all of these obnoxious conspiracy theories, trying to step on the ability of people who can get things done for America getting them done!

  “If we’d all just do our assigned task, and not try to figure everything out we have no call to question… Some things are set in stone. Got to be..”

  “You mean things like 9/11?” General Montmoracy surprised his protégé by inquiring.

  “9/11? You’re not one of those… Are you?”

  “Well, the evidence indicates clearly – the forensic evidence from the Twin Towers and…”

  “Indicates what? What evidence are you talking about?”

  “…Indicates clearly that the official story is total bunk. Horse crap is what we used to call such fairy tales in Iraq, when we heard them, remember?”

  “Well, all I know is it was Osama and the nineteen maniacs with box-cutters. And anybody who say
s it was otherwise is hallucinating. I saw it – everybody saw it. There’s no need for evidence beyond that.”

  “If I indicated something else, would you at least examine it?”

  “I don’t think so, being there’s no purpose.”

  “You make our case for us,” Colonel Crystal added.

  “What?”

  “Google it. Or, look it up. You won’t ever know what we’re talking about until you do.”

  “From seeing what a mash you guys are making of your lives, I don’t think I can afford to go down that path.”

  “You prefer to remain ignorant, then?” Crystal shot back, ill-advisedly. This man would probably send in a report.

  “Of some things, yes,” he shot back. “If that’s what you call it. I opted not to drop acid either. There’s some kinds of things a respectable person just can’t afford to look into. I hope you understand that, before…”

  XXXIX

  Cruel Aftermath

  As Crystal and Montmoracy were wrapping up their stormy exchange with General Noland, Alva noticed a short, squat figure in an Army uniform, fidgeting in the shadows next to the theatre curtain. This was Major Darby Dillow, Viet Nam vet and Georgia state commander of the VFW, and he was furious.

  Major Dillow, it turned out, was the self-appointed champion and defender of the honor of those princes among men and princesses among women designated “our troops." As his complaint made plain: “You have insulted the honor and integrity of our American troops." Spoken with passion in a piercing high tenor voice. “You both, and especially you," he alleged, poking and nearly collaring ex-Colonel Crystal. “You said they were ‘fueled by animus, racism, unprincipled jingoism, were homicidal, and a disgrace to their countrymen’! You painted them, on their bad days, as nothing more than a ‘mindless, heartless mob’, when they’re fighting every day for democracy and to protect this special country.”

  Crystal barely held himself back. “Whoa there, Pilgrim! You get a little wild with your paraphrases! I’ll happily concede that U.S. soldiers may have overwhelmingly thought they were fighting to protect a democratic America. But they, too, were duped and reacted accordingly. Most have been either blinded, or unsuspecting, as to the demonstrable motives of those who armed them and sent them to the war and occupation zones and, clandestinely, behind the lines.

  “I’m afraid they’ve been more tragically propagandized and affected by American exceptionalist propaganda and its purveyors than just about anyone else in the world. But I would never place the brunt, or much or any of the blame for that on the soldiers, who, upon entry, are mostly just fine, conscientious, regular young people, motivated by promises and perks. They are, by-and-large, only unwitting pawns. And note how little any of them stand to gain from the whole inglorious operation that makes those that pull their strings fabulously rich – beyond anything those soldiers, most of them, will ever imagine! Later, the system treats them like pariahs and lets them, many, die homeless, mostly of a broken heart and deranged psyche. And twenty-plus a day blow themselves away! Didn’t you know that?”

  * * *

  Driving alone back home from Tallahassee International in the middle of the night, dead-dog tired, Colonel Crystal let himself into his house, relying on the dim glow of a sentinel night light. He momentarily fancied he saw a shadow shaped something like a liquor bottle, in the half-light next to his queen-size bed, but passed it off and proceeded to undress and slip wearily under the still-rumpled light cover. He heard a little peal of distant-sounding laughter, like a giggle. Then a sultry shrill but soft, frankly drunken voice and a small supple hand caressed his back. “Aren’t you glad to see me, honey?”

  Colonel Alva went rigid in his back and legs. He couldn’t answer because his heart was stuck in his throat.

  He knew now, most bitterly, that he couldn’t afford to take Felicia back in, even if on his own terms, which it wouldn’t be. Choices had consequences, and so that was that. He had made his. Damn choices…

  “Don’t be cruel…” he reminded himself.

  XL

  Firmed Conviction

  The next morning, Ludmilla came at breakfast and stood behind Felicia’s chair combing her long, auburn strands of hair. He had relented and touched his wife and held her lightly in the night, but couldn’t do more – and then couldn’t sleep as she softly wept and convulsed to exhaustion by dawn.

  His dilemma was solved providentially for the time being on the second day after his return from Atlanta, when her mother in Charlotte suffered an aneurism and she rushed back north, saying nothing. The Colonel packed his lunch and his waders after lunch that day and set out in his skiff up the shore, to fish a while. Easing his way north, he planned to hop inland just a bit on the turn-around to load up on apple fritters from Jerry’s Bakery, his favorite stopping place.

  Half-subconsciously, and half-consciously to escape his troubles, he dubbed himself a freedom fighter – perhaps even in the same league as black agitators who, from the earliest days, fought for integration; but he was none too anxious to lock horns with the multitudes of patriotic jingoists. He believed firmly that he was the patriot for pointing up the demonstrably devious, aggressive stance toward the reflexively hostile outside world. While he was up-coast, he picked up a copy of the Tallahassee News published a day after his return and discovered an open letter to north Florida and Taylor County residents from fiery Major Dillow, the Georgia VFW commandant, featured in a half-page spread.

  The letter read,

  “My fellow Citizens and Veterans of Northern Florida: Be informed that a most deluded Enemy and turncoat agent of Lies dwells among you, in your lovely town of Steinhatchee. I am referring to ex-Colonel Alva A. Crystal (AF) of Steinhatchee, Fla., who is actively pushing a shameless heresy of lies against the honor and motives of our active and recently-active deployed Soldiery. Ex-Colonel Alva A. Crystal, USAF, a scurrilous, though honorably discharged field commander in Iraq and Afghanistan, has, via a continuing series of strident radio appearances, writings, and most recently in person, with another retired Air Force Officer at the ‘Military Sector Forum’, hosted by the Atlanta International School, aggressively besmirched the conduct, honor, and patriotic motivation of U.S. troops deployed abroad, in the Middle East and elsewhere. He habitually characterizes the demeanor of our Troops and their missions as mean and hostile, belittling and outright harmful to the interests alike of the residents of the countries themselves beset and of the United States. The unavoidable truth is that ex-Colonel Crystal is determined to abet the enemies of said United States and sabotage the support enjoyed by U.S. military policy and its hundreds, thousands, up to a million agents working variously in the field. I condemn his misguided, malignant efforts and recommend his ostracism and continual surveillance, and urge that prosecution and a fittingly strong penalty will be very much too good for him.Most Sincerely, Major Darby W. Dillow, USA (ret.), Comdnt, Georgia State VFW”

  “Good God!” Colonel Crystal cursed to himself, and that was all. All the way down the shore toward home, he silently dreaded the prospect of his seafront yard being filled with vengeful protesters the moment he arrived. And maybe his house would be burned down. So then, when he found it safe as he left it, he breathed a big, audible sigh of relief.

  As he entered, his phone was ringing. It was Mr. Lawrence, Will Goldsby’s staff attorney. Conrad Lawrence wanted to know if he had uncovered anything helpful toward unravelling the “concentrated attack” (as he phrased it) against his client and friend. Colonel Alva was likewise relieved to be able to inform him that he had, in fact, uncovered something of possible limited value, and told him about the credible tip from a source involving FIB special agent Fred Spear, but, beyond that point, he reported, he had been stonewalled and his attempts at further inquiry unproductive.

  Since he hadn’t felt he had recovered anything worthy of reporting, he was mildly astonished to find Goldsby’s attorney ecstatic to receive a gift so “useful and full of potential intel." L
awrence promised to follow up and stay in touch.

  Alva stood and stared for a minute at the phone. “What next?” he asked himself, shaking his hair-challenged, confused head.

  “Good ending as any,” he assured himself. “To never know the truth of it… in this case.”

  And so, the full nature of deniability shone through again: deniable.

  XLI

  Repercussions Cometh

  He’d commenced his merciless dreaming again – there was no other way to describe it – of the astral object looming ever more menacing in the deep-view field at the unknown observatory. The object by now appeared so colossal (meaning close) and so clear he fancied he saw beings of some sort – though miniscule at the still-immense distance – moving, perhaps on migratory paths, over its surface.

  This dream invariably flitted to the one in which he saw and then found himself inside a plane, at first slowly spinning upside-down infinitely high above the ground in Iraq, a mere faint speck in a deeply blue sky from ground level, steadily releasing bombs straight down onto a certain point amid tent villages and normal migration paths perhaps of family groups on roadways, all smudges far too obscure through shimmering distance and haze to make out from so high up.

  He awoke in the morning to a sharp staccato rapping at his front door and then, when he went and looked, he glimpsed a figure disappearing, a backside in denim shorts over shoddy heels vanishing through foliage into the adjacent lot.

  Swinging around, he saw that word about his activity had spread, as he had dreaded. The front of his house was streaked in the yellow and red of tomatoes and eggs, the back the same. Alongside the front door, a crude five-foot high charcoaled hammer and sickle besmirched the outer wall. Cans and bottles, dog dung, toilet paper, torn scraps of cardboard boxes, bottles and shards of glass, broken shingles, laths, contents of bedpans, all littering the yard. At least, this whoever hadn’t yet resorted to arson or property-breaking.

 

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