Driver, T. C. (6 page)

“I explained that earlier” I said. “Our Spanish neighbors to the south did not have much success with boatloads of population growth or migration. Mexico is a European style serf/slavery system. This enslavement of indigenous, primitive cultures is very expensive. Killing off the natives is always best; even Biblical. The Spanish used the Great American Desert to lower the cost of their slave camps; a natural barrier; less people pointing guns. The Lords in Mexico had to cut back the size of their slave camp enterprise because of a flood of Englishmen, and the “close by good land' made Texas too costly”

“What if Teddy Roosevelt had no Rough Riders in Cuba? Of what difference would it make today?”

“Would World War I ever have started if the British had still been united with America? World War I caused World War II. That's how it works. Would Hitler have even tried? During both World Wars, Germany hoped that America would not fight. Germany played with America's divided affections, but we all stayed British in the end.”

“Hitler was evil, Cornelius”, spoke up Tommy Rosenberg.

“Yes, he was, Tommy” I said. “The dark angel himself was Hitler's council. I'm sure of that fact. Yes, evil. He was a fascist socialist, humanist and anti-church. But so was our ally in Russia, Joseph Stalin. Our ally killed thirty million people. Five times the killing of Adolf Hitler. Death is the trademark of all democratic, socialist elites, also the banner and calling card of the dark angel. Death and rebellion against God go hand in hand. Our modern democratic, socialist party in America is the party of death. America and Mao's China are tied for the worst of the worst in all of human history. That is unless you count the Great Whore of Babylon, the Roman Church herself. I'm talking now about socialist leaders. Then, America and China are history's two worst killers by far. God will not be mocked.”

Kishia started crying out loud and screaming: “That can't be true, Cornelius. My Mother is a democrat!”

“God is no respecter of persons, Kishia.'I knew you in your Mother's womb'. God said this, not me. Jesus will be our judge. Every knee shall bow. Every tongue will confess. God put his people back in the Holy land. God did not need England, and God does not need America. Our
  
God could have used anybody. When our President Osoma stopped supporting Israel, look what happened to the old USA. We're finished. Yes, finished! Europe is trying to run the world and is united under a young German EU leader named Hein Bruch. He is a godless socialist just like Hitler. America herself voted for a fascist, humanist, Islamic socialist Osoma only sixty years after ten thousand young suckers died at Normandy, supposedly to save the world from Hitler. If they only could have seen the future and known that their own stupid, ignorant, spoiled brat grandchildren would vote for another socialist killer, with word for word Hitler's very same platform. Would they have bothered storming those cliffs? Those poor, dumb bastards in World War II died for nothing. Our freedom has been pissed away. All the graves in France are now pointless. A few poor, old men still survive, living to see the mockery of their own sacrifice.”

“One thing that did happen of note in World War II was the A-bomb it was a big money maker. This bomb scared the hell out of the war merchants and ruling elites. Mature, old, powerful men now had their own butts on the line. Fear slowed down the old 'boys fighting in a field game', but not for long. Old men the world over soon used smaller low-key wars like Korea, Vietnam, Afghanistan and Sudan to keep the 'boys in the field' game alive. Always stopping the conflict before it got out of hand; meaning men over forty years old started dying. Nowadays, we mostly bomb the poor, dumb little bastards of the 'third world'. We do this for practice, sport, population control, to sell arms, to make money, and of course, to save the planet from being overrun with billions of more 'poor, dumb bastards'.
 
Our ruling elites can always find men of low moral character, or of brain-washable will, who will kill for money. Men like you and me. We kill, or thin the herd, of unwanted population groups as defined by the elite authority in power. Men like us work for the likes of Castro, Stalin, Mao, and Osoma. You name the leader they are all cut from the same cloth. All have the same evil high priest. Guess what, children? It's not Jesus. It's not the Holy Bible. These men deal in death and lies. Not truth, life, freedom or liberty.”

My many young students left the Gospel Cafe that night, off the coast of East Africa, encouraged once again to a life of military service and the Godly importance of our ship's mission. This mission of killing off all the Africans to save the world! That is the least I could do for them.

On ship, I loved to listen to the many sounds, and look out over my high deck porch railing. At my quarters, during nights and early mornings, the smell of the ocean uplifted my heart. Often a beautiful star filled sky dazzled my eyes. Lou Goodliar roomed down the deck from me, he too enjoyed the solitude. Often, we made hand gestures, for it was too far to shout.
 
The silence was broken only by the B44s screaming off the deck and the much quieter drones coming in, and or stretching for the sky. Life was good! I enjoyed life aboard the Ark. Anyone would. Well, any sailor.

Most days of 'wartime' were lazy and uneventful. We did start making manned bombing runs to small port cities and villages. Targets were picked with care, but not by 'CARE' (ha-ha).

These targets had to be found by satellite; a house here; a dock or boat there. One target was a lone dish antenna. Two of our B44s would be lost and two more out of service by the end of our four-month long deployment at Gumbo Station.

Our longest 'feet dry' bombing run that was done with manned B44s was less than a week before the 'Big Attack' as we called it. I assumed that we, the ship I mean, had approached the shore too close to keep our bombing mission 'still night', which made it possible for the ship to be attacked. Twelve heavily loaded B44s with no cannons and no missiles, just one drop tank and two bombs on each hard point took off before midnight. Big, ugly looking cluster fire bombs, over one thousand pounds each, slowed our small, light planes. This was a 'long run' with our new hydrogen 'cold fuel' because hydrogen does not push you as far as the old 'dirty stuff' could. We were feet dry for over an hour before letting go and pulling skyward and south. Whatever we hit caused many secondary explosions. There was even some old time fireworks type anti-aircraft fire. That old gun fire didn't even start until after we were turned home; our target bright orange ablaze. I could not make out what we hit, but it was near a pretty big town. The fireworks were beautiful against the end of night mountain skyline. Of course, this night was quite different on the other side of those thin, early morning clouds, down on the killing side, on the crying side.

Young student pilot Roger Mensink was my 'wing man' that morning. We took off together; five and six behind ready deck. Only two top student pilots of our now five (Harry Potter being dead), had been picked for the long bombing mission. Later, on board ship, I commended Roger on his flying skills. We two talked that night at length, about the mission and world events.

“What's all this about, Cornelius?” Roger asked.

“What is what, Roger?” I jokingly inquired.

Roger shook his head and spoke. “You know, Sir. Our targets, who are they? Why this bombing mission. What the hell are we doing it for?”

I answered softly. “You mean who's in charge? Who are we? Who's paying us? Who's on what side?”

“Yes sir! You're old Navy like my Dad. He says we must be the United Nations or something.”

I bowed my head and spoke. “Roger, I just don't know. We are not the United Nations, I'm sure of that. Roger, I believe we work for a private company with many countries owning stock. Who's paying the freight? Who's in charge? Wish I knew! That's all above my pay grade, Roger. Way above. I'm paid well and my expenses are small. My retirement is set now because of this voyage. I could go home today. I stay on to training you men for the money. Also, I love to fly! That may be wrong. I'm not proud of myself. This ship has been a good deal for me.
 
I’m earning the highest pay of my life.”

Roger was a well read, yet still young man. This was rare in his 'idiot, brain dead' supposedly 'high-tech' generation. We talked about history back through the Romans to present day. Talking into the late night, sipping red wine that his Dad had 'shipped him' at great expense. I gave him my 'each western generation sends its young people on two year missions of bombing the poor, dumb bastards of the world' speech. Roger said maybe it’s in our blood. We've been doing the same thing over and over in history. Each generation asking, but not knowing the reason why. Roger then spoke my own words back to me about Afghanistan and Vietnam. One hundred years of western troops and now letting the Chinese control it all. When we
  
look back through history and see decade after decade country after country, King after President after Queen. Why the blood? Why the money?
 
Is there no apparent good or sane reason?

Roger started asking the 'wrong' questions, both in college and in flight briefings. Yes, Roger was, I am sure infected with my own skepticism about the worthiness and Godliness of our ship's mission.

Roger Mensink was the one and only pilot and first B44 lost during the soon upcoming 'Big Attack' by our unknown, unseen enemy. Was his loss fate? Could his B44 have gone down too fast to eject? Could small arms fire really have taken the plane down? Or was it Joe Coe’s doing? Or even Chief of Staff Friday? I didn't want to think so. I kept these thoughts to my self, but I knew Roger also had them when he died.

Another grueling two full months passed by after the famous 'Big Attack' before our deployment at Gumbo Station would come to an end. Gumbo was four full months of hitting Africa hard and ugly. We grew ever so weary of war, killing, destruction and blood. I knew the time partly because of my payments 'on line' to my ex-wife Patty back in Virginia. My Patty was the true love of my life! Oh, how I missed her! Each third night when going off duty, I'd call her before heading to the ship's Gospel Cafe, where I'd often stay late. My big, round table was comfortable and relaxed. I became known as the anti-professor or old school. I was soon nick-named by the students. Old school was their favorite.

This night at my table, Billy Cash and his date, Pretty Penny, both honor students, started off conversation about Osama’s economic stimulus policy. The latest being stimulus number seventeen. Their professor had a theory on his screen during class. His screen used digital chalk.

“Billy” I said. “Please listen very closely. The fear of God is the beginning of wisdom. Your professor is an ungodly fool; a blooming idiot. Just like the men who invented government stimulus. Did he talk about a sick pervert named John Maynard Keynes? Or a book called the General Theory of Money?

“No, Cornelius. He just mentioned Keynesian economic models” said Billy.

“Yes, Billy Cash” I continued. “That's old John Maynard alright. Your sick, progressive professor thinks John is a smart man. In truth, he is a pedophile pervert in full rebellion against God; a fool. I wouldn't follow his directions to the grocery store. Much less let him lead the economic policies of America. What he teaches about fiat based currency, money and banking is a perversion against the teachings of God. Just like his sick lust for sex with young boys. His economic teachings have never worked. They lead to disaster every time they are tried. When I say the old man's a pervert, I'm talking about old men raping five to ten year old boys. Really sick! Look up 'Ole John' on the web tonight and see all of his socialist, communist friends in Europe and Russia. The very type of banking system these ungodly men produced is what keeps modern slavery and serfdom flourishing in this world today. Free men, living in free republics, using real money does not allow slave camps and ungodly kingdoms to grow and prosper. So God's teaching on money, life, work, marriage and sex is always rebelled against. His Holy Bible is always hated.”

“Billy, this is the basics of how the system works; how John Maynard Keynes teaching have evolved and become destructive. How he still causes pain and misery long after his death. First start off with a ruling government authority, either a socialist elite or a royal owner of a slave camp province. Note that this does not happen in a free republic. This ruler sells the agricultural or industrial wages of his captive serfs or slaves to international groups or companies. They move in and start production of products for sale in Europe or America. Any 'hard currency' will do. Let's say he takes dollars for the goods he ships. This local tyrant pays his workers in some worthless, home currency he prints in his basement, usually made with pictures of himself or his wife (ha-ha). His slaves can't buy anything worldwide because they are paid starvation wages in phony money, which is only good at the tyrant's company store. Like the old coal miner's song ' Sixteen Tons' and what do you get? You have heard horror stories about people working for wages of $2.00/month. This fiat money slave system is why. This ruler, or king, then makes profits in dollars and holds them in his bank, making him a servant of our bank and our government. Our leaders will now lend him any amount of printed dollars, even put troops in his country, to keep him in power. If his slaves do a good job, Americans are then shipped products at very cheap, high profit rates. We send this ruler fiat money i.e.; 'pictures of our favorite presidents'. If he demanded gold, we could not buy things from him very often, because we are broke. Real money speaks truth and says man's most hated word: no. so, this ruler accepts fiat money; our just printed, paper money. When this ruler comes to America for a visit, he deposits his profits of dollars in our National Bank. These deposits of his are falsely called the U.S. National Debt. His deposit slip, or 'CD' is falsely called a Treasury bond. To a bank, a deposit is a liability. That interest must be paid on. A loan is the sale of money for profit. Our U.S. Bank (privately owned) is called the Federal Reserve Bank. It lends out the slave owner's deposit for a profit, but we the taxpayers, must pay the interest on his deposit. Why?
 
Why ask why? The people who own our Bank also control our government. Yes, America does have a King; the stock owners of the Federal Reserve Bank. Who are they? What do they hold in reserve? I don't know. Do you?”