…David C. Garr was shipped-out to the lower-Macon Delta after being certified as a first-class Seaman-Chemical Engineer. Something to be ‘proud’, as his-subordinates were weighing-into away-crafts. The warm-waters and hot morning-sun was just-rising… Copters-flew protection, as the radio-men called from ship-to-shore. The logistics, had to be just-right for away-ships… One set of coordinates-off; and the entire-mission would need-to be aborted or men lost on open-waters; open-to enemy-fire. David had been briefed for sometime with his fellow-officers.
He didn’t particularly, like his fellows but he knew that they regarded him with equal-respect, and repute. David thought of his Dad as he sat-in group. He-knew like his-father that routine was too easily, complacent that was when things got ‘rough’. He-could remember when his Dad would put his hand-on his-shoulder to correct him to steady the boat, not be so anxious or not subdivide his-thinking. David, had a hard-time convincing his-father that the military would be a worthwhile, venture; as he-had experienced its demanding-hardship…
His-father had wanted him to play for All-State for the local-college but David didn’t feel his obligations to stay with the easy-life. When David’s little-brother came along he felt no need-to be his father’s ‘little-boy’… He-had a younger-brother who’d probably need as much attention from Mom and Dad, as possible. In deference-to their new-baby, David wanted-to prove that he could be a brave-soldier… By time David left for military-training, young Chris was five. He idealized his older-brother yet his new-demands meant that he traded what was brotherhood for the ‘responsibility’-of an honorable-hero…
David knew, early on, once he left the briefing-room his-life was changed forever. He-felt thorough about all-the especial-rules and regulations of his military-role. No time-to devise those youthful plays on difficulty, the demands-of military-life engendered a whole new-class of realities. Those that would-not be denied. As the spray-from the sea vessels flew, he smelled the liquid-fuel haze, the hot-steel of machinery and the stench-of forlornness that came after one inhaled the coming forest-jungle. He had no-time to elaborate… ...With David-at the center, Bo acted upon his lone-lifeline; willing to understand his mindset, risk personal danger and work alone, to stop and solve a mass-crime before all was lost-to system’s crucifying and the failure-of an agency-to subvert a man’s giving his-all.
To Bo, this is what was at-stake as a ‘Brave’, giving all-to a tribe but lost his most valuable-’honor’; dignity, to those whom courage was not enough and dignity-is drastically, a dedication-of-falsehoods... Yet ‘steadfast’… David, Bo finds out-has a psychological make-up laughingly, ruled-reciprocal yet engagingly, ‘vital’; and sophistication and assertion, advantageousness, almost to a fore-thought… As he climbs the high-mountain range Bo’s high tuned energy and intellect-begins piecing-together the ardent, duties and regiment-of a ranking, government-agent leader; commissioned and worthy-of import in technical-detail…
Bo’s main-concern; was to figure-out just what happen while working alongside high-profile, law-enforcers; studying how, one if their-own officers killed-five men on a jump-in. David C. Garr is somewhere in the high-mountain range, after a forest-fire. Bo’s job is to reach the evidentiary-site, to see what happened and how… If his-deductions are true; David could-be a rogue, military-man; endanger-of killing more, or a man-to be crucified by higher-ups and plastered-across every newspaper in America.
Bo sensed, from knowing his-brother that he-was truly a brave and courageous-man. And that his-situation may have twisted-through flashbacks, over-time… This ‘flashback’-information before and after-the-fact could have been a war waiting-to happen, in David’s mind… David, alone in rough isolated-country had flashbacks, not sure of his-role in what had happened… -Lonely, covered-in ash he wonders about yet not recognizing, what happened; as he instinctively knows to rough-it from his war-days... The snow had fallen, and he was using his training for high-range survival.
He-covers ground as, if the Vietcong were after him. He-hears range-finders zeroing-in, to where was his-location… He-has become so skilled and adept at-’territorial-range’; he-runs at top-pace to out-’rounds’, (rounds are air-patrol, on coordinates)... Bo-after joining the investigation and personally, meeting Chris; his guided-brother familiarizing, staying in-the know and ahead of the game… Bo is an excellent legal-strategist, a renown investigator; having-skills comparable to David G. If anything, Bo was David’s ‘best-hope’...
Bo rode up to the Washington-mountain-territory in one sense to aid crime-solving and the other; come as close as possible-to pursue ‘best’-definitive to David’s case. Tracking-into back-country, alongside the U.S. ‘best’-legalists, could mean turning-aside their efforts-to pursue a better-recovery of the structure of David’s case. Bo had resisted any anomaly, subjugated by the ‘actual’ and evident. His-time down-from the mountain-range had been going-on now, 40-hours. Superceding, all this was the ‘practical’-evidence.
After a day at his hotel, several-meetings with detectives, and the enumeration of factors and ‘co-efficients’ he was reaching an underscore… As the drive-to Seattle was more pleasanter than the range. He was objectifying things. Like, where David might be and what would be said-to Chris; with the whereabouts of David being, ‘intertwined’… This, was a ‘long-shot’... Although imperil, and imperviousness had now been interwoven as its crime-implication. The rule with Bo was staying in-advance of any obsequious-‘parables’. It-could have been an ‘infectious’ and empowering-efficacy. Now being arbitrated by force of law… It was obvious to Bo a ‘parable’ was being of refute as to an expending, upon actuated-evidence...
Yet Bo’s prowess was meticulous, and was simmering it down-to its ‘bare-bones‘… Priorities, in an extensive ‘preclude’, and providence that could be conduced in the peremptory case-for dinning-forces. Like an eagle, spreading-wings over the river flying-down grasping a large-fish without the ‘slightest’-fear… Staying along river’s edge until final-’set’… David was within the ‘waters’, now. Yet inferring, how-’far’ and ‘deep’… The tribal-scouts saying the illumination by eagle and fish, is: ...does the fish settle-on deep-waters as the eagle-controls flight...? The dependent-factor, is: does the fish-seek-as the eagle-seeks…?
...Would be determination to pursue, in an ever ‘waking’-evidence… Or, how ‘sure’ was the waters of David’s elliptical case…? Was the corporeal of the ‘dialectical’ task-force crime solving, making for ‘murkier’-waters? Or, was the cases ‘fragments’ leaning-to a capture? Bo, knew the ‘eyes of the eagle’ were ever, sharply, deeper-still, than surface-water: ‘deep’... And that patent-aiming was to being more exact. Perception to ‘air’ and ‘water’, would be residually, closer-to a precision; that is within rational-evidence. He would have-to…as the sun-shone upon his route he drove into California; the ocean-view was pure and glossy.
The pummeling-shore squalls gave-way to calm sea-foam. Winds died-down and sun-shone, brightly. Bo listening to the car-radio in his rental the case was now explained as a legal-’cliffhanger’; with sound-bites from state and local law-enforcement and opinions from F.B.I... Sure-enough some journalist would do a peremptory-scene, soon no TV channel would miss and criminal-reporters would get themselves a viewer’s block while C.T. was being interviewed… Bo knew he had to be ‘brave’ for him, that a true-friend saves in the hope of the most barren-tribesman, sacrificing upon his-own strength. …He-thought, as the City of Sacramento, with its tall-buildings and paved-streets lead-off and ahead into the distance. Bo had made a call-to Chris and discovered something he knew was now at the ‘warrior's ground’. He would now, have to receive ‘battle‘… Chris had taken-off from his-teaching thesis, to search for his-brother; a yearlong end-of-study, request. He said they set-him up under such circumstances… Bo-thought, it was now his responsibility. In an parethetical-order to a contingent evidently on a level-plane, that had been deeded-to him
…
As concourse of an evidentiary, ‘denied’, his-brother. Yet he knew rewards came at an expense, that’s what made them worthwhile. Bo didn’t especially, need money nor did his-’reliances’... On this case although, specifically, having a personal-meaning. Yet he was as pragmatically, in an addendum; and that the very turn-out was very well just that. If David had a chance of surviving court-protocol; the very-strands of his life, were being-now upon Bo’s very mental-warding. Bo had to make sure,, Chris and David didn’t fall-upon many legal-’conspirings’. Bo wasn’t especially used-to handling cases not yet drawn-on as court-crime appointee... In fact, his case now had him running ‘point’ and ‘HQ’; something that he understood with some retinue in a coming, close proximity...
Affectively, knowing he needed functional-complacency or the case could fall-apart. He could have had just Chris’s handle and development, in this case… So he told Chris to meet him in Los Angeles, without leaving town; he’d tell him as much about his brother as he could and that he could keep him informed ‘as to’ the lead-in this case… Then, called his ranch in Nevada... Bo Jon had kept several ‘hands’ within range, at all-times. Sylvia Lamb was the house-keeper and home-coordinator; often running-point while he was away. ‘...What’s up, 'Captain?’
‘Sylvia, I want a favor.’ ‘Can you find…’ ...He was sure and to-the-point. She-agreed to his orders, and by 6 pm in his hotel-room Angela Kempt, State Rep. for Washington, one-time rural-worker for the tribes of the state, was called-in. After 7 pm, a call came from the U.S.-DA Patrick Scheller; one-time, Minetonkan District-attache; now working as an AG-hiree. He headed-off what would have been a wide-open ‘cry’ for Fed-enforcers... Bo had one thing that 30+ case-workers, had at once been endowed...
...An ‘open and shut-case’ of mass-murder... Bo talked it down to a hit-or-miss, fragrant-act... While Chris,was being adamant about un-exacting-flaws, in introspect about his brother... Bo Jon knew exactly, where he was coming from; in, all the ethical and indentations; he’d sat by as the legalities of an army of enforcers and one innocent-relative had to threadbare… It was all ‘relative’; or was it all things in a state-of-relativity. Chris, was at wit’s end. It was growing more seriously dominant, by everyday. Yet as the mountains lay-behind him, the organization of crime and solving, were more a ‘threat’ than resolution…
Bo Jon watched, enlisted and understood that-in the mountains, at final-stage and back in Seattle; the atomizing, descent had been murder and an on-the-run, rogue-killer. Bo wanted to stay away from the idea: ‘rogue’, it meant an ultimate-demise. And so parallels in efficiency, deficiency and co-efficient-anomaly were quickly, growing to be unfamiliar...
‘Lieutenant. Help me. Please…' The night-sky streaked with flare-lights. The fire-storm was still going on… Men were screaming for help while the recovering-fighters had to form forward-moving attack… It-was David’s third-mission and subsequently, his-mission entailed recovery of the dying-warriors... Adept now, at pyrotechnical-insurgence, his men were to stay quiet and keep a ‘sharp-eye’, as assured as Lt. Garr… Embarking-on the command by David. He-knew now, to seek-out and subvert-deeply, fierce-adversaries.
Before reaching this-point his men tired-through a regiment-core a numbering-in the low-20s, without-resistance… …His thoughts, he had while walking through a bog. To reach a lower-road. He heard the rockets as a truck convoy rode-by carrying logs. He hid as several-troopers' vehicles sped past. He knew killing was now apart of his life, permanently. He didn’t know exactly what happened. He flashed, with the images of faces burnt, bleeding, blown-off and ashed. The smell of gun-powder then he remembered he was going into battle with his comrades, a battle he couldn’t know the outcome… His Adrenaline rose then he realized there were dead; some resolving, calm came, when he internalized a fire and he knew all was-done and nothing, was left. He-was satisfied yet as-typical, he was doing his-duty… David wanted to be at home, and the place that seemed-to subdivide, his psyche. Every so often he’d hear screams and yells, faces-of downed men...
Then, he heard copters recently, dispatched which decided-to do a final-pass-over in the area… David called in the medics; trying to relieve the pain-knowing that, it was done… He saved a lot of men but he knew his-duty was only starting. The dead-lay frozen in time, life snuffed-out in act-of-war. --Chris would meet Bo Jon in Los Angeles, to ring-in certainty of what was the circumstance…
As adamant as Chris was, Bo knew he was over-whelmed with concern. Obviously, Chris was somewhat similar to his brother, a serious and forthcoming, caring-person. Bo Jon tried to learn and understand what had went along with David ‘s thinking; he would engage fuller-delineation into the understanding and interpretation of his circumstance… Bo Jon was to meet with Chris at a picnic-grounds instead of his-hotel. Bo needed fresh-air, to subjugate issues and illusions and get down to ‘brass-tax’…
--It was David who reached a Washington State park rest-area. He was hungry, he’d eaten grubs and vegetation as per survival quota, yet he wanted meat. He’d found his credit card, 10 dollars and his wallet in his jumpsuit and the pictures of fellow-soldiers, a picture of his superior and a driver’s license.
His eyes were red with smoke and he-realized he again; was in some sort of tribulation… No-one was at the site, yet David had wished there-was someone...of ‘his’-civilization. Bo Jon had settled into his hotel, reauthorized his rental, and purchased-items, he-needed. Bo was in it for the long-haul… Although, he’d left the crime-scene and the assailant, more-important was colluding-with Chris; an adjustment-to what ‘could-be’, a very-complex situation... In addition to insistence in the situation, it was apparent the defining-of the crime was, in ‘err’.
Which was in-essence functionally, fulfilled… No, Bo Jon knew the provisions were best attended-to with completing legality, and then followed-through; in an critique-elicitation. It had to be done, properly. Imposition had-it, of that supposing disparaging enlisted, design of a ‘formed’, and tabled-condescension. It could become, in ordinal that precepts would be set-up as center-plot, if anything. Bo was boding with presence and practical; an attentive, to stay-out of the ‘fray’ and in an accurate-excision. Bo’s requests of other legals, whom could assize and elliterate the case; that could ease ‘elementals’-of an earning-ardent. A marker, to the company of professionals, that could lead-to a certified and an assessed-overcoming…
David-hitch-hiked with a trucker. It was as if the truck-wheels squealed like the yelling of fallen-comrades. Eliciting the ‘prime-rule’ of division and defining, was applying the supposition; that could be in a guiseful-design. He was still in what was a confounding circumstance. David realized in the back of his-mind, he was again, coming to be withstood in a military-trenchant... David was realizing in some deep-way; he did something, besides by ‘the book’.
David had went through an evolution. He was a survivor, sustaining-himself through divisional-vice. A vice, which had provided a subjection for him. In what was a preclusion that was parallel, he rode to Los Angeles realizing, his brother lived-there. He was back to normal; yet in certain respects, he knew duty had been complied, and implied in its conclusion… He woke-up Monday-morning, in a dumpster. In Los Angeles, a 4-hour drive... He was tired and was having flashbacks of a deep-seated chaos. Someone was dead, perhaps unintended.
Again he had completed a duty, yet in a necessarily, strange-commitment had occurred. By what might have been a parable by parallels; that being realized was in a bases of ‘extinguishing,’ life… Through purposeless possibility, he knew evidence and incursion were done-through his own hands.
...He knew that a strange act of decision had been done. His back hurt, as if he had been through some strange-exertion. He realized it had not been an exclusion. He went to the store to buy things he needed. …Jesse Deluego Fores was a 14 year-old, 5-foot tall boy, with long curly black locks, he rode
his bike around town to make money. He delivered donuts, eggs and flowers to bikers and area-shops making 12-dollars a day. Everyone in the area knew him. He was a drop-out at 10, when his mother got sick.
He was very smart, could count money very fast. He was a good delivery-boy. He was savvy. When the local mom and pop-store had trouble getting produce he asked a friend to smooth things over. He was also a wise informationalist, telling what went on about town. Today was egg delivery day. He had a rack on his bike. The egg truck turned up at 6 am he began loading and unloading… He kept an eye-out. He was very energetic, racing across town delivering-messages. Many of the residence counted-on him. In N. Hollywood strange things, were ‘natural’. So Jesse ‘The Kid’, as he was known kept abreast of neighborhood-news. When he saw a strange jump-suited man climb out of a dumpster he was not moved but went on his way, just as a man for reference, later.
...Bo Jon met Chris, just as a truck which was carrying David C. Garr to the local-shopping area, went by. Bo Jon was in the park with Chris when Jesse rode by on his-bicycle. His bike was a Sting-ray well built in a special shop given him as a reward. He rode up to the two and began a conversation as he’d done with so many others. ‘Oll-, my name is Jesse, you guys knew here?’ Bo Jon answered his question. He then asked questions about where they were from, details of himself and who he was: ‘My name is Jesse, Jesse Deleugo Fores…’, from North Hollywood.
He expressed about himself and they began to know Jesse the Kid. Jesse was enamored with communicative, examinational and interpretative skills. It was obvious to Bo Jon, he was intelligent beyond his years. Jesse asked interested and informative questions. Chris liked kids, and Jesse was a more well-understood child. He had just became a teenager 2-years ago, and had been taking care of his mother that long. ‘Mi Matre has been sick for sometime’...
He explained to the two, the story of his young life. Bo Jon realized he was a virtual ‘treasure-chest’ of information. Jesse looked at Chris, taking in the details of his face. Bo noticed how he watched Chris like an art-student at a museum. He realized that he was seeing something familiar. Bo Jon came to the internal conclusion, he was… He had to ask Jesse questions so he took Jesse aside and spoke with him. But he also had to not ‘lead-on’ to it… Los Angeles was a complimentary-’asylum’, a very institute of inviting. As Bo Jon rode home he now knew, David was close-by.
Or had been, he decided a nice precocious boy had a lead-to the case. And his superior-intellect marked a two-ring-point and crux, to ratify exisence of David C. Garr. With Chris right-there, the pivot and crux were now in co-axle. After informing Chris and re-instilling by the reticence of a brother, being told that he was ‘wanted‘-for crime... Now, mogrified into existence… He keyed-together, off-fitted and installed, a practical to a presence, posing and prevailing-oracle, toward Chris’s better virtue.
It was obviously, pertinent. Jesse-the-kid, in his truly-poetic, proving and improvising in-purpose and presiding was that had in a venture had a certain-‘providence’ to vector of his ‘saving’-surmise… Perfection and a personage, that was an inordinate-aid. Bo Jon gave him $25.00 and a number, where he could be reached if more information should come-up; also he did mention he would pay all his mother’s health-needs… After seeing Chris back-to his dorm, he had built a new structure-on and of, Chris’s representative life…
He contemplated Jesse’s and Chris’s young-lives. ...Intermingled with forces of both difficulty and diligence. Proposing to overcome and instill for life. They told stories of defining that only, they could tell… A simple yet illustrious, story-of-hope. As Chris found his life in amphitheaters and books, so did Jesse’s street-life. What would become of them and their different-theories in living and out-living, ‘justly’… Bo came-back to speak with Jesse again finding out as much as possible. It turned out allegedly, David was in a dumpster not four-blocks away and had gotten into a truck dressed-in his jumpsuit. Jesse did not question his-sighting-for he was used to such-things.
Perceptively, Jesse in repose, had taught Jon a lesson. ‘Many things occur for a reason, Amigo.' '...If we let ‘obstacles’ determine outcome then there is no point in going-on’… He listened to what was good-advice. ...Bo wanted to assist him as he was in difficulty, taken bravely and with self-insight. Bo-asked him more questions of his knowledge, he perused more insight. Like what kind of truck of what make, could he tell what direction. Chris felt relieved at how posingly, dimensional Bo had formed the case. Envisioning, articulating, and provisional of what was at stake. Jesse had in-ordinated the fulcrum of Bo Jon’s case and for that he was thankful...
After arriving-back at his hotel he needed to rest. As it was, David was an outlaw and a fugitive. He probably, was looking for Chris, so he turned in at a hotel near-campus. This-was one of the few-times he would pursue a criminal cross-country… It would not be long before he’d be sighted. Bo Jon knew the issues were complicated. He was used to this, many a case’s implications were set-forward by small incidentals setting-on a parallel-plane... He called-in a judicial ‘gendarme’, who could stabilize this one… It was evident, subjective and circumstantial-evidence which was piling-up.
He’d rest in a comfortable bed, eat and relax his mental-state… --The red auto repair-truck of ‘Samson’s Repair’ stopped in San Diego to collect, parts. David dressed in fresh clothes, new boots, a cap and a down-Parka; walked out of San Diego and crossed the hill-scape into the Sierra Nevadas… He bought a motorcycle with money left over from work with the repair-shop. He talked with a driver and told him he was a Vietnam vet and he was a long way from home… No one realized, who he was. He was on his-way home.
Along the way he was thinking on how his life had reached a ‘crescendo’, that his brother whom he could not see due to the catastrophe of a mental, ‘casting-out’... He thought of the flames, ill-fortune and authorial-luster, that-he knew as a young Lieutenant, in-training. A ‘loss’ of identity, intention and contention; all so forging, and unfortunate… It was set now, there was little that could be done. So implication, the sanctuary and sentiment all for what? A intuitive-condescension being so ardent and arduous… He wondered who-would save him. As so many, were killed.
It was an encumbering, precluded in that life-was of ‘little’ worth… He climbed the brush and thought on the diffident deferrings in a life of ‘was(es)… Laminally, a course of de-concisions… …Carefully, the plan was made, he would decide his place, to die. That would come at his choosing. He’d faced many elementals in life; but he’d try to understand, focus on reaching a goal; an objective in self as it ‘glows’; ‘burning-away’, the lacking-of being ‘mortal‘... A flame, that would ultimately, be by the greatest standards…’seeing’ the cleansing-of-flames.
He thought of his brother than he thought of the flames taking him. This, he couldn’t let happen. The flames had been fed by an creedant-orifice; while he sacrificed to it, honored-it, embraced-it. Yet his family was not a part of it , 'he’ was of it. Then he saw it: 5-men, a ‘hallowed’-effort and death to honor a duty, invoked to settle the ‘war of insurrecting-Chalice’… He wanted the fire to burn these supposed-’elite’… He-cried, as he met the road-to Nevada...
A police-cruiser sat at a secluded-diner on the way... Few-clouds flowed across the sky. David had grown a beard and sported glasses. He rode-up into a lot on his 1,250 cc Honda. ‘Look at that ‘sold’-biker!’ ‘Heh, heh.’ The two-officers looked-on. David went-in, ordered some coffee and a sandwich, and left. He got some gas and rode off. As he left he heard the APB on ‘David C. Garr’ positively, alive and on-the-run. Surviving now meant he’d be on the run for sometime. He realized the idea of going home was out of the question.
He rode South to Phoenix. He-realized he would never see his home again. Thinking on how he wished to see his home with a large-condo on a hill over-looking the countryside. He really missed C.T. And he-s
eeing to his classes… Figuring, he was in his internship-at U.C.L.A. It being Fall, he’d be leading several-hundred new-students in Business Administration. David remembered how he got him into school. Those times were the best, even though his-idea of things were covered in an versifying-illusion. He-was given the honor to work-home-side, as part of a special-commission. His-papers were assigned when his commitment was up. 16-years as Lt. Commander and the struggles that were more of his own…
...His men were all he had. The emblem, meant more that he ordered men to die, and that those orders were civilized, by strife. Bo Jon explained to Chris his-role, on the way-to his dorm. An active Honors-student he’d worked his way through classes keeping a 4.0... He enjoyed class. He said that other than work, he wanted to get married and have his brother as Best-Man. Studious as his brother was, he was careful to give Chris room to grow…
He had a girlfriend, his third; the first two taught him about girls… Chris had matured and David at-work most of the time had not had a chance to acknowledge it. David’s superior-guises couldn’t set him up for everything. But C.T. always, harkened-back to him; as if he was the ‘reason’ for much of it… Bo, actuated C.T... About his brother: ‘A man is a man, if he is willing-to sacrifice himself for others...’ ‘...Although, David helped you, you’d have to be the man in his-stead…’ Bo could have told him, he’d have to learn... David, was responsible to his-actions and its conclusions, he believed C.T. knew that.
David’s imperil, along-with his honors were his making, and that although David help him; he, too had to turn the corner. A lot was about David’s embellishment, most was probably, so coincidental that he-was officiated by being in the right-place at the right-time. But his courage, his actions, and his character-all swayed with fate. The fuscicullus of time had aimed David to carry-out his command. Perhaps his faith had been swayed-in an end-of ‘hesitance’, or ‘in-fracture’...
Bo Jon knew, men who fought in Vietnam; knew men who fought, as told... Yet civilly, they were under the order of a ‘cold’-command. He realized he saved no one to deliberate-on this. David may have been a mere ‘pawn’ in a game of Chess yet the dimension might have been far greater. Emulating from it all was the delusion of a ‘mission’... Men of age, lived to forget dead-comrades, dying faces, cold death; but they ‘must’-be forgotten… ...He was going to do more research on this ‘tie’ of Lt. Commander Garr Naval-man/Seaman. He began by those at the military-library portfolio; by clearance from an old-friend. ...‘Sure, Littlehorse. But this-time, fill me in, on the ‘front-page’… Bo Jon had little time, so he said he’d cachet everything-later for when the case, cooled. It took 4-hours of access, four-reboots and a formal-preview, regiment-recast to attain the correct and accurate-files . David was an upper/mid-level credit. He-filtered through with level-6 status...
Bo though, once a level-5. Only, on temporary-enlistment… David was once an active duty-man putting in twelve-hours a day and fulfilling accountability-with a credibility… His service during the war, was excellent: a bronze and silver-star, and two-commendments. An exceptional-graduate of Annapolis Navy National Guard, requested by his Lt. Major-careered, father: granted... Excelling, in the skill of pyrotechnics in Chemical-Engineering; as a grade-6 demolitions-man.
Stationed-in Japan, during Vietnam and shipped to the front-lines, a total of 16-times... Lowest-casualties, most 'kills':no.1, in actual-launch detail. He was an easy pilot-caste, and adamant-Seaman. It read like a country boy’s dream. This was what struck Bo Jon to a contention. He-was a ‘fly-boy’, not set in anything ‘empirical‘, he was lucky. Yet it rarely, shown. If he knew a diligent-General who could have cut him-off to state-side in 16 months... With the ways of the war, he was needed…
Sequoia Trail-A Bo Jon Littlehorse P.I. Novel. Second Edition Page 10