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| - I had been a member of the Boy Scouts, and reached the position of Klief. With my excellent Boy Scout record I was able to gain admission to West Point in 1948. Due to the shortage in manpower, I was able to graduate in only a year and saw some fighting with the 3rd Armored Division in Texas. My leg was badly injured by a Mexican guerrilla bombing and I remained in Stonewall Military Hospital for the remainder of the war. After the war I was discharged from the Army. The Joint Dictatorship of the Oppressed Nations was imposed on America until 1954. The aftermath of the war was quite terrible. All the crimes of the Settler regime had been revealed. I had considered myself a good Presbyterian in the Calvinist tradition. The ability of Huey Long to rouse the people has been like a religion to me. I had a love for the people, plain folk, and the demagogue spoke to them. I had been a jolly joker in my youth. Even at West Point, I had found a way to be a clown through hellish plebe year. And during the war, only comedy got me through those awful nights in the trenches. But blood has washed away my laugh. I was still influenced by the Social-Darwinist struggle that I had been educated in under Long. My First Days in the White House, had led me to embrace the fierece Darwinian struggle. To want to be a conqueror. After the war, when I had a chance to read, I had remembered Long's furious attacks on Dostoevsky. Dostoy wasn't even a Red, but Long said he represented the Slavic spirit. So I wanted to read Long's opposite. The Brothers Karamazov reduced me to tears. The sheer cruelty of the world, of existence itself. I had wanted to embrace Communism, through Long's hated Dostoy. But instead I found nihilism and death. I felt the longing of Dostoy to love humanity, but the impossibility of love in this harsh world. Suddenly natural selection was a curse far exceeding the fairytale of original sin. Not even the Communist Utopia could ever justify the endless sufferings of humanity. Neither God's plan nor Mao's plan could justify the tears on the cheek of a single child. I had been living in Sacramento, California before the war, but was forced to leave when the Aztland Republic was proclaimed. I joined my old war buddy Ryan Demetesy in New York. He fiancee was a wealthy heiress, and owned a summer home in upstate New York. Ryan invited me to use it during my recovery. The area was nicknamed Timbuktu and was a busy retreat for the rich during the summer months. However it was a frozen iceland during the winter. I would spend long hours staring at the endless snow, and the dead trees. My leg was badly atrophied,with my lack of physical activity the rest of my body soon atrophied as well. I grew bloated and fat. For days I would stare into the mirror. The long deep lines across my prematurely aged, ghostly white face. My hair, dry and weak. Puffed and enlarged with fat. As though my face was too small for my head. I had been a great athlete in the Boy Scouts, a West Point Cadet. The possibility of ever recovering seemed hopeless. And even if I could, it did not seem worth the bother. The Oppressed Nations occupying army was beginning to withdraw from America. Plans for a Democratic Republic of America were being drawn up. The new Republic would be an anti-Settler All-people's Democracy as opposed to a Dictatorship of the Proletariat. Knowing the settler mentality of Americans, I despaired of the day America could ever reach Communism.
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