nd, yes.  We ARE at war.  The encroachment of the Muslim movement, the tirade of mounting black rebellion egged on by the liberal democrats of color in high places, the roar of the Mexican alien tsunami after the illegal bypassing of Congress by the sitting POTUS (President Of The United States), Agenda 21 . . .  Yes, we are definitely at war.

God Bless our Military

The old Patriots experienced life in pre-70's America.  Theirs was the last era of the Brave, Free and the Proud prior to Vietnam.  The Brave, Free and the Proud would not assume it's rightful place in the description of our military until Desert Storm.  But that situation should have never been.  Our Veterans should ALWAYS hold a place of high honor in America.  I say "God bless our military!"

Most of the men with whom William hung, The Old Gentleman's Club, were baby boomers.  They lived America in her prime.  Fierce Patriotism still flowed red white and blue in their veins.  Many had served in the military, but there was deep patriotism in many of those who had not served as well.

Future government bums

Mid the Vietnam Police Action, the hippy movement began and the negative respect downward trend reared its ugly head.  Returning servicemen were shamed as the drug influenced brain dead hippies who refused to serve our country were influenced by the the new moniker of liberal progression.  Many, including future president, Bill Clinton (pictured at right with fellow hippy and con artist Hillary), would burn their draft cards, move to Canada for a while, or just hang out on the streets doing nothing outside of smoking weed and dodging the police.  They would side step and justify their cowardice in serving our great country by muddying the issues in an attempt to defeat the shame they felt.

William Travis was one of those who was extremely patriotic, and, even though he was ready, willing and wanting to, never served.  He missed Vietnam by a mere few months, after which the draft was discontinued.  There were minor scraps such as Grenada, and a few other military police actions, but nothing of significance until the 911 fiasco.

Picture: (Beams cut with explosive charges.  Dust not even settled yet.)

An inside job pulled off by military types, and with the approval of then sitting POTUS, George Bush, the twin towers of the World Trade Center were demolished and blame laid on terrorists.  It was the perfect "Pearl Harbor."  Many, upon hearing that term, began to wonder what was meant by it, and upon closer study of the collapse, realized the buildings were "pulled" or demolished by internal explosion.

When the connection was made to Pearl Harbor, intense research proves that previous knowledge was obtained prior to the attack, and that an attack was imminent.  Early warning was dismissed.  The reason the attack was allowed to happen was to cause the American popularion to change it's mind about getting into the war. The higher-ups wantonly and deliberately dismissed numerous warnings on the morning of the attack to allow it to happen.  They wanted it to happen . . . they needed it to happen . . .

American Veteran Cemetary -  Normand, France.

Upon the "surprise attack" of the Japanese, hundreds of thousands of angered Americans flocked to the recruiting stations ready to defend with their lives their country, their way of life and ultimately, their freedom.  Many of them would do just that: defend with their lives as they laid them down freely all over the world - many of who still lie in grave yards in distant places far from the homeland they loved so much.

Many more lie in unmarked graves . . .

As a result of the Pearl Harbor fiasco, America was fully embroiled in WWII.  When the war was over, hundreds of thousands of men came home wondering, many times with a guilt complex of "why my buddy died and I didn't."  Many would be permanently scarred, with flashbacks which would haunt them for life.  Many would see an early demise through heavy drinking, and some through deep depression, would end it all in suicide.

The Vietnam conflict was no different.  Nor Desert Storm in Afghanistan and Iraq.  Many came back physically wounded, the wonder of life dashed brutally from them in physical as well as mental impairment.  It seems mental impairment is much worse than physical impairment.

Many wished they had died.  Many longed for death.  Many longed for another chance in which to give their lives for their country.  It is a passion many Vets secretly harbor and wrestle with in old age.

But, what if there was a way to die for ones country even in old age?  It was in one of those dark times of melancholy that William's idea was born.  At first, just a fleeting thought, then, the inception of the idea that perhaps, there really was a way to die for ones country.  A way to spend a life that longed to be spent for ones country.

The fiasco of 911 angered him deeply.  He studied every facet of the videos found on the internet and understood that there was a deep undertow of unscrupulous, behind the scenes puppeteers who were pulling the strings.

Most within Congress and the Senate had been compromised via blackmail or some other scheme, or just because they were plain old crooked.  All they did was collect a check from the government, vote themselves raises, took vacations, and vote for the issue that would net them the biggest kickback.  As far as doing the bidding of "We The People," they did very little.

WTC

Especially in the face of the sitting wanna-be tyrant who bullied his way through with race card and outright lies.  Promising one thing, doing another.  The time had come for a different type of American Warrior to arrive on the scene, The Old Patriot.  With all things considered, they were the perfect asset to be spent.

Obama was the last straw . . .  His reign was strewn with overspending, cowardice in the face of the enemy, habitual lying, homosexualism, and any kind of deliberate action to divide the country through racial baiting, favoritism, courting a tsunami of illegal aliens, thousands of which were militant muslims . . .  His whole ideal of being a President was to play golf and embarrass the nation before the world.

Through his deliberate actions America was collapsing, her gold in Fort Knox long plundered, the two trillion dollars that was missing just prior to 911 announced by Rumsfeld the eve of 911, magically disappeared when all the bookkeeping records were tragically destroyed being conveniently stored in the basement of one of the Towers.  But, there was a way to fight these kinds of scandals, and many would line up to do just that.

William had many patriotic friends who were as patriotic as himself.  Many shared his frustration and eventual downright disgust at the current goings on, and they aired those emotions sometimes in lively discussions at The Club.  He jokingly tested the waters at one of the Patriotic Gentleman's Club meetings in a game of cards late one evening.  Most had all gone for the night with the exception of his trusted few.

One of the quickest and the oldest men, Old Joe, called so because he was the senior of the bunch, caught it almost instantly.  His last name, Armstrong, was sometimes varied as a moniker to Headstrong, because once he set his mind, it took a truck load of TNT to change it.

A wistful look came over his face as the scope of this concept settled into his mind.  He lowered his hand of cards a little and looked William straight in the eye, quizzically studying the intense fire in the eyes of his trusted friend.  "You got something in mind?" he asked bluntly.

That was typical of Old Joe.  His name was Joe Armstrong of Texas blood hailing from Austin, and his blood flowed the right colors.  And, although they might be a mite faded, would not run.  His was a boldness that would be described as a jetliner squashing a gnat, even though the odds against him might be described as a mouse trying to stop a freight train.  He didn't know the meaning of "back up."  Neither did he know the meaning of "quit."

After a few moments of intense thought along these lines, he laid his cards face down on the table, and said "I've been considering something of the same.  Especially since I got this last Dr's report of the cancer that has returned.  I want to know what you're thinking Will."

By now the others in the game, a total of four, had all come alive.  Curt Stallings had now laid his cards on the table face down, and surprised them all when he said "I've been thinking along those same lines, and I've got a plan."

Randal sat there gazing at William, his eyes flashing a fire William hadn't seen in years.  He had a look of expectation on his face, and his donation to the subject at hand was a hearty "is that really something we can we do together?  When can we start planning?  What are your thoughts Hazard?

Hazard was the young squirt of the bunch, being a hefty whole year younger than Randal.  Hazard was meticulous in his thinking, his attention to detail and his wit kept the others laughing at his mostly inside jokes.  His name was Leonard Hazart Diamond, and most called him by Hazard, which was a variation of Hazart and Diamond.  He also liked to blow things up, and always had something in his garage or truck that was a hazard if one wasn't extremely careful.

Randal was about two years under William, and he was the vibrant over-active runt of the crew.  He never sat still, was always moving, singing something and rarely sat in one position for more than a minute or two.  He had been suffering from cancer as well, only his came from Agent Orange in Vietnam.  He was the third of the crew who was a vet.

Now, William had the attention of the whole group, and all were eyeing him with a serious gaze as they waited for his next words.  "I intend to make a mark in the history of this nation, and I'm willing to die doing it.  It's time someone DID something to right these wrongs!  Here's my plan."

Within two minutes, he had bared his soul about his planned mission, and the others who had quietly sat weighing the issues back and forth, quietly, one at a time, each had said "I'm in."

aces-n-eights

Before they knew it, the large old Grandfather clock in the hall struck four.  "I say let's study on it and come back in a day or so and compare ideas," William said after they'd exhausted themselves of the initial spur of the moment ideas.  With that, he spread his cards on the table face up.  He had the "dead mans hand."  He looked around at the others surprise, got up, reached for his coat, adjusted his 45 on his belt and stepped out the door.

Within the amount of time for the others to do about the same, Randal had cleared the table, replaced the chairs, flipped the light switch off, and checked his own XD, locked the door and stepped out into the chill November air.  If he had his way about it, this would be the last Thanksgiving he would spend in pain waiting for death to over take him.

Meet the 'Grim Reaper'

"Soon, he thought to himself, "I will embrace death, but on my own terms, and I'll shake the hand of the Grim Reaper when I say, not when the Drs. finish toying with me."  As of a few hours ago with this development of Williams, as far as he was concerned, he had taken his last treatment of chemotherapy.

William knew he could trust any of these men with his life, his deepest secret or his fortune.  It would have to be that kind of trust if his mission were to result in success.  The time for more in depth planning was upon him.  He would pick the first target and bravely ride the wave of Patriotism to meet his maker soon.

But there would be much opposition to overcome which would not melt away easily.  He would meet his stiffest opposition within a week of the death of App-0001a.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
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Chapter I