Slivovica Mason: Semper Fi

By Clifton L Bullock Jr.

"Survival is not limited to the fittest but survival is limited to those that know the value of defeat and are not willing to take the charge. Instead they maneuver and learn and at the right moment counter any motion that is meant to cancel their progress with an attack of their own. It’s almost like war in a sense. Survival is war."

Working as a journalist for the Philadelphia Daily was a change of pace for a man who was once a trained Marine Corp assassin and linguistics specialist deployed during war. He made the most of the opportunity after surviving the Guatemalan jungles followed by action in the NATO lead Kosovo conflict. Mason Sessions now had to survive the battlefield of a cold, wintery Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

He was summoned by his Top, The Boss and former Army Ranger with secrets of his own to chronicle the death of a Marine murdered in Camden County’s nearby Pennsauken but the assignment changed when Mason had to use his skill of language and military knowledge to assist local law enforcement with the bizarre murder. A bizarre murder with an encrypted Victorian Era poetic twist.

Fortunately for Mason, he was paired with the astute, quick-witted and equally beautiful Orinda Costa to bring a feminine brilliance to assist. In order to find the poetic killer, she needed access to Mason’s mind to unlock the past. Because of how he felt for her he allowed it but not without some assistance to ease his anxiety that was given to him for free courtesy of the United States Marine Corp.

It wasn’t until they deciphered the murderer’s message that they learned who was next and time was not their ally.

Scars of war aren’t always visible through stitched wounds and amputations because the brain holds secrets that body doesn’t allow. A Soldier’s Heart is always in the right place but war is never one of those.

Slivovica Mason will tell a story of struggle, secrets and survival.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gatekeeper Press
• Release date: Oct 20, 2015
• ISBN: 9781932549911

Book preview

21

Chapter 1

Yugoslavia had been dissected by the UN’s allied forces. An authoritarian Slobodan had been defeated after he and his forces imposed a deadly war. The ethnic Albanians viewed President Clinton as a hero, a king, while Serbians viewed him as an American tyrant imposing his western views on their land in attempt to raze their history. Yugoslavia was one Slavic no more.

"My fellow Americans, tonight, for the first time in 79 days, the skies over Yugoslavia are silent. The Serb army and police are withdrawing from Kosovo. The one million men, women and children driven from their land are preparing to return home. The demands of an outraged and united international community have been met.

I can report to the American people that we have achieved a victory for a safer world, for our democratic values, and for a stronger America.

Our pilots have returned to base. The airstrikes have been suspended. Aggression against an innocent people has been contained and is being turned back.

When I ordered our armed forces into combat, we had three clear goals: to enable the Kosovar people, the victims of some of the most vicious atrocities in Europe since the Second World War, to return to their homes with safety and self-government; to require Serbian forces responsible for those atrocities to leave Kosovo; and to deploy an international security force, with NATO at its core, to protect all the people of that troubled land, Serbs and Albanians alike.

Those goals will be achieved. Unnecessary conflict has been brought to a just and honorable conclusion.

The result will be security and dignity for the people of Kosovo, achieved by an alliance that stood together in purpose and resolve, assisted by the diplomatic efforts of Russia.

This victory brings a new hope that when a people are singled out for destruction because of their heritage and religious faith and we can do something about it, the world will not look the other way.

I want to express my profound gratitude to the men and women of our armed forces and those of our allies. Day after day, night after night, they flew, risking their lives to attack their targets and to avoid civilian casualties when they were fired upon from populated areas.

I ask every American to join me in saying to them, ‘Thank you. You’ve made us very proud.’

I’m also grateful to the American people for standing against the awful ethnic cleansing, for sending generous assistance to the refugees and for opening your hearts and your homes to the innocent victims who came here.

I want to speak with you for a few moments tonight about why we fought, what we achieved and what we have to do now to advance the peace and, together with the people of the Balkans, forge a future of freedom, progress and harmony.

We should remember that the violence we responded to in Kosovo was the culmination of a 10-year campaign by Slobodan Milosevic, the leader of Serbia, to exploit ethnic and religious difference in order to impose his will on the lines of the former Yugoslavia.

That’s what he tried to do in Croatia and Bosnia and now in Kosovo. The world saw the terrifying consequences: five hundred villages burned; men of all ages separated from their loved ones to be shot and buried in mass graves; women raped; children made to watch their parents die; a whole people forced to abandon in hours communities their families had spent generations building.

For these atrocities, Mr. Milosevic and his top aides have been indicted by the International War Crimes Tribunal for war crimes and crimes against humanity.

I will never forget the Kosovar refugees I recently met. Some of them could barely talk about what they had been through. All they had left was hope that the world would not turn its back.

When our diplomatic efforts to avert this horror were rebuffed, and the violence mounted, we and our allies chose to act. Mr. Milosevic continued to do terrible things to the people of Kosovo. But we were determined to turn him back. Our firmness finally has brought an end to a vicious campaign of ethnic cleansing.

And we acted early enough to reverse it, to enable the Kosovars to go home. When they do, they will be safe. They will be able to reopen their schools, speak their language, practice their religion, choose their leaders and shape their destiny.

There will be no more days of foraging for food in the cold mountains and forests. No more nights of hiding in cellars, wondering if the next day will bring death or deliverance. They will know that Mr. Milosevic’s army and paramilitary forces will be gone, his 10 years of repression, finished.

NATO has achieved this success as a united alliance, ably led by Secretary General Solana and General Clark. Nineteen democracies came together and stayed together through the stiffest military challenge in NATO’s 50-year history.

We also preserved our critically important partnership with Russia. Thanks to President Yeltsin, who opposed our military effort, but supported diplomacy to end the conflict on terms that met our conditions. I’m grateful to Russian envoy Chernomyrdin and Finnish President Ahtisaari for their work, and to Vice President Gore for the key role he played in putting their partnership together.

Now, I hope Russian troops will join us in the force that will keep the peace in Kosovo, just as they have in Bosnia.

Finally, we have averted the wider war this conflict might well have sparked. The countries of Southeastern Europe backed the NATO campaign, helped the refugees, and showed the world there is more compassion than cruelty in this troubled region. This victory makes it all the more likely that they will choose a future of democracy, fair treatment of minorities, and peace.

Now, we’re entering a new phase — building that peace — and there are formidable challenges.

First, we must be sure the Serbian authorities meet their commitments. We are prepared to resume our military campaign, should they fail to do so.

Next, we must get the Kosovar refugees home safely. Minefields will have to be cleared. Homes destroyed by Serb forces will have to be rebuilt. Homeless people in need of food and medicine will have to get them. The fate of the missing will have to be determined. The Kosovar Liberation Army will have to demilitarize as it has agreed to do. And we in the peacekeeping force will have to ensure that Kosovo is a safe place to live for all its citizens, ethnic Serbs as well as ethnic Albanians.

For these things to happen, security must be established. To that end, some 50,000 troops from almost 30 countries will deploy to Kosovo. Our European allies will provide the vast majority of them. America will contribute about 7,000.

We are grateful that during NATO’s air campaign, we did not lose a single serviceman in combat. But this next phase also will be dangerous. Bitter memories will still be fresh, and there may well be casualties.

So we have made sure that the force going into Kosovo will have NATO command and control and rules of engagement set by NATO. It will have the means and the mandate to protect itself while doing its job.

In the meantime, the United Nations will organize a civilian administration while preparing the Kosovars to govern and police themselves. As local institutions take hold, NATO will be able to turn over increasing responsibility to them and draw down its forces.

Our third challenge will be to put in place a plan for lasting peace and stability in Kosovo and through all the Balkans. For that to happen, the European Union and the United States must plan for tomorrow, not just today.

We must help to give the democracies of Southeastern Europe a path to a prosperous shared future, a unifying magnet more powerful than the pull of hatred and destruction that has threatened to tear them apart.

Our European partners must provide most of the resources for this effort, but it is in America’s interest to do our part as well.

A final challenge will be to encourage Serbia to join its neighbors in this historic journey, to a peaceful democratic united Europe.

I want to say a few words to the Serbian people tonight. I know that you too have suffered in Mr. Milosevic’s war. You should know that your leaders could have kept Kosovo as a part of your country without driving a single Kosovar family from its home, without killing a single adult or child, without inviting a single NATO bomb to fall on your country.

You endured 79 days of bombing, not to keep Kosovo a province of Serbia, but simply because Mr. Milosevic was determined to eliminate Kosovar Albanians from Kosovo, dead or alive.

As long as he remains in power, as long as your nation is ruled by an indicted war criminal, we will provide no support for the reconstruction of Serbia. But we are ready to provide humanitarian aid, and to help to build a better future for Serbia too, when its government represents tolerance and freedom, not repression and terror.

My fellow Americans, all these challenges are substantial, but they are far preferable to the challenges of war and continued instability in Europe. We have sent a message of determination and hope to all the world. Think of all the millions of innocent people who died in this bloody century because democracies reacted too late to evil and aggression.

Because of our resolve, the 20th century is ending, not with helpless indignation, but with a hopeful affirmation of human dignity and human rights for the 21st century. In a world too divided by fear among people of different racial, ethnic and religious groups, we have given confidence to the friends of freedom and pause to those who would exploit human difference for inhuman purposes.

America still faces great challenges in this world, but we look forward to meeting them. So tonight I ask you to be proud of your country and very proud of the men and women who serve it in uniform. For in Kosovo we did the right thing. We did it the right way. And we will finish the job.

Good night and may God bless our wonderful United States of America," said the president of the United States of America.

The air campaign is over, but the war had just begun. The Serbians have agreed to turn with their tails between their legs and run, blemishing the history of a country whose past is as blemished by murder, corruption and a homosexual foundation. The campaign to liberate Kosovo had been won. The region could put down their guns. The international police have arrested the world’s current evil entity without ties to the oil rich sands of Arabia. The one Slavic land will now be presented to the world with historic border lines at least until new lines are identified.

Mason awoke from his repeated dream. Cold from sweat cooled his warm body. The night was full of nightmares. The limited sleep left the underneath of his eyes the ability to carry its share of baggage. True, the war was over, but the war within seemed to never end. That amongst others was the reason he was released from duty, and he was now free. No longer bound by the laws of the Uniformed Code of Military Justice.

He sat up along the side of the bed and looked across the room to his self-made memorial. He erected it in the memory of those who were murdered. At times he still heard the screams of the innocent. Sometimes he would close his eyes and still see the blood that flowed from the Serbian soldiers that surrendered their position under the rules of engagement but ultimately involuntarily and ultimately unwillingly surrendered life as well.

Mason spoke nothing because he was alone, and there was no one else there. The voices he heard in his head didn’t require a response. He removed the cold from his eyes and wiped the tears that came when he thought about the gruesomeness of the war. He was war-torn. The term war-torn usually relates to a region after battle, but any marine or soldier will tell that for the boots that humped the ground, he and the region became one in the same. Nothing had been the same again after what he saw in Kosovo some years ago.

Get up, Marine. You have to let it go! You have a deadline to meet, Mason barked to himself finally snapping away from the memory of massacre and war.

The Philadelphia winter outside was cold. The grey skies made it hard to wake, but for a veteran ex-marine diagnosed with PTSD, it made for a bigger challenge. He lived in his Penn Landing loft near the marina but worked downtown as a journalist for a local, liberal marketed newspaper where he wrote on assignment to provide insight to the world. It was his only job after leaving the Corps, but it was also what he did during his enlistment.

In Kosovo he wrote about what he saw as well. He was a Marine first, translator second and third he also chronicled the events as a journalist. The Marine Corps ordered this duty because of his exceptional aptitude, and he proved to be the right one for the job. He was rare and could do rare things because he was not like other Marines by being quiet and reticent. The reason for this was that he was ridiculed by strangers and friends alike his entire life because of his speech impediment.

Mason didn’t even like phones. He would rather write letters or send emails to communicate. Words that are written can only be misinterpreted not misread was something that one particular Master Gunnery Sargent always told him.

He turned on the lamp light next to the bed to start his morning routine. When he did, the room came alive. Nothing in the room was out of place. That would have caused him unnecessary discomfort. Everything had to be in a specific place because to Mason and his obsessive compulsion, his apartment was the same as the large of the world. Everything had a place and order. The mahogany wood within the loft correlated with the exposed brick gave him a cold cave-like feel but the comfortable feeling of home. Each throw rug was placed with precision, and every framed picture appeared to be drawn on the wall. Every plant was gently dusted, leaving only the green that God gave them. Closets were manicured with every suit arranged by color and every shirt the same. Neckties were paired with matching color patterned dressed shirts and his chest of drawers was organized the same way.

Everything within his control was controlled because anything out of place provided room for things to go wrong.

Please Sir... Please don’t. I’m just a soldier like you. Please. I beg of you, and then the sound of execution rang before silence returned. Mason shook his head, but he could not shake the memory permanently imbedded. His team of devil dogs contributed to the same massacres against Serbians that the Serbian military was known to distribute over the entire region.

Please Sir... Please don’t. I’m just a soldier like you. Please. I beg of you, then the man was shot dead. Once with a purpose behind his head and another on the side for good measure.

Fuck you. You Serbian prick! I don’t give two shits if you beg.

Mason tried to translate that surrender, but his delivery was so impaired trying to save the man’s life, he could not utter the words fast enough. All the man wanted was to live, so he could see his wife again, but he was ignored for multiple reasons.

Walking into the bathroom, Mason turned the shower on; the steam immediately stimulated his nostrils. He lit a cigarette that he stored in one of the vanity’s drawers. He always started his day with a cigarette before a shower because he needed to calm his nerves before the shower cleansed his body. Plus the cigarette slowly made the world that he knew so well not so grim. He wiped the condensation from the mirror and looked at his reflection, he was not the man he used to be, but he was still not a man he knew too well. With nightmares attacking him while he slept at night and daydreams of better days few and far between, he knew that it was only a matter of time. Only a matter of time before the ghosts that he dreamt about from the war would finally come for him.

I wanted to save you, comrade. I swear I tried, Mason said to himself as he inhaled the smoke from the cigarette. Guilt of death still affected his psyche after all these years later.

After another pull from the torch and a French inhale, Mason closed his eyes. He held the smoke as long as he could to separate the poison from the nicotine in hopes that it would kill him quickly and then billowed slowly when he could hold it no longer. The slight lightheadedness helped soothe the pain of memories that plagued his mind.

Mason stripped his pajamas to view his naked body; he detested it. The one thing he hated more than speaking to people was to look at his body and all of its scars. The bullet that he took from one of his own Marines for defending a poor woman pleading for her life that was not spared left a scarred wound. His body physically reminded him of everything his brain would not allow him to forget. As he entered the shower, after ridding the cigarette inside of the toilet, the temperature of the water’s warmth quieted the voices for now. He closed his eyes and heard nothing but the water beating his skin and the tiled floor inside the shower enclosure and the awakening sounds of the city of Philadelphia outside.

Chapter 2

As Mason exited the mass transit system of a city with a population of almost two million people and walked the heavily populated streets of downtown to the tribune, he could not escape the constant voice he heard.

Avenge me, brother. Please, the voice of the Serbian soldier with eyes Mason would never forget said. They held terror of inevitable death. The voice was loud, but if the sounds of the world were muted, they would fall on deaf ears. Another shake of his head in an attempt to rid himself of the torment was all for naught. The surrender by the enemy was innocent and as a part of a liberating force, he knew that the rules of engagement had to be obliged. Unfortunately, not all of his Marines followed his lead. They failed to at least acknowledge the surrenders of some as people, as human beings with souls.

Chandler needs to see you. He has been asking about your whereabouts since he arrived this morning, the receptionist informed Mason as he arrived at the Philadelphia Daily News. He didn’t speak to acknowledge her statement. He only nodded his head as he removed his headphones from his ears and inserted them into his messenger bag. His speech impediment made him so insecure that even the most casual professional interaction was avoided. It made him almost a mute unless it was imperative to speak.

People that knew him were amazed that a man who could fluently speak Russian, Serbian, Spanish, French and Arabic to perfection would have the greatest challenge with his native tongue. His constant stutter was as if his tongue spoke in cursive, but due to his ASVAB score, the United States Marine Corps provided a waiver for this because they could train an assassin who could learn to speak and understand the tongue of the enemy. Unfortunately, his inability to speak English without the verbal barricades limited him the confidence to speak regardless of how dire the situation.

People were always curious of him. They only knew that he was a well-dressed and properly groomed veteran who was slightly odd. Since he never spoke, it was always a wonder. So who was this Mason who sat in a small office near the stairwell and bathroom on the 4th floor? they would ask.

You needed me, Mr. Chandler? Mason was barely able to speak as he nervously laced his hands behind his back. He was nervous because Mr. Chandler never requested to speak to writers of his level. This made him nauseous. He burped up the taste of orange juice causing bile to burn the back of his esophagus.

I don’t need you for anything; understand that right now, Mr. Chandler said in a low, baritone growl.

Mr. Vernon Chandler was the Editor in Chief at The Daily, a tall man with a muscular stature. His eyes were low with scrunched eyebrows to match his scowl. His age could only be identified by his mustache that was salted with gray.

I’m s-s-sorry sir, Mason expressed. When he was nervous, he stuttered but when he was scared, he was incomprehensible.

I don’t want your life excuses, Mason, and I sure as hell don’t need them. I had you come see me for a reason. So sit your ass down and shut the hell up, Mr. Chandler said as he pointed to a chair in front of his desk.

Mason had no idea what was going on, but he knew better than to interrupt Mr. Chandler with a question. Instead he did what he was told.

I have the inside track on a story that I want you to cover; the operative word here Mason is want. I want you to cover the murder of a Marine killed in the Pennsauken Township who was shot execution style, once in the back of the head and then shot twice more on each side of his temple. I can’t believe one of our nation’s finest warriors could be murdered this way. Some crazy fuck has no regard for human life, the sick son of a bitch! I want you to cover this story, and I want you to get out there now.

Mr. Chandler, a former Green Beret in Vietnam, seemed to take a personal exception anytime a service member was murdered domestically after surviving conflict abroad. It really brought out the patriot in him.

I want you to get with Orinda Costa once you leave my office, and I want the two of you to make your way to Pennsauken immediately. An investigator will be waiting for you specifically.

Mason wanted to ask Mr. Chandler why he was chosen, but he knew that Chandler’s patience with him was especially thin with everything going on that he wouldn’t let him finish.

Why are you still sitting in my office, Mason?! Get the hell out of here, and get with Orinda. Now! Straighten up, Marine! As you were! Mr. Chandler yelled as Mason hurried out of his office.

Many questions were racing in Mason’s mind of which Chandler would provide no answers. They were along the lines of, Why do I need to cover this story? Why do I have to work with Orinda? Why will an investigator be waiting for me? I’m not a cop. I’m only a writer for a newspaper. All questions would be answered in due time. As Mason walked down the hall making his way to the elevator, he heard a familiar voice in his head again that uttered the same words time and time again. He shook his head to rid the voice of the fallen Serbian soldier, but time and time again the words echoed.

The elevator doors opened to the 4th floor where his desk was located. It was also the floor where Orinda Costa was as well. She sat on the southwest side and Mason the northeast, so they rarely saw each other. They made eye contact a few times in passing but, that was only in common areas like the hallway and the elevator. He always thought she was beautiful with her long, silky, wavy brown hair highlighted with a hint of auburn. She had a voluptuous figure. When she wore heels, she was abnormally tall. She always wore earth tone colors paired with tortoise plastic frame glasses that made her look like a Spanish teacher that Mason had many years back; he could never forget her. She was especially nice to him because he was her best student but also because she felt for him. Other students treated him with such cruelty because he couldn’t or wouldn’t speak.

He was infatuated with her; sometimes he would stay after class and speak Spanish with her clearly as her friends would. Mason could never tell his teacher how he felt but if he