Driver, T. C. (5 page)

“In the interest of full disclosure and truth; bankers and masters of the new industrial wave in England were able to 'enslave', or (take all profit for themselves) from the plantation owners of America. Yes, the slave owners were going broke using slavery. The selling of 'finished goods' by England, the lending of money and the selling of insurance had put most New World Plantations into a money losing position. Large Colonial plantations had borrowed so much money from England that they could never hope to pay it back. This would be impossible. They bought fancy goods from China; and everyday goods from England. Revolution was their only way out of slavery, their only way out of debt. Our American revolution was truly a monetary banking and tax revolution of and by large land owners, hardly supported by the general public at all. Most people in America loved the British Crown and were not anti-British. The masters of slavery were going broke using slavery and fighting another level of slavery themselves. American slavery was dead, with or without the soon coming 'war between the states' or civil war. It would have ended sooner, not later, under the British Crown. In Europe, selling and trading with the giant slave kingdoms of the east, both China and India, is where the big money was at. Just like today. The kings of the east are the world leaders of slavery and cast systems. This Great East trade was the reason Columbus sailed in the first place.”

Kishia did not like my history lesson. She did not want to see the truth. Truth can be very upsetting.

Three weeks after Sarah's return from shopping was when the 'big attack' happened. Our ship's unknown, unseen, nobody, weak foe was able to fight back. One of our B44 planes, while incoming to the ship, was hit by small arms fire from an armada of small motor boats. Then, in an act of seemingly brazen, crazed stupidity, twenty-six motor craft charged toward the Ark, presumably each with explosives on board. A very fast, low-flying missile was miss-fired by our attackers. It skimmed the water just in front of the Great Ark, missing the bow by only one hundred yards.
 
Then General Quarters was sounded, sending everyone scrambling. All hands were called into service. My B44 plane was second in line downstairs, behind the two planes on ready deck. My little plane was weighed down with full cannons, sidewinder type missiles and a large experimental fuel tank that we were using for the first time. Two solid rocket boosters came built into the big fuel tank to help 'kick' its extra weight off the deck. Only one of the two boosters worked, or fired, so my little
  
B44s flight path sagged as she screamed off the ship. Ground effect or wave effect was put to full use by the plane's long, straight, out-stretched, glider like wings. I almost decided to cut the tank loose. We veteran pilots climbed to only five thousand feet and then folded up like a bird of prey; diving full throttle at the approaching motor boats below. The live heads-up computer display and huge bubble canopy combined onto a truly joyful, and deadly, weapons system. Laser guided missiles awaited my red button thumb commands. Each time I dived, I picked out one boat target for missiles and another for cannon fire. With patience and timing, I could take out two boats on 50% of my dives. Just past computer tone, I would fire missile first, then turn only slight degrees, affording the second target only a few seconds of cannon fire before and during my 'pull-out'. Bells and auto-pilot would jump in if I skimmed the waves too close. This battle lasted only twenty minutes tops, so my big tank was not needed. All surface boats, including five or six fishing vessels, and two unknowns, all within sixty miles of ship were destroyed. Our B44 planes flew so close together while hunting our targets, that twice my on board computer took over my flight controls. This sudden, unexpected 'G' force jolt was very unnerving and hurt my back. This system worked well, I suppose, because we could not run into each other, even if we tried. Flocks of B44s could fly together 'like birds', all changing direction at once. This was very dangerous because our little planes, although subsonic, could easily kill the pilot by simply making too fast a maneuver in flight. Only computer controls kept the plane within human limits; from snapping our necks or splashing our faces against the inside of our helmet. This bat like flying ability made us very hard to shoot down,

I learned later that only ten planes had gotten off the ship and into battle. Three rockets, each much smaller than the first big miss had reached the Ark's flight deck. Fires broke out on deck involving two different types of tow motor trucks. It took nine minutes to clear the main elevators, three more minutes to get planes ready. Too late to join the fun! I mean the fight! Our enemy had done the impossible. The little bastards had hit us back. This fact awakened the sleeping, brain dead masses of students on ship, but of course, not for long. I was credited with seven 'kills' during the big attack. For a while, I was the talk of my shipmates. Alas, the phrase, 'all glory is fleeting' is well known to this old Navy pilot.

That night, at the ship's snack bar, I met Ricky Powell, a young graduate student from VPI in Blacksburg. A nice enough guy (a nuke); he laughed a lot after each phrase of conversation. This habit of his was very irritating and unnerving. Ricky didn't like the attention Joe's daughter Sarah was showing to me. He talked about his older wife and their horses near Rocky Mount.

“Hello, Old Timer” bellowed Ricky. “I heard you had quite a party in the sky yesterday (hahahahaha). “Your name's Cornelius, right? Great to meet you! Hahahahaha I'd buy you a beer, but I'm at my limit hahahahaha.

“Yes, you and I both” I said.
 
I then smiled while mocking his laugh.

“You spend a lot of time with Sarah Coe. Too much.” said Ricky. “What's up with that, Doc? Between you two, I mean.”

“Sarah is my sex slave, Ricky” I laughed. “I rent her out, but only to officers, though. Sorry for your loss, young chap. She's not as expensive as you might think.” hahahahaha
Cornelius mocking Ricks laugh again

“You know what happens to bucks that get too close to a Coe doe, Old Corny? Yeah, he takes them out; He thins the herd” answered Ricky, his voice cracking. Hahahahaha

Ricky then referred to his old friend, Michael Lang (Harry Potter) who had fallen to his death earlier, his body landing not far from Rick's own (nuke) workstation at the bottom of our ship. Ricky stood up from his barstool and spoke in a drunken Irish accent. “A double-trouble warning that was, my man. And this lad got the message loud and clear! He looked bad, Cornelius. Not a word on the way down. That ain't natural if you get my drift.
Hahahahaha Watch your step Pops, if Daddy doesn’t get you one of us young bucks might; besides, Sarah's too much for an old bull like you to handle” (hahahahaha).

“Give it up, son” I said. The Coe girls do! You better stay down in your nuke dungeon. You're way out of your league up here. Don't try to play with the grown-ups”

Ricky chugged the last swallow of his red plastic cup and slammed it down on the bar. “One really needs a glass mug to slam effectively” I said. He then bid me a silent jester adieu. No silly laugh this time. Except from me! Hahahahahah

That night at the Gospel Cafe, my big round corner table filled up with young eager beaver, military types and their dates. Lifers, they're often called. Lou Goodliar, a stubborn old Christian professor and his tall, vivacious, out-going, young professor friend, Tommy Mute, both pulled up chairs and blocked in the booth. “Great! A captive audience” I said and ordered a round of drinks.
  
This being my known custom and habit, drinks were now often expected by my guests. (I get a % deal off my bar tab from the Gospel Cafe manager, but don't tell anybody! The students tip well when they think I pay full price) 1
^st
Lt and Rev. Lou Liken Goodliar, retired, nick-named 'Loud Lying Lou' by his students, started off our conversation.

“Cornelius, they never let you make any money until you're forty or older. That's the rule” said Lou, while eating chips.

“Yes, Lou, I agree” I said. “One group of suckers taken advantage of in every society is young people.” It's a known scientific fact that young boys can be easily talked into or made to do all types of stupid, idiotic things. Like charging beaches and scaling cliffs, all against machine gun fire; or the historical favorite: stabbing each other with bayonets. The boys are always suckered by the older, mature, male power structure. These mature males are called names like Sergeant, General, President or Captain. The young suckers, who are mostly working class, are called Private, Infantry or Hero. A few really dumb, upper class leaders called 'Loutenants' are needed for some spice (ha-ha). These young boys are always on a great mission or cause, often for God, to save the day, the Fatherland or Motherland, little sister, the flag or the world. Whatever sounds good or popular at the time? These young suckers are baited by a chance to be welcomed into a state of full manhood, or to be no longer boys. Never are they offered much money. Young boys can be easily suckered by ruling mature men of any and all tribes and cultures, between the ages of twelve and eighteen. After that, the young door of stupidity quickly closes. In a few, short years these same men would simply laugh at the old men trying to talk them into mischief and will not listen.

The young women are of course also easy prey to being put into arranged marriages during these ages. To become breeders; but only if you raise them right. They are sold off to the highest bidder. To successful, mature men or their sons. This is the way of the world in most cultures.

Within a few years, both the young men and women mature and are much harder to fool. The old system has all but been broken down now by government schools teaching kids for years not to listen to their parents, especially and particularly, their Fathers. Also teaching against the bible and laughing at its 'sex only in marriage'.
 
They teach rather to marry in more mature years and to just screw around for about ten years. By then, many are set in their ways and do not breed families at all, destroying the family system and lowering birth rates. This was the goal of humanist religion leaders in our government schools in the first place. In all of history, throughout all ages, in every tribe, older men have the younger 'bucks' charge across the fields while shooting at each other or stabbing each other with bayonets. The bayonet is the all time, cost effective favorite because it saves bullets. These young fools basically kill each other off for no other reason than their Father's monetary gain, or land. War of course, also gets rid of excess young bucks, this saving some breeding age women for second wives to older men.

If you think I overstate my point, let me say it plain and simple. None of these young boys fighting out in a field has ever had any real point or purpose.
 
Their fighting, win or lose does not change the world or make any difference whatsoever, except to make the elite social class members money and to get rid of excess, unneeded and unwanted young boys. Only when 'warfare' is a money loser or is 'brought home', like with the bombing of cities, does the mature man talk peace. Yes, only when their butt is put on the line.

“What about the brave men at Normandy in World War II, Cornelius? Are you saying they were suckers, or heroes?” asked student Brenda Saunders.

“All suckers, Brenda” I answered. “We must be brave enough now, each of us, to face the truth.”

“Let us look at all American wars. All of them are boys fighting in a big field. What does that matter in the end? How could it change anything? You men go fight and see if anything changes. What if the revolutionary war had not been fought? It wasn't even popular at the time. OK, once from the beginning:”

“Just suppose the revolutionary war had not been fought. What if we had stayed with England? Are the people of England very much less free or different than Americans today? How about Canadians or Australians?
 
Just imagine that first 'boys in a field' stupidity had not taken place, and then of course the War of 1812, also. How many extra young bucks would have been running around sowing their seed? Our main weakness now, in the West, compared to the slave camps in the East, is our under- population. When projecting economic and military power both India and China outnumber us three to one. There are simply not enough of us to matter.”

“Next in history comes the War Between the States. Would we have bothered with the war if we were still part of England?

“What about slavery, Cornelius? The evils of slavery?” shouted Kishia and two other young students.

“We've already talked about the fact that the so-called Civil War did nothing to end slavery. Think, Kishia! Did slavery continue in Canada? Or continue in England,
  
in Australia? What caused slavery to end where there was no Civil War? I tell you; young, idiot boys, who fight in a field has never changed the world. How could it?”

“What about the Alamo, Cornelius?” said Josie.

“Yes, remember the Alamo!” shouted Kirk, raising his glass. Josie's brown eyes drilled her boyfriend Kirk with evil, angry contempt. He quickly shut his mouth in mid sentence.