X Rubicon: Up Against a Wall

I am standing at the wall, It is high and I am small, All alone there's no one to catch me when I fall, From the wall

Rubicon & Griobhtha

Too long for email? Click the title & read online.

Sooner or later

You must face what you have done

Sooner or later

Your soul must be found

Before it completely dies

— Rubicon

People will do anything, no matter how absurd, in order to avoid facing their own souls. One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious.

Psychology and Alchemy – Carl Jung

Up Against A Wall

I'm woven in a fantasy,
I can't believe the things I see
The path that I have chosen now has led me to a wall
And with each passing day,
I feel a little more like something dear was lost.

It rises now before me,
A dark and silent barrier between,
All I am, and all that I would ever want to be,
It's just a travesty…

The Wall - Kansas

Following the last mission, I could no longer justify what I was doing. The Salvadoran and Guatemalan regimes were clearly corrupt and evil. They couldn’t have survived without US backing and active CIA and military support. Looking around the world, and throughout US colonial history, the US made a habit of supporting right-wing governments and dictators. If locals got out of hand or demanded fair play, we sent in troops to slaughter the “socialists” and “communists”. Even at that time, the US all-out supported apartheid South Africa, just as they support apartheid Israel to this day, regardless of the slaughter taking place.

…The moment is a masterpiece,
The weight of indecision's in the air,
Standing there,
The symbol and the sum of all that's me,
It's just a travesty,
Towering, blocking out the light and blinding me,
I want to see.

You can’t just quit in the field, you’d probably end up with a gunship round vaporizing your existence. No new orders had yet been issued, but I knew they were coming. At the time, I thought Bill was just on vacation. He had been gone longer than expected, but god how I needed him! I went to Lt Weasel and informed him I would no longer go on these missions. He was incensed and ordered me to continue. I told him there was no way I would ever go out again. He called me every derogatory name he could think of, and threatened to have me arrested, I told him to go ahead – his order was invalid. You can’t order someone to violate the law and the conventions of international law.

Then the shit hit the fan, in my direction. Lt Weasel called the Major. The Major flew down and involved all the base Commanders. The Major lectured me for 3 solid hours on integrity, following orders, communism, socialism, Russians, those “trying to destroy our way of life”, etc… He scolded me how our leaders knew best and we should do as we’re told for the greater good. The CIA knew who our enemies were, and we should take their word for it, even if it were wrong now and again.

The Major sent me to talk with the 8^th and 16^th Squadron Commanders, the Group Commander, and the Wing Commander. I told all of them the same, that I could no longer support right-wing fascists; that I could no longer kill on the word of another that it was the right thing to do, when all indications explicitly screamed it was the wrong thing to do. The CIA’s operational orders were wrong, a violation of international law. We (Americans) were slaughtering and killing the wounded for the sake of political ideology, secrecy (about our involvement), and to hand off successes to the inadequate and power hungry death squad militaries of foreign fascist governments. They were all very nice and semi-supportive, but all of them were of the pilot, kill from a great distance without guilt, guild.

And so it went,
The children lost their minds,
Crawling over bodies of those who gave their lives.

And the fists begin to throw,
And the fire starts to blaze,
Don't you think they know
They're the fucking human race?

They said the world does not belong to you,
You are not the king, I am not the fool,
They said the world does not belong to you.
It don't belong to you.
It belongs to me!

And So It Went – The Pretty Reckless

I was sent to see a psychiatrist at Eglin AFB. He spent and hour with me, listening as I spewed out my problem with indiscriminate killing. Since he was a psychiatrist, I told him the details of the missions, the killing of wounded, the blood, the killing of unarmed civilians, and the nuns. The tears running down my face could have filled a lake. When I finished he told me that he felt I had a problem with authority, perhaps having to do with my father. I asked him if he got his diploma from a Cracker Jack box. I asked him if he had been listening at all, or was this some sort of boilerplate diagnoses specifically made for military use. He said thanks for talking to him and he would write his report.

When the report arrived, the Major and his yippy dog went to town with it, accusing me of failing to be a team member, of not following orders, of having problems with authority related to my father. I asked for a copy of the report and they gave it to me. Nowhere in the report was mention made that the subject (myself) no longer wanted to kill for ideology and profits. Though the DSM 3 published in 1980 had included PTSD as a diagnoses, and this information was certainly available to the psychiatrist (he had it on his shelf), no mention was made of trauma, killing, or death and the fact I didn’t want to do it anymore. That a trained psychiatrist with an advanced degree couldn’t see this or report on it spelled out the lengths the military will go to establish that nothing is their fault, that soldiers are faulted by there inability to “suck it up buttercup” and continue obeying assholes.

The Wing Commander asked if there were anyone else they could have me talk with. I told him that if there were someone outside the military, I would talk with them. Considering what was involved in the missions, it made sense that they sent me to the former Wing Chaplain, a retired priest. We spoke for a couple of hours, and while I couldn’t divulge all the information on the missions, I made it clear that I was being ordered to kill without cause and even slaughter the wounded, and that I just couldn’t do it anymore. I told him about the psychiatrist and his false report. He understood and pointed to a plaque above his mantle. It had a Latin phrase and he asked me if I knew what it meant. I told him I didn’t, and he told me, “Don’t let the bastards screw you… I can’t tell you what to do, but you have to live with yourself and your conscience… Don’t let them tell you what you have to do.”

When I returned to the Wing Commander, he seemed sad at my sticking to my refusal. He contacted the Major, and escalation of pressure mounted. I was given every dirty job to perform publicly, and the information concerning me was leaked to practically everyone on base. Soon, men that I’d known as good friends turned on me like rabid wolves. From these, and from the Major and his barking dog, I was called coward, commie, yellow, pussy, wussy, slacker, traitor, scared, chickenshit, and so much more. I was threatened with prison, and some said they should hang me or put me in front of a firing squad.

I felt so extremely alone. I wondered where Bill was. Lt Weasel wouldn’t discuss him with me. I asked around incessantly and was finally told that Bill had been killed in an auto accident. He was transporting firewood using a jeep and trailer, and flipped it on the highway and broke his neck. I thought of all he had been through in Vietnam and his life, and to die, that quick while moving firewood. I was never able to tell him about Kit. This hit me very hard, and I cried for days… now I really felt even more alone.

Unbeknownst to me at the time, the former 1^st SOW Chaplain was pushing hard to try and help me. Meetings were taking place in the background, and then I was called in by the Major to discuss my separation. Apparently there had been arguments about how far to take the punishment, and then whether to allow an honorable discharge. Also apparent was that the Major (my Commander) and his dog Toto were for maximum punishment and dishonorable discharge. Others argued against this, the Chaplain the most forcefully. What the Major offered was cruel and petty. He brought up the AFEES Major’s objection attached to my entrance waiver. He told me what a disgrace I was; that I shouldn’t have even been allowed to join. He stripped me of my medals and awards, save my Marksman ribbon, “to remind him of who he really is”. He said my DD-214 (discharge document) would be redacted in toto. If I didn’t agree to this, I would be given a dishonorable discharge. At that time, a dishonorable discharge carried heavier weight than now in the world of employment. Such a damning record was a blackball when seeking employment. I couldn’t take that chance, and I was alone in my deliberations, so I agreed.

While the paperwork was readied, I continued with public humiliation work, and received continued public repudiation. When I went to the mess hall to eat, I was left to sit alone feeling angry eyes upon me. During this time, Lt Weasel would constantly alternate between verbal abuse and being my best friend. When he was my best friend, he would relay to me how much the Major and he cared about me. He, and the Major, right up to the last day when I signed the documents, would offer that “all this could just go away… everything will be restored, including your rank and medals… this whole incident will just be erased… all you have to do is go back in the field.” This, after telling me how worthless I was and how I shouldn’t even have been allowed in – and yet, they still wanted and needed me to go and destroy willy nilly.

On the last day, I went in to sign the paperwork. When they showed it to me, my heart took a dive. The DD-214 had been stripped, completely. I had seen an updated copy previously, and now, it was empty. After all I had been through, to have my life reduced to nothing… No deployments, no awards, no citations; rank was gone; time-in-service reduced. I had been redacted from service. True to his word, the Major had left my Marksman ribbon, to remind me. And then, to top the shock, the reason for separation was listed as “APATHY – DEFECTIVE ATTITUDE”. This hurt more than anything. First, because it wasn’t true. Second, with this printed on the record, even with an honorable discharge, this document was useless to me for employment. They had taken away the accrued paid leave I was owed (from all the times Lt Weasel refused my requests for leave). I was royally screwed!

At this point I had no alternative but to sign. I missed Kit. I missed Bill. I received my copies and drove off the base, alone… so very, very, very alone.

Standing At The Wall, The Pretty Reckless from Death By Rock & Roll

I remember long before the sun refused to shine
If I had only known that I was out of time
But now I see
In front of me
Through my breath, I see its shadow over me

I am standing at the wall
It is high and I am small
All alone there's no one to catch me when I fall
From the wall
From the wall

A lot of la-dee-da-da-da's when we were young
With no memories to weigh us down and life was fun
But now I see
It's over me
And my dreams are all for naught but lost at sea

But I am standing at the wall
It is high and I am small
All alone, there's no one to catch me when I fall
From the wall
From the wall

You can build it up
You can blow it down
You can burn the world around it
If you lose it all, you will find it taller
And that you're surrounded by the wall
By the wall

I am standing at the wall
It is high and I am small
And I hope the wind will catch me when I fall
From the wall
From the wall
From the wall 

~

~

Rubicon spent just under three years as a military Scout. During that time he was awarded the “AF Cross, 2 Silver Stars, 4 Bronze Stars, Defense Superior Service Medal, AF Good Conduct Medal, and the CIA Distinguished Service Medal” (ODNI). When he refused to kill further, he was stripped of these awards and was abandoned with his PTSD by the military and thrown away.

Sean Griobhtha (gree-O-tah) is a combat veteran. His latest book is X Rubicon: Crossing Life, Sex, Love, & Killing in CIA Proxy Wars: An indictment of US Citizens: ignorantia non excusat, which details the life of Rubicon (“2.5 years Deception & Death; 40+ years locking away Emotions & Truth”). It’s important that you read the Foreward, Or, The Vanguard; written by a highly intelligent woman with a heart of empathetic gold; she’ll bring you in gently, which neither Rubicon nor I would ever do.

Mrs Rubicon has been tutoring dyslexics and non-dyslexics in reading and writing for over three decades. She has a Bachelor’s degree in Interdisciplinary Humanities, and a Master’s degree in Pastoral Care and Psychology. She completed Pastoral Care training at the University of Chicago Hospital; and she has worked with various court systems in turning children around. She has volunteered in school sponsored reading programs where we’ve again witnessed her skill in improving even the most recalcitrant students. She holds teaching certification in Orton-Gillingham tutoring from the Michigan Dyslexia Institute.

If you enjoyed this writing, you can tell Crossing Rubicons that their writing is valuable by purchasing X Rubicon from Amazon, Ingram, Barnes & Noble, Bookshop.org, your local independent book seller, or your favorite digital store. View about the author, the book, and abridged translations here. If you would like to understand the effort and trouble that went into publishing this book, read X Rubicon: Author Statement.