(1916-1919, WWI)

Earnest Stanley, call this war, his war, WWI, the wench, or strumpet, or wild girl, it was all the same to him, it was on a Bridal horizon you might say, the war took him away from his wife, new wife, a wench grabbed him, and he had to yield to her call to active duty in the United States Military, the Army, this youthful blue-eyed and handsome man had just married, and off to war, to WWI, for it had just started for America, once in Europe, he was among the many foreigners mixed together like goulash, it was 1917, only one year would he remain there, not even that, perhaps eight-months, but he had marred Ella in 1916, and she would wait, and it was hard for him to keep his mind on a war, when he had a new wife, a plantation, well kind of a plantation, he had put money down on it, it was rocky, it had to be cleared, it was not what it could be, would be, if he could take care of it, all the things a young man dreamed of, and her comes a war, he never wanted to fight another mans battles, but I guess some did, and he was part of the pack that elected that someone to office, so he could get drafted into the Army.

It was a traumatic experience for him to see the dead, the maimed, to know about the Missing POW’s, the trenches filled with Germans shooting at him nine-hundred feet away; colonials, privates, the French, and the British among him, among the Americans, God’s human masses colliding together, collectively trying to eliminate an enemy, sometimes at lightening speed. Cigarettes lit one after the other, as men stood waiting for the next onslaught, trying to understand this war of mud and trenches, and death and diseases, while remaining in a repugnant stalemate.

He was one of the Ammo Humpers, who delivered Ammo to the trenches, he didn’t attack over the trenches, like his comrades did, like Corporal Justin C. Abernathy did, although they bother were from the same location, here in combat, and back home: twenty-one miles outside of Fayetteville, North Carolina, they were neighbors, neighbors that hand only met once, when he put money down on the land he purchased, but in this war, on the French front, they were combatants, soldiers of a different kind, Private Stanley was condemned, all to the dodging of bullets and incoming artillery, as he ran from trench to trench, over the fields to get to them, his comrades in arms, to supple ordnance to them men who would, and who did, go over the top, of the trenches, to bombard the Germans in their trenches, to kill, and be killed, by other Germans leaving their trenches to reinforce the trenches their comrades were being killed in, so it was his replacement for a direct attach, which he was not subject to.

The only thing that didn’t settle well for Earnest was that the ammunition he delivered of course, in time would kill others, to kill a man you don’t know, by proxy, he didn’t do it face to face, but had a stand-in you might say, someone like Corporal Abernathy, to do it for him, that bothered him, but on the other hand, out of sight, out of mind, was a good way to live and survive in this mud licking war, I mean if you had to kill, it was a better way of killing.

The Americans had come, and that brought a new spark to the war, and he heard there might be an armistice in the making; General Pershing was in Paris, calling a meeting, he had become General of all the European Armies, under protest of course by the French, but it was a matter of: you fight your own war then, so the French gave in.

He, Earnest, like so many Americans came rushing across the Atlantic, before there was no more England or France to talk about, the Germans were no pushover, they had the war licked, won, but not now, France reminded America of there contribution to the war, that war long forgotten, the Revolutionary War, yes they went back a hundred and twenty-five years to make their point, and I guess according to Private Stanley, they must had made their point loud and clear, and dramatically; before they became homeless; in the process of course, the French had to swallow a lot of pride, something they never like doing, but it all worked in their favor. They knew the old saying, ‘Pride comes before destruction,’ and they were not that dump to play the pride game to the hilt; the new American troops would be the counterbalance in this war. And so the counter attacks with the Americans where in place. It was a bigger war now.

And then the war stopped, just like that, grim and grimaces, and smiles filled the trenches, and the soldiers went home to rebuild their exhausted countries, fad into its lingering society. And Earnest Stanley was about to home also, first to St. Louis, picked up his wife, Ella, and go onto North Carolina, where he had put down that money on some land that would be called Stony Meadows in time, that would take place in 1919. But before he left France, he explored Germany, just a few weeks, something like fourteen days, total.

While in a little town called Dieburg, they didn’t know there was a truce, or a few soldiers pretended not to know, and Corporal Judson Small a soldier from Huntsville, Alabama was with Private Stanley, it was forenoon.

There were three German soldiers less than a hundred yards away, one took his rifle-which was being carried, as if he had just come from the trenches, mud caked on him from heal to head, and even on his rifle, and he must had jumped off a truck, one was going the opposite way, and was about to go home or something, he positioned his rifle deep into his shoulder, aimed, and a shot it, the bullet passed through the air like a bee you could hear it coming, and it hit Small, tore the side of his face right off to where his teeth were showing, ripped it from the eye socket, to the lower jaw, from the ear to the nose, ripped it to shreds, meat, flesh hanging like spaghetti, he fell with a thump, flat on his back, and Private Stanley had no weapon, he stood waiting for the second bullet, looking at Small, not sure if he should run, hide, or remain where he was, but not moving, was also an option, and that was his decision, and that is what he did, and someone in the background yelled, “Ceasefire, there’s a treaty…!” it was a German woman. And the soldier ran, with the other two soldiers, and Private Stanley had a man with the side of his face blown off laying down by his feet, not knowing what to do, whom was ready to go home, tell his wife, the war he fought, was over, we won; the wench was dead, deceased. Now as Private Stanley looked down upon him, he wondered just what he’d tell his wife, they’d try to put that face back together, if they could, and he’d be ugly as hell. His wife would have to find a spot on the other side to kiss him good night. He didn’t show him in a mirror what he looked like, he just told him, it was bad, real bad. And Private Stanley sat cross-legged by him for the longest time, that is what the corporal wanted, and he died, just like that. It wasn’t from the wound; Private Stanley would tell folks later on, it was what he saw in the mud buddle next to him, the mirrored reflections of his face.

The Elegy in Thoughts for a Comrade:

What were the thoughts of Private Stanley while sitting cross-legged, on the ground in Dieburg, Germany, as Judson Small passed on? No one really knows, but my guess is the following thoughts were in his mind:

Here was a war, perhaps started by a few factors, but once looked at clearly, it was just a few people in history that did not get their due in this war, called the Great War, WWI; meaning, Kaiser Wilhelm, who will have had to take his place in the evil top ten list, of Private Stanley, he being most responsibility for the nearly 20-million lives lost because of this war, and another 20-million wounded, lasting from August of 1914, to November of 1918. And it was because of him the Americans came over the Atlantic in 1917; lost 115,000-men to this evil war that now America would have to protect Western Europe forevermore.

It is a simple fact how it started, and proliferated beyond its seams, when it could have been so simply avoided- he conjured up in his minds-eye,, and we have an instigator who can take what responsibility is left, that which Czairist Russia will not take-Gavrilo Princip whom was the assassin. Austria declared war on Serbia, a Balkan Nation because of assassinations, coming out of the Serbian Government, and the trigger being the assassination of Archduke Frances Ferdinand and his wife Duchess Sophie; the assassination took place in Serbia (Bosnia, now). The Archduke was the heir to the throne of the Austrian Hungry Empire.

This is all perhaps an oversimplification-he told himself, but these are the basic roots that extend above the others, the poisoned roots that budge out of the jungle ground, and now out of the head of Private Stanley. Thus, this war developed into one tri-headed monster against another tri-headed monster, until there was a forth monster to eat up the first monster with the help of the second tri-headed monster-: Austria declared war on Serbia, the Germans declared war on Russia and France, so there was now an alliance: Italy, Germany and Austria, against Russia, France and England; then came the Americans.

See Dennis’ web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com

Sahmad began the secret instructions, “Close your eye and pay close attention so that you can precisely remember these directions. They are complicated but essential, and any deviation could prove disastrous. And remember; opening the centers should be done every time you begin your inner work.

“Start with a slow inhalation up the back and imagine it as a white ball of light, ending a few inches above the crown of your head. As you exhale, imagine the ball of white light above your head showering sparks all around you, bathing your whole body in white light. On the next inhalation, draw one-third of the inhalation into your forehead just above and between your eyes, and at the same time let the ball of light that is above your head descend down through your brain into this forehead area, both lighting and opening it. Draw the second one-third of the inhalation into your throat below your Adams apple, and again at the same time let the ball of light that is in your forehead descend down into this throat area, both lighting and opening it, Swallowing helps locate this center. Draw the final one-third of the inhalation into your heart, letting the ball of light descend down from your throat into your heart, both lighting and opening it at the same time. Hold the breath in your heart for ten seconds, while visualizing the white ball of light expanding to first, envelope your body, and then envelope the entire universe, encompassing all things.

“The fourth step begins with releasing the breath that you are holding at your heart, but only release a third of it. Drop this partial, one-third exhalation, and the ball of light from your heart, into your solar plexus just above the naval. Now fill your solar plexus with an in breath and white light by inhaling the one-third breath completely. For step five, exhale completely, letting it all out, dropping the breath and the white light from your solar plexus to the pubic area. This might be felt as a tingling in the sex organs. Now, fill that area with white light by inhaling fully.

“For step six, exhale completely, dropping your breath and the white light to the base of your spine near the coccyx area. Fill this area with a complete inhalation of white light and an exhalation as the area bathes in that light. Step seven brings your next inhalation and the light up your spine, stopping at an area just above the top or crown of your head. Fill this area with volumes of white light as you fully exhale; reaffirming your intention to open yourself completely to your spiritual essence.

“This completes the exercise, and at this point you would return to your normal inner work of concentrating on the feeling of the breath in your nose, or in your solar plexus, or perhaps concentrating on your circle of light. After your regular inner work has ended, however, you must always remember to close the centers that have been opened. I cannot stress this too strongly.

“To close the centers, visualize each one closing as if you are blowing out a candle. Always start with the base of the spine, then the area just below the naval, followed by: the solar plexus, the heart, the throat, the forehead, and always end at the crown. But instead of closing the crown, leave it open. This is the one exception to closing your centers - the crown always stays open and illuminated by white light.

“It is quite normal to feel strange sensations and see various colors; maybe visions, as you focus on the different centers. Be certain that no attempt is made to create these sensations, just do the work, observe what happens, and let it go, similar to releasing your thoughts during the inner work.”

Sahmad repeated the complex instructions one more time through his interpreter to be certain that I understood, stressing complete adherence. He then said one more thing before dismissing me, “You are in a position to find the key in this lifetime if you strive wholeheartedly. Be advised that there are beings, unknown to you, that are helping.”

With those final words of advice, he signaled me to return to my room, and turned toward the window.

My practice improved considerably after I began opening my centers, so much so, that I was eventually able to attain the Fourth Great Material Calm of Equanimity and Mindfulness!

This took place while I was sitting in the hall with the other robed men during a particularly rigorous thirty days of training. During this one special month of the year, all of the key seekers would sit together, night and day, in a rigorous effort to further their practice. It was toward the end of one of these intensive periods that it happened.

I felt a powerful merging of three components - the one doing the inner work, the inner work itself, and the breath in my solar plexus - and yet I felt aloof from all three, as if they were no longer distinct. I even relinquished the feeling of bliss, which this advanced Calm could clearly discern as being dangerous - too close to attachment and clinging. All that I felt was equanimity and intense mindfulness, heightening the mystical nature of this remarkable Fourth Calm. There was joy, and a notion of existence, and yet I felt as if I was totally dissolving into the Source, with no mental thoughts or stimulations whatsoever, a detachment from all things, a wonderful silencing of all activity, yet there was something tremendous going on at another almost imperceptible level to be remembered . . . but not understood.

This was quite an achievement, and after the episode I felt compelled to escape from the material world and go on to the next stage; the Four Immaterial Great Calms. The urge was irresistible. Notwithstanding untiring efforts, however, I could not attain the immaterial calms and was hitting a stone wall.

I had been following Sahmad’s instructions, opening each center before practice and closing them afterward, and heeded his warning never to stay concentrated on one particular connection. One day, however, I thought to myself that I am actually quite advanced in my practice, and that I have had quite a few months of solitude up here in the mountain. Surely, there could be no risk by opening just one of the connections to the Source, and if I succeeded, perhaps I’ll be able to attain the Immaterial Calms!”

The small, still voice in my heart warned me to talk to Sahmad before attempting such a thing, but my logic intervened, convincing me that I could easily control my opening of just one center, and that no damage would be done. And besides; Sahmad indicated that I displayed a good sense of intuition when I decided to change my concentration point from my nose to my solar plexus during the cobra incident. Therefore, my judgment in this matter should be good as well.

Again, deceived by my logical mind, I believed that I had a license to experiment with one of the connections, so I worked feverishly for many months on the area directly between my eyes. This was in direct opposition to Sahmad’s warnings, but I was confident that this pathway through the forehead, which enhances unlimited vision, would help me attain the Immaterial Calms. I never went to the trouble of closing the center, either; I just left it open.

One day I was sitting with the other robed men in the hall. We were still involved in the intensive months of day and night practice, and I was working relentlessly on my forehead center. Suddenly, large blocks of time began disappearing from my awareness. An hour would go by as quickly as two heartbeats! I didn’t know whether this was regular sleep, or the key seeker sleep that a John had mentioned, but whatever it was, it was intriguing. And somewhat amusing. Until unexpectedly that afternoon in the hall, everything changed.

It began with a bizarre sensation, that of a lightening bolt streaking down through the top of my head! Actually, I thought that someone hit me from behind with a heavy board. Then the words came - words so powerful that I had never heard anything like them before, or since - and they indelibly etched themselves forever in my mind: “You are now completely healed.” Immediately after this, my ears began ringing, and the upper part of my body became very warm, almost feverish. I also became extremely amused, for some unknown reason, barely able to control the urge to laugh out loud. Actually, I thought I would have to leave the hall.

Then, unbelievably, I saw waves of energy visibly flow from the top of my head down through my body and out the bottoms of my feet, spreading throughout the hall and into each of the silent robed men sitting with me. How silly they all looked! I could barely keep from laughing, watching all of them sit there practicing their inner work with such seriousness and concerned faces, and how ridiculous those powerful words, which blasted from inside my head, sounded: “You are now completely healed” because at the time, I was in excellent health, the prime of my life! What was there to heal?

As I gazed about the hall, wondering why in the world these robed men were so serious, I suddenly realized for a brief moment that everything was just a dance! It was so funny! The urge to laugh became uncontrollable, as if I was back at the castle with my father scolding me for giggling at our enormous dinner table; the more he frowned, the more I giggled. I finally had to leave the hall before my laughter erupted and disturbed everyone, but when I went to my room and tried to sleep, the giggling abruptly stopped.

It was an unimaginable, terror-filled night. My mind ran wild with uncontrolled, random scenes in vivid colors, several flashing every heartbeat, while the top half of my body was on fire, and the bottom half was cold as ice. My heart was pounding and fluttering so severely that it would actually stop beating for long periods of time, producing a feeling of intense fear and impending death.

In the middle of the night, it became unbearable, and I stumbled out into the hallway, passing out. Luckily, two robed men found me lying beside the young lad’s door and carried me to Sahmad’s room.

E. Raymond Rock of Fort Myers, Florida is cofounder and principal teacher at the Southwest Florida Insight Center, http://www.SouthwestFloridaInsightCenter.com His twenty-eight years of meditation experience has taken him across four continents, including two stopovers in Thailand where he practiced in the remote northeast forests as an ordained Theravada Buddhist monk. His book, A Year to Enlightenment (Career Press/New Page Books) is now available at major bookstores and online retailers. Visit http://www.AYearToEnlightenment.com

(WWI, 1919, Part II of II)

One morning, Lilly Ann Small, moved her chair up to the living room window for a long peaceful morning, gloating , not at the empty yard, since her husband had died in WWI, a year or so ago, it was now 1919, but on her new suitor, James Jason, who worked at the Huntsville, courthouse, he was an old boyfriend, one that didn’t make the grade she had felt, one that was now contriving to ease her grieving pain by asking her to marry him. She watched the chickens in the coop over by the large oak tree, and beyond that the orchard her and Judson were going to cultivate through the many years of marriage they had planned together, clutching the windowsill in front of her, she saw a man walking up the lane, she rushed to lock the door, out of some unknown panic, he didn’t look like James Jason, and she was several miles out of town, on her little farm of twenty acres. And strangers usually did not come so boldly up the lane at 9:00 AM in the morning. And then back at the window she looked again, drew back in her chair. Perhaps it was an Army friend of Judson’s, she thought, that one that wrote her about how Judson died, that Private Stanley from New Orleans, or was it, North Carolina, she forgot, but that was over a year ago. She noticed a neighbor was watching also, there was only one neighbor, across from her, in the Old Anderson Place, it was a plantation back before the Civil War days, a productive plantation, now just a high weeded spinster home, to Annabel Anderson and her sister Mary, and a small country church, resided a ways down the road near the edge of her property, which was once Andersen property also, but Annabel gave it to the church, to build a church, that called themselves ‘nondenominational,’ which she could never understand but it sound good. Other than that, the land was doted with small farms all the way into Huntsville.

Lilly Ann looked over towards Judson’s old rifle, he kept it loaded, said for snakes and so forth, but you usually didn’t kill snakes with rifles, unless you beat them to death, he used the end of a shovel usually, to cut off their heads with, if he found them on the steps of his house or playing around in the yard scaring the chickens, the rifle was for mammal use, not the reptile. Anyhow, she looked and felt a little safe it was there. The closer he got, this stranger, the more he looked like her husband, Judson Small. “Maybe,” she said out loud, “maybe he isn’t dead. People all the time make mistakes, a pure and innocent mistake.”

Now he was at the door, knocking, whereupon she realized that he was Judson Small indeed, and she opened he door gave a virulent germ grin, as if she wasn’t sure if she won bingo.

“Judson, Judson Small, is it really you?” she asked.

“I’m hungry,” he said, kissed her, and went to the kitchen table, “how about breakfast,” he asked.

There was something peculiar about him, but she Lilly Ann, simple took it slow, said, “I’ll make you some coffee and hot cakes,” and proceeded to do so, but unstopping, kept an eye on him, wanting to celebrate, but he was sedate in way. Her second thought was: perhaps he’s just come out of an Army hospital; she didn’t know what to make of it, to the edge of being dumfounded.

A few days now had passed, and Judson Small was doing things around the house, and James Jason came over, and so did Samuel Clarence Lund, the preacher from the local church, he usually visited Saturdays anyway, and was curious on who the visitor was, for Annabel Anderson had mentioned Lilly had a male guest in her house, that of course was news, lots of gossip.

James Jason also came over to visit Lilly Ann that very Saturday, Samuel did, Judson knew him from High School, said James came out with, “I thought you were…” and before he could finish it, Lilly said, “Hush!” and he never finished the sentence.

After that, Lilly simply said, “You need to go!”
And he did, without a second’s hesitation, knowing Judson was there, and his peculiar kind of tranquilized looks were a tinge too much for him.

Samuel on the other hand pulled Lilly aside and asked, “Perhaps I was mistaken, but I understood your husband had died in the war, over a year ago?”

“Yes, Samuel, he did, and I been meaning to ask you, but you will not believe it, I think he doesn’t know he’s dead. Because he acts peculiar, and I checked with the authorities, and they sent me some money-insurance and they buried him for me, and here he is, and they will not agree he is alive, and I fear they may put me in an asylum if I insist he is alive but you see what I see.”

“I’m tired,” said Judson.

“I’ll take you to bed in a moment, let me just talk to Samuel a second, he’s the new preacher down at the country church, down yonder.”

And so Judson went to his normal bedroom alone, and sat on the edge of his bed as if, ready to lay down, but was somehow, less tired then he made out to be, and remained sitting.

Samuel and Lilly looked at each other a moment, just wondered exactly what Judson could be up to, did he know he was dead, and pretending not to know, or was he dead and came back because his wife was confused on the intentions James had on her, she would never truly know, but Samuel, somewhat gave his support by saying, “I do believe in such happenings, he found some kind of a passage, and obviously he came to insure you are ok, brief I think now it will be, James will never come back, I mean would you if you were him? (She shook her head no with a smirk on it). Incidentally I heard his side of the face was blown off, it looks just fine to me?”

“Oh, that never occurred to me, but you’re right, that is another point to reflect on I suppose,” said Lilly Ann, as she looked into the bedroom, and saw Judson, then he got up, came out to her, kissed her, and went back into the bedroom and laid down, she saw all this and made sure he was ok, then said good by to the preacher, walking him back out of the house with the to the lane, taking about five minutes, whereupon she came back in, full view of the bedroom from the door, she had left it open, she saw the impression of his body in the mattress, it was the first time she told herself, he ever kiss me so tenderly (in a more caring way). He was gone, I suppose she thought, once he realized things were under control, regardless of his feelings, he had to let go himself, let go of her, so she could let go of him, and go on with her life, somewhere along the line this had to happen, and the moment had come, he was gone. And that was the last she ever saw of him, her husband, or heard of him. She never did remarry her eyes star-crossed with love for a war hero perhaps. In a way, they both were doomed and fated to each other, and it was obvious that day would never be forgotten.

Written 7-5-2008 (dm)

See Dennis’ web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com

Full of Beans at Wallace Creek
((Adolescence) (1965))

Advance: In the spring of 1965, Wallace Creek was full of mud and cold cool fresh water, from the meltdown of a cold winter, when summer came the creek was flowing almost like the river it connected to, it was high; the sun likened to a fire from a winter’s, plantation’s hearth, which made for a great summer getaway down by the creek. Bees were buzzing, birds chirping, and dogs barking, and there was a warm wind that whirled its way into, through and around the slim branches of the trees, loosening the leaves attached to those slender branches, and they wiggled free, and fell drunkenly onto the ground; Cassandra was eleven years old looked thirteen if not older and developing; Langdon, was all of fourteen, and as handsome as any movie star in Hollywood.

Those summers prior to 1965, were happy summers for the most part, and this summer for Cassandra and Langdon, would be no less, with a few surprises, but the last. She came to visit as usual for three months on the Abernathy Plantation, sometimes she stayed the full three months, and a few times less, and a summer or two, Caroline and Langdon, stayed in the Hightower House, in New Orleans. They had quite the system, and it broke the boredom of life, although Caroline would only stay for a few weeks, and leave Langdon in Betty Hightower’s care, and likewise, Betty would leave Cassandra in the care of Caroline on their plantation, outside of Fayetteville, North Carolina after a few weeks and leave, and they would get a break from the kids, and the kids would get a break from their parents. And Langdon and Cassandra got to grow up together, harmoniously, with a family member almost their own age.

At eleven years old, she was quite developed, so Langdon would find out this year when they went skinny dipping in the creek. Her body was smooth and hard, with a flat stomach, and Langdon had an iron stomach to match, and once they put on their swimming suites down at Wallace Creek, on Wallace property, it was show and tell time. Both swam together near the river that the creek connected to, it was deeper there, and Cassandra liked looking at Langdon when he floated on his back, she was not shy by no means and even asked him to, and neither was Langdon, if anything they both were a little taken back at each others developing bodies. They snuck glance after glance at each other, checking out each others limbs, and movements, and the erect way Cassandra was now walking (just eighteen months prior Cassandra had asked her mother for a bra, but was told point blank, ‘not yet!’ not until she got something to put into it, and it was a sad day to say the least, but a twelve months later, she had her first bra, and a little something to put into it, and now there was much more to put into it, although her mother had for the interim, stopped taking notice, but Cassandra didn’t, and Langdon, now eighteen-months down the road, could verify, she would be needing a new one soon).

This summer, they both swam almost every day, and they were no longer looking for the deep, deep water near the river, anyplace would do to get wet, and lay half naked, and sometimes a little more than half; they laid by each other and fell to sleep on a blanket. It was perhaps the best of their growing years, the best summer they would ever remember, the most tranquil for sure, untroubled without the slightest worry, matter-of-fact, had you asked them about growing up, I’m sure they didn’t want to this summer, they liked it as it was. But the Wallace brothers saw them swimming, and sleeping by the creek, they were on Wallace land, and created some rumors, gossip that went from the Wallace Plantation, to the Stanley Plantation, and on to Cole and Caroline Abernathy, and even Betty Hightower in New Orleans. Other than exploration, nothing had really happened, that is to say, nothing took place, seriously took place between the two cousins. As close as one can become, to Adam and Eve, in pure innocence, before they ate the apple, Cassandra and Langdon, did. But Cassandra’s childhood was over this summer, and she knew it, she was blossoming, and Langdon knew it I suppose.

Minnie Mae, Frank and Wally’s cook, met both Cassandra and Langdon by the creek one afternoon, told them that the two brother’s had aroused some suspicion among the plantations, and even called Cassandra’s mother in New Orleans told her that they were sleeping by each other half naked on a blanket by their creek; had it been a year ago, it would not have been suspicious news, it would not have mattered, but this year it was different. Thus, Betty Hightower told her daughter over the phone, “This is the last summer you will spend on the Abernathy plantation, without her present,” and she was final on that subject.

Betty was wise enough not to blame anyone in particular, lest she start a family feud, and pointed no fingers in any direction, matter of fact, she said very little on the subject, although one thing she did say to Caroline was, “I think the kids, are not kids anymore, they are adolescents, young people who are changing, and up to now their lives have been uninterrupted, but with unknown factors and hormones going wild, I think I have to give Cassandra a little more personal attention, so if we visit, we’ll do it together, if you don’t mind.”

It promoted a perceptibly cooler relationship between the two families, and to be honest, it was the last summer they, Langdon and Cassandra, truly enjoyed uninterrupted in their whole lives.

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((Story Fifteen) (March, 1971)
(Story told by Morgan, March 1986))

Advance: Even to Sergeant Morgan Carter, he knew there were two sides to every man, even to him. One he could lay his life down for a county that did not appreciate his duty assignments, in a War that was not popular, as in his, that being, Vietnam, where he served five tours, or five years, even got two Bronze Stars for Valor, almost a Medal of Honor, for saving a man’s life, in the middle of rocket fire, whereas most men are dead, when they receive such a gifts from the Army, or are even considered for such a award.

His uncle Frank, got one in WWII, but he had to die for it, and was buried in Florence, Italy, along with the Purple Heart.

Yes, he would die, give up his life for folks that called him ‘Baby Killer,’ every time he went home on leave, and he never killed any babies, perhaps the bombing did, but he didn’t bomb anyone, he shot them, or shot at them, and most of the time he didn’t know how many he killed, he didn’t keep count, nor did he go check on the ones he thought he shot, and they were not babies, they were also folks with guns, and knifes, and rifles, and so forth, like to like, he called it.

On the other hand, during the first tour of duty in Vietnam, in 1965, he fought a lot with his fellow comrades over simple things, and would have been called a drunk, and a good for nothing soldier at times, not all the time, but at times, and could have shot your foot off for the skimpiest of reasons. Why was this, he asked himself- (now 1986) the war now long gone, why does a man choose to do what he does when he does it, especially while in the act of war. A hero and a bum in the same body, just not at the same time, you can be, you can be all of that and hide it from the real world. We all looked the same, kind of. So he told himself. He had witnessed many soldiers hide, dig holes in the ground to cover themselves up from incoming rockets, gun fire, all wanting another hour of life, breath, privates, sergeants and officers, they were all alike during such a moment, and he saw many a man go crazy, shoot themselves in the foot to get out of Vietnam. It was he said, “The confused beast inside of each man.” And so it was.

Dead Black Smoke

The helicopter appeared over the airbase in Cam Ranh Bay, Vietnam, March, 1971, almost before Carter knew it, it was there, he could hear it before he saw it, and when he saw it, and it was just a mild shadowy configuration, he went into a process of deliberation. What he heard was a whizzing, a fast whiz of its propelled horizontal rotors, which could have been two or more; Sergeant Carter guessed it to be an AH-1G Cobra, a gunship for the most part, he didn’t think it was a UH-1 Huey (officially the ‘Iriquois’), it was mostly used for transport. It was searching…for the VC, or Vietcong, going somewhat is a circle, a loop around the outer rim of the airbase, in the thick of some jungle brush, thereabouts. It was not a good circle, but rather like a ripple that the helicopter traveled in, even perchance a bit clumsy in its maneuvering.

The chopper was looking for where the VC was launching their rockets from, almost at random; the pilot was Warrant Officer Herald Lund…

The Vietcong had ungracefully tried to shoot rockets out of underground bunkers, out into the ammo dumps, three ammo dumps on Cam Ranh Bay, trying to hit their targets, and in the process trying to deal with a helicopter overhead, one trying to find them and put them out of business, on the other hand, the Vietcong was trying to eliminate the helicopter, as it went in a loop, at an angle as if to make a strike and then an immediate turn, then came a sudden sound of an explosion, and the Cobra disappeared from the air, it whirled towards the bay, and rammed into the waters of the South China Sea.

Captain Rosenboum sent out his company of 167-men to secure the ammo dump, he was Captain of the 611 Ordnance Company; the night stood motionless for a moment, Staff Sergeant Morgan Carter II, came to a stop, a standstill, as he drove his jeep along the white sandy beach road along the seashore of the bay, dead black smoke rising from out in the bay. He disembarked his jeep, walked a few feet closer to the water to get a better view; it was an American helicopter he concluded. At that very moment, a five-ton truck, with some thirty soldiers were on the back of it heading out to secure Alpha Ammo Dump, several miles away, rockets were still hitting the area.

It was night, more night than the Staff Sergeant wanted, and he now had to deliberate, if he was to get on out to the Ammo Dump, or evaluate this circumstances, and then what-he was ordered to go to the dump and secure, and to wait for he troops they would be there shortly after his arrival. The helicopter was some three-hundred yards out into the water, pouring out Black Death. There was no one in sight, but then there was not much sight to be seen. He went back to his jeep, turned on its lights, drove down next to the water; there now he could see the illusion of a Cobra in the water.

He knew Chief Warrant Officer Lund, he had met him, and he was in that copter, although Morgan didn’t know it at this point. Lund’s head was bobbing up and down in the water, smashed between his seat, and the front dash of the chopper, someone else was already in the water, thrown out of the chopper when it hit, which the force blew the door open.

Sergeant Carter could see the nose of the helicopter was sinking, and he also noticed movement in the pilots seat perhaps the person was struggling and couldn’t free himself, was his mental conclusion, everything observable came by glances, a flash, nothing clear.

CW Lund, was a heavy man, and there was a Specialist Five Atwood whom was on board the helicopter, he had freed himself and was now swimming away from the site, evidently he did not go back to try and save the Warrant Officer, or perhaps he couldn’t, perhaps all the strength left in him was to swim to safety, nonetheless, when he saw the headlights of the jeep, and a figure standing on the white sands of Cam Ranh Bay, he yelled, “Lund, still in the chopper-help him!” If there was others Sergeant Carter didn’t notice them or remember them, nor would he put it in his report.

Sergeant Cater made his decision now, and jumped into the waters of the bay, and in a matter of minutes was swimming past Atwood, and down and into the helicopters pilot area, and sure enough there was an acquaintance, CW4 Lund, a half smile came on Lund’s face, “I’ve had it,” said Lund, “not sure if you can get me free, and if so, I’m not sure if I got the energy to swim out of this mess!”

The Sergeant pushed back the seat of the Cobra, and freed the Warrant Officer of his safety belt, and the six-foot, 280-pound man grabbed the five-foot eight inch, one-hundred and forty pound Sergeant, and down they both went, but it wasn’t to freedom it was the helicopter had moved, and sunk deeper, and the CW was panicking, and the Sergeant was being overwhelmed with his panic height and weight in that little space, and he pushed the CW off him, whom was becoming likened to a wild dog, freed himself, and with his feet pushed himself out of the helicopter, thinking Lund would do the same, but he didn’t he evidently couldn’t swim, or if he could, he couldn’t think to swim, or hold his breath long enough to free himself from the wreckage, to swim to freedom.

Atwood was now on the white sandy beach, headlights on him, he was exhausted, and lay there resting.

Next the Sergeant was on the beach, got to his knees, took several deep breaths, “Where’s Lund?” asked the Specialist.

“Where you left him, read the report…!” said Carter, and the sergeant simply walked away, got into his jeep, and went out to where the incoming rockets were hitting, which was: Ammo Dump Alpha.

“Wake up Morgan,” said his wife, Ming: “You’re having a nightmare again,” she told him, “did you get to the end this time?” she asked.

“Yes, I think so,” he said “I left him behind in the helicopter, like Atwater did, I mean Atwood…I’ll explain it all another day, how about breakfast?”

“Yes, I’ll make it, I’m just finishing up on your coffee, the way you like it; are we going to the Russian Market today?” she asked, Morgan nodded his head yes, looked towards the window, the sun was shinning through it, birds were chirping, and then it completely dawned on him, he completely realized it was 1986, not 1971, and he was not in Vietnam, he was in his home, in Cambodia, and his wife was asking simple things, little daily things, things we overlook, in the mass of things that we’ve already stored for who knows when, like old pictures thrown in a box, to be explored another day, or thrown out.

See Dennis’ web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com

Every so often I get an email, on Howard Stern, why I don’t care for his kind of entertainment. I get actually both kinds of emails, negative and positive. Negative saying, I should like him, and how great he is, and I should not write about him negatively, which I have not for years, and positive folks saying: your right he is a bad news, bad entertainment, a bad example for our society, especially our kids.

Years ago when I was writing for a website, I wrote several articles on him, basically saying what everyone would expect a Christian to write.

I said in essence, we have a lot of folks out there laughing at his sick and dirty jokes, and his TV sketches which where pats on the girls butt, and his homosexual overtones, and friends coming to his station to get on TV, and show all they could in a filthy way; So the question comes up again, why don’t I care for him or his entertainment. I’m a Christian, that should settle it and that should really settle it, but for some folks out there it doesn’t.

His followers, which I hear are 10-million, so Howard claims, want me to embrace him. I think I could pray for him, but embrace him is a little too much. And if he really has 10-million followers, we can all see why there is an issue out there, we got a lot of folks liking what he stands for, and that is filth, and we all know that. He knows that, I know that, and you reading this know that. What you put into your mind, is what is going to come out of your mouth sooner or later.

Nothing new: he does not talk on the virtues of life, or the sanctity of womanhood, or the love of children, or the need for Godly people, it is to the contrary, he talks about women being machines, and usable for sex and other pleasures, as men can be also. He has no virtues so he leaves them out of his talks, and just puts in jokes and puns, and children, I would guess are no better than dogs to him, except when he goes home and puts on the daddy play. He talks about alcoholism as if it is a nice escape, and he demonstrates his morbid issues, like William Burroughs did in his books and Allen Ginsberg has in his poetry. They all belong to the same sick club, and they infect our society, especially the children that end up listening to those around them, and hear that he is there idol, hero, and to be honest if that is the best anyone can come up with for a hero, we are really in deep mud: many folks think this person is a champion for the freedom of speech (which his folks would like to take from me, if they could, since I do not embrace him), when in essence he and they are the sick part of society. But freedom of speech, is not what he uses, he uses the weak side of man’s brain, he knows the psychological part of it well, and he feeds it, like one feeds a bull before the matador slaughters it. He knows he’s not going to Heaven, and doesn’t believe in hell, so he is free to infect society with this fitly virus, and he does.

In conclusion, let me say, I do with people would stop bringing his name up to me, he offers nothing to mankind, nothing I really want to write about, only to the devil in man does he feed, and we have enough of that, what he offers, without his input. And so, to those who have written me using his name, I hope this once and for all puts it as a settlement, he will get his due in due time, and he is not worth anymore of my time, of course, you already know this, you just want to hear an echo of my displease with such folks. You can comb the internet and find out the other comments I’ve had on him years ago, that should feed your hunger. Now if this offends you, I can’t figure out why, Howard writes much worse than I. And don’t worry folks, your hero is still alive and among you, and the devil is waiting.

See Dennis’ web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com

The multi talented actress ‘Madonna’ is not unknown celebrity. The 50 years old gorgeous lady has made her immense presence felt in various artistic areas. She is an American pop singer-songwriter, multi-instrumentalist, record producer, actress and author. She was born in Detroit, Michigan but moved to New York to pursue her career in ballet. Her mother Madonna Loiuse was a French Canadian descent and her father Silvio Tony P. Ciccone was an Italian American. At the age of 30, she lost her mother because of the breast cancer and her father married to the home keeper. In 1983, she started her career as a solo recording artist with the release of her self titled album. Madonna has always been regarded as the ‘Queen of Pop’.

She is the actor who made her acting debut with the low budget films. She has featured in the several hit Hollywood movies like Dick Tracy, A League of Their Own and lots more. Her movie Evita has earned her a Golden Globe Award for Best Actress. Moreover, she got her name written in Guinness World Record lists as the ‘World’s most successful female recording artist of all time’ and the top earning female singer in the World with approximately $400 million who sold over 200 million albums worldwide. Her looks and dressing sense during live performances and in music videos has been adopted by young girls and women.

A demo tape of the tracks like born to Be Live and the Breakfast Club has influenced the Mark Kamins who signed Madonna for her first single Everybody which became a huge hit in 1982. After that her each album hit the box office with full bang. The successful albums are Physical Attraction, Holiday, Lucky Star.

Madonna is a passionate woman who is determined to mesmerize the media and public with her songs and dance forever.

For more information, click here http://www.celebritylatestgossip.com/

We’ve seen the headlines: Hulk vs Superman, Hulk vs Wolverine, Hulk vs the Thing, and, basically, Hulk vs other superheroes. Classics that piqued our imagination. Who’s the strongest? Who’s the best fighter? Who’ll win?

Time and time again the Hulk has proven that he’s more than a match to most, if not all, super heroes. But how does he fair against gods? Lucky for us, there are two gods in the Marvel comic book universe, one from Olympus and one from Asgard, who walk among mortals and they’ve scuffled with the Hulk on a few occasions.

Let’s take a look at some of these match-ups between Marvel powerhouses:

HULK vs THOR

Thor, the Norse god of war and thunder, is a popular immortal in the Marvel universe. Banished to Earth to learn humility by his father, Odin, King of Asgard, Thor is entrapped in the body of a frail human, Donald Blake, who depends on a cane to walk around. The full power of Thor is only unleashed when Donald Blake taps his cane ceremoniously to summon the thunder god.

Thor’s match ups with the Hulk are exciting. Fans are even hoping for a big screen brawl between the two. Some of the popular issues include the following:

* AVENGERS #3. Hulk and Thor first fought in Avengers No 3 when Thor and the Avengers tried to contain the rampaging Hulk. Joining the fray is the Sub-Mariner who aligned himself with the Hulk and fought the Earth’s Mightiest Superhero. During one of the battles, the Hulk and Sub-Mariner doubled team Thor and wrestled him down. The Hulk transformed back into Banner and got away before his identity as the Hulk was revealed. The rest of the Avengers showed up to gang up against Sub-Mariner who retreated away to fight another day.

* THOR #385. One of the more fun fights between Hulk and Thor. In THOR No 385, Hulk challenged Thor to fight without the hammer Mjollnir. Thor accepted reluctantly after Hulk took on a hostage. He casted off his hammer and began fighting the Hulk. In the beginning, Thor thought about running away until the Hulk’s rage subsides and transforms back to Banner so no one would get hurt. But pride got the best of him and he continued to fight the Hulk in turn destroying buildings, wreaking havoc in the streets, and risking lives including a bus full of school children. Thor showed the invincibility of a god as he refused to go down after receiving a few beat downs from the Hulk. The Hulk even slammed him with a train. In the end, Hulk realized that it was futile to continue fighting as his anger began to subside and he leaped away. Thor was left alone by himself but lusted for more.

* HULK 2001 ANNUAL. In order to avoid hurting innocents, Thor transported himself and the Hulk into another dimension to fight. In their first brawl upon arrival, Thor was thrown into a mountain by the Hulk and the rocks collapsed and buried him. The Hulk proceeded to leap away to find out about the new world. But at the same time, he managed to wreak havoc among its savage native inhabitants. Deciding that bringing the Hulk to the new world was a mistake, Thor found the Hulk and knocked him out with a lightning bolt. Traveling in between dimensions, the Hulk managed to transform back to Bruce Banner. But before Thor could drop him off in a secured military installation, Banner transformed back to Hulk who proceeded to wail on Thor. The Hulk walked away not knowing if Thor was still alive.

A few more releases tell the tales of clashes between these two power giants. It’s important to note that Stan Lee himself meant for the brute strength of the Hulk to be matched, if at all, not by humans, but by gods. But is there a limit to the Hulk’s strength? Remember, he gets stronger as he gets angrier.

The rest of this article can be seen at Planet Comic Book Radio. It includes a list of Hulk vs Hercules comic book reviews, pictures of cover pages and comic strip panels.

Planet Comic Book Radio is a weekly talk show and blog on everything comic books.

It seems all’s not well between Prince Harry and his girlfriend Chelsy Davy.

Recently, the Royal’s ladylove walked out following a humiliating public bust-up. The row blew up at a charity polo match just as the prince was about to take the field. “Chelsy sat there for about two minutes with a face like thunder and then she walked out,” the Daily Star quoted a source, as saying.

Harry knew about it when he couldn’t find Chelsy at the exclusive Beaufort Polo Club near Tetbury, Glos. “He grabbed his phone and started texting like mad but she didn’t surface again and he left the club as soon as he could,” the source added.

Earlier, there were rumours that the couple was arguing over his lifestyle as an Army officer. While Chelsy sticks to her studies at Leeds University, Harry can’t resist going clubbing with his pals and posted his profile at a wealthy men dating club named SeekWealthy.com. His picture is firstly recongnised by Christina, a user of this dating club.

“She kept saying she needed to take some time out to re-establish herself,” London’s The Mail on Sunday quoted a source as saying. “She still loves him, but she feels she needs to carve an identity as her own person rather than as Prince Harry’s girlfriend.” The source added, “This is not an over-for-good situation.”

A friend of Chelsy’s said, “Harry is incorrigible. He is at that age when he likes drinking with his mates and Chelsy will have to resign herself to that or it will be over.”

http://www.millionairecupid.com

Whether you’re starting out, or just thinking about becoming an actor, you’re going to need to know how to break into the business and make a living as an actor! Chances are you’ve been sitting in a theater watching a movie, or at home watching TV, and the thought of you becoming an actor crosses your mind. Well my friend, you’re not alone. Everyday thousands of people just like you dream of becoming an actor.

But breaking into showbiz takes a little doing… let me correct that, a lot of doing.

Every day, thousands of people think about starting an acting career. Some want to just break away from their mundane lives but don’t know where or how to start. Some feel they are ready to expand their field beyond their local community theaters. Still others… the list of personal reasons could go on and on.

But there’s a catch…

Every day, most of these people do nothing about their dream. Maybe they’re not near the movie hubs; maybe they lack training, or just are not sure whether they would like to pursue their acting dream.

The acting business is just that… a business where you are the product that you are marketing. So, just like any other business, learn to package and market the product.

Perhaps all you need is a push in the right direction, a chance to explore your talents. Yes, there are plenty of acting books out there but nothing beats first-hand instruction by someone who has been there, done that, is teaching it, and is still doing it. And who is more than willing to share their expertise with you.

Here’s a thought. Look for actors helping actors systems that you can mold and apply to your acting career, thus making learning the craft of acting a lot easier. Search the net for actors, acting, actors helping actors, actors on acting, etc.

Becoming a good actor will require time, dedication and effort on your part. I’m sure we have all heard, at one time or another, phrases like this;

Acting is easy.
I can do that.
How hard can it be to be an actor?
Or someday I’ll be an actor.

What these statements reflect is a lack of understanding of what it takes to be an actor. Rest assured that one-of-these-days and someday are never found on any calendar.

We all know that acting is not easy; it’s an art form that has to be learned. But leaning it does not guarantee you an “in” into the industry. It just better prepares you for what’s to come.
So, if you still desire to be an actor, by all means, go for it!

About the Author: Fernando Rio is a working producer in Florida. He’s editor in chief of An Actors Life for Me website. As well as the creator of an Actor’s Audio Course ‘Becoming a Working Actor.” Feel free to check it out here: http://www.actorsonactingonline.com

He is also the author of several programs that teach how to make money with your voice. For information drop an email at keyactors@bellsouth.net