Читать книгу The Face of Freedom - Benjamin Vance - Страница 4

He never tired of the gentle “squish, squish, squish” sound his boots made as he slowly walked the third or fourth mile of the damp forest road outside Helena, Montana. It was vaguely like a soft rhythm he and the road had established. Otherwise, he’d kept as quiet as possible and seen a camp robber jay, something that looked like a small weasel and several large doe watching back. A little squirrel followed him up the road at one point, seemingly wanting a handout.

He was in no mood for handouts though. He was a man on a mission. The rich smell of life and death in the thick evergreen rain forest was primeval. His senses welcomed the pleasant reality of his surroundings. This was the way humans were supposed to live. This was Eden. If only he could accept, and believe that.

The twenty first century was still in its teens and the world had become an alien place for the principles he held dear. He meant to change that … if possible. He had a calling. He would succeed or die trying. The world would be better after he was dead, or at least no worse off than it was. He had to try; with every fiber of his body and his soul, he had to try.

It was sometime near 5:00 p.m. when he saw his first listening post; probably manned by two people; not entirely hidden, but barricaded well. They didn’t stop or challenge him; they just watched and radioed ahead. This was still National Forest land, so they wisely chose not to stop him. He figured he would meet the barrier about half a mile on. Not far enough, but these minute-man groups all had their own methods and protocols.

He came upon a beautifully clear, narrow, gravel bottomed creek that crossed the road, and tiny brown trout went shooting away from him, mimicking their powerful grown salmon cousins. Not wanting to muddy it up, he easily jumped its smallest width, continuing his march.

He soon came to the entrance, indicating to all encroachers; this was the private land of the “Freedom Force Rangers”... strength unknown, but intentions admirable, he guessed. He stopped, stood quietly and waited for acknowledgement. It came in the form of a young, clean shaven man in his late twenties. He was armed with a 9mm semi-auto pistol. It was holstered in a black plastic, quick-draw. He was not threatening. He didn’t have to be, since the walker and the young man were being watched by two riflemen about a hundred meters to his right and left.

“How are you sir?” offered the young man.

“I‘m just fine, thank you. I’m here to help save our country; can I come in and be sheltered?”

“Yes sir, you can. Are you armed?”

“In my backpack.”

“Please don’t attempt to remove it until we’re well within the confines of our haven. We were hoping you’d come our way.”

“Thank you. I’m honored to be here and honored you can welcome me.”

He’d visited seventeen of these “Minute Man” posts in the last six months, and was beginning to draw attention from local and state governments. His speeches and his charisma were welcomed by many, but also feared by those in power. He had to do what he had to do. So far he’d been blessed with only a few close calls.

There’d been that black “County-Mounty” in Wyoming who stopped him on the road to Greybull. He’d been insistent the walker get in the car and be transported to another location near the Montana and Wyoming borders. He’d been very direct with the officer and asked why he didn’t want him in Wyoming. The officer guessed who he was and suggested he was a bigot.

The walker explained he didn’t care about the color of a person’s skin. What he cared about was whether a person was a patriotic American. The back and forth conversation lasted ten minutes and resulted in the officer finally letting him continue. It really was a mystery, since he’d never been a particularly convincing orator. His sincere conviction may have been the key. He was preaching the sermon of “we”. Politicians had been preaching the sermon of “us and them” for far too long. He would change that … if he could.

He followed the young minute man to the central meeting hall. It was a well-constructed log structure with thick walls and roof. It should have been concrete. The other smaller buildings, which included living quarters, sanitary facilities and what looked to be a dining hall, were far too close together. It was understandable, since the folks involved with these organizations usually felt marginalized or forgotten by their government. If they only knew! Still, these organizations gave them something to belong to. And they always wanted to be too close together. That’s why the buildings were usually huddled up and vulnerable.

Most were not racists, but some were considered so, simply due to their geographic location and love of weapons and military ways. Most were “wannabes”, but there were some brilliant leaders and followers involved; a lot of ex-military. The dangerous ones were the intelligent deviants. He had to walk on egg shells at times, but always seemed to get his message across.

His desire was to consolidate all the minute man or patriot groups under one “organizational umbrella” in order to consolidate political power. He was succeeding; slowly. The leaders were talking and holding combined meetings to discuss strategy, logistics and recruiting. He was reasonably sure one Wyoming Senator was on his side. He and the Senator were alike in patriotism and other ideology, and his aim was to enlist more legislators like him.

He was brought some refreshing fruit drink and a fruit snack and told their elected leader would be with him shortly. Suddenly, he was alone in the cavernous meeting house. It smelled of the forest and of smoke, and of humans. He could hear the distant “pop, pop, pop” of a pistol being shot. The periodic pauses indicated the checking of targets, then the “pop, pop, pop” would start again. Most of these organizations were built around the second amendment right to bear arms, and most of their members loved shooting and hunting. Some just loved getting out of doors.

The various weapons advocates and shooter’s group organizations were always crying “wolf” with regard to second amendment rights being denied. They were right in many instances and kept the members on their toes. Some of the shooter’s organizations had become powerful lobbying groups. They used member contributions to pay Political Action Committee fees for lobbying their cause. Overall it had worked ... so far. America was armed to the teeth, so that any other country having designs on the U.S. would certainly hesitate, based on the fact that their people would get targeted from every bower and creek in the land, much like the colonial revolutionaries had done.

However, if one could slowly remove freedoms from American citizens and make them feel they could only be kept safe by their government, then it might be possible to slowly remove the guts from the second amendment under the guise of “All Americans deserve to feel safe in their homes”. To the walker it begged the question of how much taxes will it take to make them feel safe? How many police, how many video cameras and how many scanners in airports will it take to make them feel safe? William Shakespeare wrote “Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war”. As far as the walker was concerned, the government’s motto was “Cry safety and remove the rule of freedom”.

His thoughts were interrupted by a large swaggering man with a shock of grey hair protruding from his olive drab green cap, and dressed in battle dress camouflage clothing. The guy reminded him of John Wayne. He had a semi-automatic pistol on his side, which as he got closer was revealed to be a 1911 model Colt. He stuck out his hand and delivered an iron grip that tried to crush. When it was returned with the same fierceness, he winced. The walker hoped it had not put the large man off. It hadn’t.

The man said, “God, I love a firm handshake!” He then asked if they could both sit down and talk. The walker was relieved and pleased. He had expected no less, but still… .

The big man introduced himself as Dr. Luke Tarwater. He was a retired gynecologist and said he knew all the gynecologist jokes. They went through the usual, “getting to know each other stuff” and Dr. Tarwater asked the walker if he would address their group that evening. It was Friday and he offered it could start the weekend out in the proper manner. No one there had heard his “sermon” first hand, but all heard about him by then or at least seen a facsimile of his face on the web and read blog reports. He was becoming famous, or perhaps infamous.

The walker said he would be honored to address their group and asked to be given a time. Dr. Tarwater suggested 7:00 p.m. The walker agreed, then asked if he could rest up somewhere for a while. He was given a small, but adequate room off the main hall. It was virtually soundproof. He was delivered some more food, and he prayed for about half an hour.

At six thirty he asked for directions to the latrine, relieved himself and returned to the small room to meditate and change. He came out of the room at 6:55 dressed in black silk pajamas and flip-flops. The chaotic room was over-filled with members, male and female. Several babies whimpered. Youngsters were respectful and disciplined. The room got quiet as he walked to the podium which had been set up especially for his speech. He thanked the crowd quietly and began:

“I am both honored and embarrassed to be here; honored, because I’m talking to American citizens and heroes who love their country; embarrassed, because I would never have chosen this path for myself. One would hope that all Americans of like mind would come together and agree on certain things and that an old man like me would not have to worry about the integrity of our constitution. However, that is not currently the case.

“Our government has become so large, it cannot act. It can only react. It is so fragmented, it cannot be organized. It is so diverse in its directions it can only sit still, print and spend money. There are no politicians who can grasp, control and lead the entire organization. No administration is willing to risk the ire of even a small part of its political base to get our entire country pointed in the right direction.

“The definition of a traitor is, ‘One who betrays one’s country, a cause, or a trust, especially one who commits treason’. Treason is defined as, acting to overthrow one’s government; it is also defined as a violation of allegiance to one’s state or betrayal of trust or confidence. While I do not advocate overthrow of our government, I do advocate justice for those in positions of honor who have betrayed the special trust and confidence placed in them by the American people. I think we all know their names.

“When government organizations are asked to lead, follow or get out of the way; they purposely get in the way. It sometimes takes years for a private American citizen to receive a patent, or just get his or her fair social security compensation after paying into it for forty years. And, don’t try to enter a government building paid for with our taxes, without first going through a security screening process. They call it security; I call it control.

“One cannot inquire to a government organization and expect a timely answer, unless one is very wealthy. I’m sure most of you have tried to contact a local government agency and received the run-around from various demigods. One will never get an answer to a question from an inquiry via government internet, unless satisfied with the FAQs.

“I’m also sure most of you remember when our yearly tax money granted us at least the unfettered entrance to our National Parks. Now we pay to enter those natural shrines; our shrines. If you complain, you’re labeled a trouble maker and either arrested, threatened or both.

“We have become a country of ‘us and them’. How many times have you heard a government official refer to ‘The American People’? Seldom do we hear ‘We the People’. Every administration tries to stay in power; not in service!

He raised his voice, “We-need-to-take-back-control-of ... our ... country!”

He was always met with a standing ovation at this point so he let the chatter die down a bit and then started to use his hands and arms again for accent. He started with a string of words, pausing between each for further emphasis.

“Bearing, courage, decisiveness … dependability, endurance, enthusiasm, initiative, integrity … judgment, justice, knowledge … loyalty, tact and unselfishness; those, ladies and gentlemen are the traits of leaders. How many of those traits can you ascribe to your government leaders? Please think about it. Our military personnel are torn between those traits and their missions each day. They have sworn to live by those traits and if necessary die by them.

“Yet, we have continually sent them into harm’s way without a declaration of war. We have sent them to defend and die for oil and mineral supplies. I, for one, could not care less about a backward country in the Middle East; dominated by a king, Junta or Islamic fascist. The inhabitants do not care for us. In fact they hate us for the most part. I wear these black pajamas to remind me there was no real reason for us to be in Vietnam, but once there; no reason to give up the fight.

“What got us out of Vietnam was not fire power and it wasn’t political power, because the politicians or their sons weren’t dying. We left because the American people stood up and said STOP”---and he held up his hand like a traffic cop before continuing. “We are a powerful force. We are impenetrable when we stand shoulder to shoulder. We need to keep and bear arms and stand together to stop anyone from modifying the second amendment.” (Applause) “And we need to remain vigilant for other constitutional subversions, such as the prohibition against taking bribes in Article one, section nine, and we need to keep a watchful eye on the first, fourth, tenth, and the fourteenth amendments. We all need to read the entire Constitution; understand it, respect it and teach our children to do so.

“Thanks to the Patriot Act, any agency of The Department of Homeland Security can violate our Constitutional Rights at a whim. Their folks can come into our homes day or night without a search warrant. This isn’t exactly the ‘Safety’ we have been told to aspire to in America, is it?” (Laughter and applause) “Please do not take me wrong. Again, I am not advocating an armed overthrow of the government. I am advocating the repossession of our country and the recovery of our rights and privileges.

“How many people do you know whose jobs have been sent to a communist country? Have you ever asked yourself why? Our leaders say it assists with foreign trade. It makes things cheaper to manufacture and to buy. I say why make things cheaper if we don’t have a job nor money to buy anything anyway. That’s where we are today in this beloved land. We currently owe China over seven hundred and seventy two billion dollars! We owe a communist country over seven hundred billion dollars, and they hold over two trillion in U.S. securities. That means China can play a perverted golden rule game with us. Don’t you think they presently do just that?

“It would not surprise me if Chinese troop planes began landing at our airports tomorrow. When a country harvests organs from executed criminals, condones the consumption of rare wildlife, suppresses dissent with massacre and prison, and permanently occupies another country, why do our leaders kiss their asses?” (Yells, applause, affirmation) “To you parents, I apologize, but I must be emphatic at times.”

After a brief pause and sip of water, he went on, “It is because there is immense wealth involved; for a select few. There is immense wealth for those companies that have left the U.S. and set up manufacturing facilities in China. There is tremendous wealth for those companies that have set up facilities in Mexico, India, Pakistan and other countries as well. Their indigenous work forces will benefit from wages that are generally less than one quarter of American wages. Never mind that the quality of much of the merchandise coming from those countries is marginal at best. Never mind that we are shipping America’s natural resources overseas so we can buy back products made from those same resources.

“If I may be overtly sarcastic for a moment: It is very important that all this take place so that Political Action Committees can provide a continuing supply of money to our elected officials and their parties. It is important that elected officials earn more than many CEOs who have built companies engaged in commerce in the U. S. and who hire American workers. It is important to keep the money coming in to National Republican and Democratic Committees so they can spend millions getting their favorite candidates elected in order to complete and continue the vicious cycle.

“Meanwhile, rank and file members of Congress make over a hundred and seventy four thousand dollars per year, leaders of the minority and majority over a hundred and ninety three thousand dollars per year, and the speaker of the house makes over two hundred and twenty three thousand dollars per year. Of course, one doesn’t spend three million dollars, which is the average amount spent by a Senatorial candidate, to get a hundred and seventy four thousand dollar a year job, even if it is for six years. We all know and can imagine there are a lot more perks to the jobs.” He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts and for another drink of water. Then he continued in a more somber tone.

“The selling of America has occurred gradually, like a fungal growth. It has occurred slowly but inexorably, along with our loss of freedoms. I believe there is such a large population in our country now that politicians actually think only in terms of demographics and trends, without regard to human senses and equity. I don’t think our condition means anything to most of them. We are simply ‘cannon fodder.’That is the main reason why I’m here.

“I believe that we, the free American people, need to lock our arms and show our force, both political and martial. Our representatives need to respect us and fear us. They need to understand that they represent us, not the wealthy or the corporations or PACs. It is us who elect and fire them. And, it is time most were fired.” (Applause and affirmation)

“Remember, the mantle of freedom is woven with tenuous strands of integrity, courage, justice, and the sweat and blood of patriots. War has never permanently destroyed freedom, but freedom can be stolen or relinquished through negligence, deceit, and ignorance.

“I simply suggest and hope that this organization and others with like minds, morals and aspirations combine forces to help take back our country. Teach every man, woman and child of the appropriate age how to effectively fire a weapon, reload ammunition and properly maintain standard weapons. Each organization should possess at least two fully automatic weapons, with the appropriate permits. There should be an adequate number of individuals trained to fire them effectively and to store and maintain those weapons for a time of emergency.

“I fear that emergency is rushing at us as I speak. I urge all of you to trade ideas with each other and other organizations and structure yourselves for the best defense. Remember, the best defense is a forceful offense. I love you! I love this country! Freedom is safety from tyranny. I want to be free ... I will take care of my own safety! Thank You!”

As had happened with most of his engagements to speak, his audience exploded with applause and cheers. However, he always feared his leaving would be like pulling a finger out of a bucket of water; no impact, no lasting impression and no sense of his having been there. He always hoped for the best though, and these folks were some of the best he’d run across. He was a keen observer and noted that throughout his speech they paid studious attention.

Dr. Tarwater rushed the podium and shook his hand for about a minute while various members took photographs and asked for the walker’s autograph. He couldn’t smile; he seldom did. He simply signed “Walker”; he always did. People seemed to be satisfied with that; probably thought it was his last name. They didn’t need to know.

Dr. Tarwater thanked him publicly and asked if he would stay the night. He politely accepted, with the request that he be allowed to address Dr. Tarwater’s staff for a short time. From the Freedom Force Rangers Headquarters, he was headed to Northern Montana to talk to another group. He would need some help getting there, because apparently no one knew where the “Mother’s Sons of America (MSA)” were located. He hoped Tarwater’s staff could help.

The small staff of five was modeled after the military, with personnel, security, operations, and supply and civil affairs members. Surprisingly, the personnel and civil affairs officers were female. That made a lot of sense to him.

He answered many questions during the evening meal. He learned much more than expected, not only about the MSA and its approximate location, but about the fears, aspirations and plans of the Freedom Force Rangers. He gave advice when asked, and they asked plenty. He recommended concrete block construction with poured, reinforced concrete bunkers, no less than fifty yards apart at the perimeter of the compound. He recommended underground hard wired communications that couldn’t be jammed. He recommended the relocation and dispersal of the buildings, the stockpiling of one year’s rations at each of the member’s homes to be brought to the compound in case of an emergency, the stockpiling of ammunition and the selection of M-2 Heavy Barrel machine guns as the automatic weapons of choice.

The conversation continued into the night with him learning much and recommending more. The walker saw no compromises with defenses or offensive capability. He understood that when you planned “over the top” you get much more than when you equivocate. He was planning for war. As a strong nation deters war, a strong populace deters malevolence.

As always he had dreams, really bad dreams. He dreamed of babies burning with their little clothes sticking to them. He saw people being eaten or rendered for their protein. He had visions of concentration camps and segregated areas for “different” people. He dreamed of piles of American flags and bibles burning. His dreams were vivid. He seldom slept more than five hours.

When he could, he slept during breaks on his “walks.” When he crossed a grassy park surrounded by trees, occasionally he would lie down, hidden on the side where he could watch his path, and would sometimes have uninterrupted sweet dreams of the times he’d hunted the Rockies as a vibrant young man. He dreamed of camp robber jays that walked right up and took food off your plate if you let them, and he dreamed of watching beaver work hurriedly in late September while he lay undetected under a large blue spruce or tangle of yellowing aspen. He had seen bear, lion, elk and mule deer. He had killed blue grouse, pheasant, elk and deer. He could kill none of them now. His heart had softened in old age. He would kill nothing anymore ... except possibly man.

He’d received valuable information from a couple of young men with regard to the location of the MSA. The young men had an uncle who owned about five thousand acres outside Glacier National Park in Montana. Their three cousins were apparently members of MSA, and the walker was given their telephone number and offered a ride up highway 93 to the Whitefish Range. He accepted, but asked if he could ride in the rear of one of the pickups so that no one outside the compound would see him leave.

The ride was bumpy until they turned off I-90 onto U.S.-93. He transferred to the cab on a deserted road with plenty of overhead cover. They stopped to eat in Kalispell, but as usual he only ate to survive his walks. Eating took too much time. They dropped him in Whitefish, and turned back toward Helena with fond wishes and “good luck.” He wished them “eternal vigilance.” They didn’t think the comment was strange; coming from the walker.