Revelations --- In Glimpses From A Purpose-Filled Journey

By Holland Bynam

This book is an autobiography falling in the category of creative non-fiction. Its uniqueness stems from the manner in which a full orchard of anecdotes, insights, truths, ideals, and present-day concerns are revealed. In that these are highlighted -- along with well-aimed shots taken against a number of

• Language: English
• Publisher: URLink Print & Media, LLC
• Release date: Aug 31, 2021
• ISBN: 9781647539153

Holland Bynam

Holland E. Bynam earned masters degrees in the supervision of education and in interpersonal communications. A retired U.S. Army colonel and school district training director, he has developed enrichment programs for secondary and post-secondary students, and is the author of "On Being a Better You" and "The Exceptional Teenager's Development League Book. "He lives in Pearland, Texas.

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REVELATIONS

IN GLIMPSES FROM A PURPOSE-FILLED Journey

Holland E. Bynam

Revelations — In Glimpses From A Purpose-Filled Journey

Copyright © 2021 by Holland E. Bynam. All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any way by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the author except as provided by USA copyright law.

The opinions expressed by the author are not necessarily those of URLink Print and Media.

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Published in the United States of America

Library of Congress Control Number: 2021916226

ISBN 978-1-64753-913-9 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64753-914-6 (Hardback)

ISBN 978-1-64753-915-3 (Digital)

30.07.21

In memory of my mother

Horald Hartwell Williams,

whose courage, humility, love, rightness, and unselfishness still serve as guiding lights in all I do. Her lessons for living a purposeful life transcend by far all that I have gleaned from the many others I have admired.

Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1: A Deferred Dream

Chapter 2: Messages and Flashbacks

Chapter 3: Reception Surprises

Chapter 4: Marching Orders

Chapter 5: Peripheral Things

Chapter 6: Theories, Principles, and Rules

Chapter 7: The Specialty Test

Chapter 8: Philosophies And Expositions In Open Court

Chapter 9: From Out The Closet of The Mind

Chapter 10: On Audacity, Courage, and Sanctity

Chapter 11: In Quest of Episodes

Chapter 12: Imbued With Militarism

Chapter 13: Synoptic Questions

Chapter 14: Breaking Loose

Chapter 15: Preparation Classics

Chapter 16: Tree Analogies

Chapter 17: Fond Memories

Chapter 18: The First Whirlwind Years

Chapter 19: Barometers of Comparison

Chapter 20: Whirlwinds In Perspective

Chapter 21: From The Past to The Present

Questions Responded to in the Story

Acknowledgements

Index

Name Locator Guide by Chapters

Introduction

It took a full review of the chapters of my life to begin breaking the bonds of doubt and fear holding me in check from starting out to write a book about it. Were it not for the cast of characters who played a part in making it an exceptional one, I am certain the attempt would not have been made. In the main, my memory of select individuals — some, who returned from time to time to raise the level of my thought and action — caused me to think that without including the impact these made on my development, in advancing my opportunities, and in giving me memories to cherish, there would be no story worthy of impacting the sensibilities of others. While this review revealed that many of the positive impacts I made on others and on a number of organizations were matters of record; it also led to my deciding that planning for a project describing my incredible journey would be a worthwhile endeavor if for no other reason than the challenges it presented.

The challenges before me were embodied in the questions:

• In telling my story, will it impact others positively?

• What approaches are open to me for telling a compelling story?

• What strategy will I employ to cause my book to be seen as unique?

Thinking deeply about the best way to begin this effort, set me to examining the books on the lives of others within my personal library; reviewing the files maintained of my earlier works; re-reading letters and reports concerning my performances; and finally, to imagining how to bring my current views into a perspective that would serve to benefit others. In doing so, it became clear that the standard methods used in the telling of one’s life story would not suffice. After all, I intended to produce a grandly rendered book that also provided the tangible benefits of being inspiring, entertaining, and informative.

— From perusing the books on hand, I determined that while an autobiography trumps a biography for the reason that the reverie is allowed to come into play; an autobiography is also trumped, if the story resembles an odyssey. Because most of my life has been epic-like, in that it celebrates feats against the odds — so to speak, it became clear that in presenting the story in a different manner than a pure autobiography, the spiritual input I had always relied on in dealing with problematic issues would be not only necessary, but also essential to my quest.

— After reviewing my published articles, speeches, poems, and several pieces written for publication — and in seeing that the underlying themes were almost always connected with an opposite viewpoint, or with sharing some idea that came to me out of the blue — I reasoned that even when writing about my own experiences, there would no need to depart from my accustomed manner of seeing things, as well as in making my points.

• Sometimes I wrote to criticize another’s viewpoint. For example, I took the liberty of annotating the great Maya Angelou’s poem, A River, A Rock, A Tree. At the time, I thought it incomplete and written hurriedly so it could be read at the president’s inauguration on January 20, 1993. However, in re-reading her version, I found it to be a deeply thought-out lesson-analogy using three symbols that have no superior forms; and whereby each can be seen as analogous to a member of the Trinity.

• Sometimes it was for downright resentment that I penned venom into an article. For example, I was boiling mad when writing about the silliness and lack of truthfulness in the 1986 movie, Platoon. While high praise is due the movie for how it was uniquely promoted and for its effectiveness on the screen, I saw it as erring seriously in giving the public the absolute wrong picture of the vast majority of wonderful young people serving in the combat platoons in Vietnam.

• Only the summary of a position paper was attached to a letter sent to General Colin Powell, when he was chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. The main point was to explain that the military’s position revealed that it did not fully understand and appreciate the impact of the movement involving gays and lesbians, and gave him my thoughts on the matter. Both, the general and his executive officer, sent very kind thank you notes for the insights I provided, but offered no corresponding or dissenting views.

In going through the plentiful files on hand, a letter, consisting of three typed pages and a four-page resume — received a few years before from a successful Connecticut attorney — caught my eye. I believe this letter was the turning point in building up my resolve to intensify my planning to move forward. The lawyer’s letter began:

This letter is long overdue. The reason for writing is to express my deep and profound gratitude to you for your leadership and the consequent lessons that benefited your young charges — including me.

I met this man when he was an eighteen-year-old private in a rifle company I commanded in Germany. I had not seen him in forty-five years; but his letter reminded me of other missives and statements expressing similar sentiments from a number of successful folk who assigned credit to me for some of their successes. Admittedly, I have no recall of any deep points that made others see me differently, and can only guess that what I must have said or done had the effect of making these others see me and my words as special.

Needless to say, this letter played a part in answering the question about impacting others positively. After all, if the impression I made when young, had the effect of imbuing others with power back when I was a novice in the art; it was certain that an old hand had more to offer in this direction.

At length, I decided that in the telling of the story envisioned, it would be difficult to stage it entirely in a chronological order. This is because some of the points I wished to convey would highlight experiences from various and sundry times. I decided also that it would be difficult to depart from my fetish for providing dissenting viewpoints, and for trying to enlarge the outlooks of others. After all, none of my important attainments would have occurred had I not objected to, or attempted to enlarge upon someone else’s viewpoints. Nor would they have occurred if I had not been able to draw from a deep well of experiences, and connect them with the project at hand.

Finding myself at an impasse after thinking that a story developed purely along the lines of enlarging viewpoints could very well be seen as a unique way of sermonizing. As this was not my intention, I began to rummage through a variety of books on life stories in search of ideas that would cause mine to be seen as one-of-a-kind. In doing so, and while giving an edge to the biographies developed by way of the interview process, from out of the blue came the idea that my story could be enlivened by the insertion of fictional interviewers. After remembering that the gamut of ideas that brought me acclaim in pastimes came to me out of the blue, the thought that I was being helped again in finding a way out of a problematic situation, was heart-warming.

Believing that the insertion of a court of interviewers was a good strategy, I decided to adopt it. Not only would it allow me to take myself out of the picture somewhat in side-stepping what could be in seen as bragging overtly. I felt that by allowing these fictional characters to have minds of their own, the effect would be even more fanciful and dramatic. If this could be done artfully, I could be certain that the questions connected with my adventures, and with the twists, turns, and reversals occurring over a long life span; my responses would cause the story to be unlike any other of its kind. I felt also, that since some would see many of my experiences as mystical and strange, using these invented story-drivers would give the narration the essential character of a true-to-life, but epic-like dream.

Although satisfied that inserting fictive drivers during the questioning process, would not detract from my story being placed in the category of creative non-fiction; I confess that when first employing them in early drafts of the narrative, these drivers caused me, myself, to be in awe of the deep thoughts on the edge of my own consciousness.

After completing the book, I am compelled to see the work of these drivers as similar to that of muses, whose craft is to inspire those engaged in artful endeavors. And while I categorize them collectively as my alter ego, the familiar muse that has whispered in my ear throughout the years, has shown by its being knowledgeable, imaginative, and protective, to also be a trusted advisor and friend.

I am certain my story would be lacking in luster if the intervening of real-life kindred spirits — those I refer to as a band of angels — was not highlighted. I believe these were destined to walk alongside me during crucial times, including in life and death situations. And while it is true that a life is truly blessed when one‘s rocky roads and paths have been made more smooth by kindred souls, it is when one has a heaven-sent muse to whisper directly in the ear of his mind, that one knows for certain that his life has been ordained to be far from ordinary. In that such a sprite has accompanied me throughout my remarkable journey, full credit must be given it for providing mental schemes for most all my significant achievements. Sometimes her schemes have served to help me solve problems, and sometimes — like in the development of this book — she has tantalized me by only providing clues to the puzzles being faced, while being careful to leave room for me to solve some of the intricate parts on my own.

Since it is doubtful that any other before me has put pen to paper in speaking of their lives and thoughts in the way undertaken, it is fitting that much of the credit for the telling of my story is due the spirit forces that have come to my aid in strange ways throughout my life. Others, I believe will appreciate the poetic license taken in giving spice to a story designed to incite conversation, and uncover topics that may serve as subjects for heated debate. And while I admit to a great deal of enjoyment in amplifying the story in this way, I never dreamed it would turn out with my seeing myself as a having been a warrior-type all my life, and one who has been constantly fighting to acquire the knowledge and skills needed to deal aptly within the various landscapes I have been spared taken part in improving.

I cannot put a finger on from whence came the idea of dreaming up Richy and Marta Famous, the two main fictional characters employed throughout the narrative — along with the other minor interviewers — to question or amplify my statements; nor am I able to explain how the mind given Marta to capture those things on the outer edge of my consciousness, referred to herein as peripheral things came to be. My best guess is that someone was needed to open the conversation about such things, and that it was my destiny to become this person. Even then, while I have been in control of the pen, so to speak, I admit to not having complete control. This is because something from out of this world has been bringing back my memories; providing thoughts that are outside my normal way of thinking and assisting me with points others may wish to adopt or take issue with.

While these things alone cause the book to fall in another category of non-fiction, I believe its real uniqueness stems from the manner in which a full orchard of anecdotes, insights, truths, ideals, and present-day concerns, are revealed. In that these are highlighted — along with the well-aimed shots taken against a number of our social, political, economic, and educational customs needing to be reformed — it is felt that much contained within this special book will be discussed and debated at dinner and conference tables galore .

Of the numerous topics expected to elicit conversations, the list below is intended to whet the appetite of readers interested in my take on these, and on others topics that are rarely discussed.

Although topics like these are never discussed in books about one’s life journey, they are mentioned here to highlight one more aspect that separates this book from others of its kind. Although centered on episodes, a listing of the most poignant of the questions asked by my fictional interviewers is one instance of it being a mold-breaking advent. Over three hundred such questions, along with page numbers denoting the place where these questions originated, is placed in the end of the story. This was done in order to assist readers who consider the questions and answers to them as food for thought, or worthy of making notes about, in returning to these pages easily. Two additional items that are also intended to facilitate a reader’s return to discussion points and individuals of interest with relative ease, are embodied in an unusual index — a departure from the normal indexing process; and a name locator guide listing the chapters where individuals mentioned in the book are contained.

While the overriding idea for the whole of this work is to share my own widening horizons with others, I expect that the audience targeted — forward-thinking adults of all walks of life — will see my work as did an editor from the publishing company who evaluated it. I saw his statement: This author has created an insightful and instructive document for the benefit of future generations, as not only a signal of this goal being attained; but also as being above all the many other wonderful things that have been written or said about my achievements over the years.

ONE

A Deferred Dream

I have a dream today! announced the expensively and smartly dressed power broker in the blue-striped suit. This dream, not a wild and fancy thing, is one that must be dealt with at the earliest possible time. It is a piercing dream!"

And that, my friends, is why you are here.

Given the small number being addressed, his having voiced each phrase in a higher octave than the one before it was necessary in getting the attention of these others; and he knew it. Due to his Hollywood holdings, his real estate properties there and elsewhere, his owning a prosperous recording company, and his connections with powerful others throughout the states, Richy Famous, was one of the most powerful men in California, hardly ever needed a special effect in gaining rapt attention to his words. After pausing, he continued in the style of Martin Luther King:

"It is not necessarily a dream envisioning a time when little white and black boys and girls will be able to walk together as sisters and brothers; but, mind you, it may go quite far in that direction — actually, even farther. Like in the poem, ‘Dream Deferred,’ this dream has been held hostage within me for far too long. I’m pleased to say, however, that the possibility of it being loosed from its shackles is an absolutely heart-warming prospect. Believing that its freedom is just ahead, and that this dream will take off and fl y, I am on the verge of being a very happy man."

The next pause, noticeably made by one skilled in producing the dramatic, was followed by a perfectly timed recitation.

"Langston Hughes, in this poem, wrote:

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up

like a raisin in the sun?

Or fester like a sore —

And then run?

Does it stink like rotten meat?

Or crust and sugar over —

like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags

like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?"

Another pause; then:

Over the past few months I have been searching in vain for an idea to complete an inspiration of mine to do something mold-breaking and powerful. You can imagine my surprise when a way of doing so came to me like a bolt of lightning several weeks ago. While it is a certainty that none of you earned reputations for being at the top of your fields of endeavor by luck only; I believe it is just as certain that some of you have had the experience of a mental force intervening, dream-like, to show you the way out of a puzzling situation. As this was not the first time an idea has come to me in this way, I have learned that it should not be deferred.

Then, even more calmly, but with definite dramatic effect:

Some may think it preposterous, but I believe when ideas evolve in this way they come from somewhere out of this world. While admittedly at a loss in trying to clearly describe or explain this baffling phenomenon, I am constrained to give credit to this source for most of my own fortunate circumstances.

After a reverent look upward, he went on:

I am beginning to suspect that each and every mold-breaking idea originates from this mysterious realm. I suspect also that the recipients of such ideas are those who have been given, or will be given, the means to bring the dream-like intervention to fruition — to an end goal, so to speak … Further, I believe sincerely that the dream comes with a requirement on the part of the dreamer to act — to get busy.

Well stated, thought the colonel during the short break taken for Richy to deal with a cellular phone call. This man is probably as sharp as he looks. He’s certainly not just a rich block of wood.

His mind flicked back to plans and concepts he had developed where the ideas for these came to him unexpectedly from an unknown source. Sometimes, even words he had never used before were given him in this way to express these ideas. This was the case for the several unique stratagems he devised for his units in Vietnam; to include the defense of Fire Support Base Pope in September, 1968. He thought it a godsend that the fighting techniques he devised for defeating a powerful and determined enemy force that had attempted to overrun the base at Pope, were brought to him in this way.

He remembered that his concept for constructing the first firebase of its kind, and even other first-time innovations for fighting in that war, were said by others to be ingenious. As for the firebase at Pope, since neither its construction, nor the manner in which he orchestrated the battle for it, could be attributed to previous training or study; he could not withhold the notion that credit for these was due a higher power. As this action and others before it, secured for him the best duty assignment a major could have in that theater, he believed that these urgings came to him because of his commitment to do his best in the interest of his fellows.

Reminding himself that many years before he had come to believe that something divine was in the works when major inventions and concepts were brought to light. He believed these were brought to light by a supreme mentality with the power to ordain recipients with the means to produce the desired effects. If asked, this would be his way of explaining Mother Teresa, Lincoln, MLK, Henry Ford, or even the "Obama Effect. On one hand, he reasoned that the impetus and power for making his own more modest strides came from regions above the stars. On the other, he attributed the calamitous achievements of the mean-spirited giants of history, like Hitler and Idi Amin, to the mentality of a supreme antagonist located somewhere in the chasms beneath the horizon of proper thought and action.

His cell-phone conversation over, the host took his original position; garnered the attention of the small audience, and proceeded immediately to take up the point now uppermost in the colonel’s mind.

Colonel, I am guessing that you are wondering why we are meeting in this place at this time? Actually, my wife picked the date. She predicted that the perfect time for starting out with you was the 3rd of November, 2008. I knew not the reason, and asked no questions; nor did I object to what seemed a senseless foray into the busiest place in the world on the eve of the election. I offered no opposition to the sweet woman; nor would anyone else who is aware that Marta Marie Famous is a Farmer’s Almanac, astrology, and numerology enthusiast to the ninth degree.

My own reasoning for not objecting was based on the thought that you would be happy to be part of this venture in order that the bones you still have to pick in the military, management, religious, and education fields, could be aired to a wider audience. … You should know that I agree with how you seem to see the world, and am convinced that the meat still on those bones ought to be made a part of the national conversation.

Smiling to himself because he knew he had revealed information that would be puzzling to the colonel, Richy took on a solemn face again and continued:

"I am a purpose-driven man. I see myself as one who gets the edge on his fellows by putting proper spins on high-value ideas. In doing so, I ask of myself questions like, ‘Is it possible to produce more than one important effect in taking this particular course?’ and ‘How can I capitalize more fully on this idea or that aim?’ As a case in point, I wanted you, sir, to be in a state of wonder from the time you received the messages you were sent; until this very hour. ‘Why so, you might ask?’ Well, the principal reason is that I wanted you to do the sort of thinking you must have done after receiving the messages I approved. I wanted to stir up your memory juices — to force recollections of your past life. These, as you will see, will be important in the quest before us during the days ahead."

Nodding, as if approving the interruption he sensed to be forthcoming, he paused and asked:

You have a comment to make, don’t you?

"Well, I was thinking of your reference to my having ‘bones to pick.’"

"If you don’t mind, that will become clear as we proceed. Now, while I understand that a particular appellation is no longer being used except by very old friends of yours, do you mind if I call you ‘Big Time?’"

"Not at all; While I prefer just ‘Time,’ I would be honored if you did so."

"Very well. ‘Time’ is what I’ll call you. Please call me Richy."

My friend, it has come to my attention that you have taken many steps to see that others you feel a responsibility for are provided skills for enriching the quality of their lives, and for succeeding.

An impishly smiling gesture followed, then:

You may have given this no thought, but I have; and it boils down to an unspoken, unwritten manifesto pertaining to your efforts and concerns in life. As these involve the failings of others and the several bones we have to pick together, they ought to be put in print so as to be entered into larger conversations, and contemplated by others who are forward thinkers.

It has been noted that in cases where the need for improved skill development of others was outside your own span of control, you made a point of bringing these to the attention of those you thought were empowered to make a difference. The fact that you have done this all your life, so people say, is meaningful to me.

Pausing then, he asked out of the blue:

Do you remember Charlie Beckwith, the old Green Beret colonel?

Of course, I remember Charlie Beckwith fondly, as I think he would remember me, were he still alive.

The colonel’s mind slipped back before the relationship he and Charlie had when both were colonels commanding elite units at Fort Bragg, to the two instances his opinions of Charlie Beckwith had been negative. The first occurred just after he became executive officer of Project Delta in Vietnam in 1966, a unit Beckwith had commanded until he was wounded in action. He had asked the captain serving as supply officer to give a reason for his recommending a certain number of aircraft for moving the unit to a forward position for launching Delta’s patrol teams. The young officer could only say, That’s the number Colonel Beckwith used during our last movement to that location. As a result, he drew the conclusion then that Lieutenant Colonel Charlie Beckwith did not train his staff members to plan properly.

The second negative opinion came when he was attending The National War College, and Beckwith was commanding the newly formed Delta Force in 1980. When learning that having too few helicopters was the reason for aborting the operation to rescue the U.S. prisoners being held in I ran, he figured Charlie was up to his old tricks in making decisions without involving others in the decision-making process; and had missed the point that more aircraft than that is normally planned for would be needed because of the desert’s negative effect on helicopter operations.

He remembered that these opinions softened in later years, after having a personal relationship with Beckwith at Fort Bragg during the years 1980-81. At that time he began to think that he may have been wrong in his criticism. In Charlie’s defense, he reasoned that he may have taken the directive approach in the first instance in ordering a certain number of airplanes to relocate the project’s forces, because time was at a premium; and because the young supply officer was not aware of all the tactical considerations and the logistics involved. He also gave him credit for using the best information available at the time, in planning the rescue operation in Iran.

Richy, obviously intending to make a point; continued:

Well, I knew him well … Old Charlie used to say that there were two kinds of people in the world. I won’t mention the other kind due to a lady being present, but he would identify you as a ‘piss-cutter’; the best kind in his estimate — a mover and shaker. While I would frame it differently, I see you in this way also; and as one who seems ordained, in a sense, to take steps to enrich others with the skills they need.

This brings me to the point that we are like-minded in many respects, and especially in the bone-picking arena. While I have only bits and snatches of your pointed messages and dynamic life, I have some access to the appropriate forums wherein these will be presented in a way never attempted before.

Your interest in showcasing some of my concerns is heart warming. Thank you.

You are welcome, my friend; but let me finish. You are curious now about my knowing this much about you. Although some of the ends and outs of your life and times have been in my sights for a few months, it seems I learn more about you on a constant basis. For example, your thoughts on various improvements you see as needed, were picked up and given me by the individual who sat with you during the flight on yesterday. After his report on your present work, I became even more enthusiastic about this project.

After a short pause,

"As I have said before, ‘There are treasures within the remembered experiences of a select few of our citizens that, if not shared, are unjustly hoarded to the detriment of the many’ … You, Sir, are one of the few persons whose life story, being extraordinary, is worth telling because the laurels given you could hardly be won by even the persons who may have provided the wind for your sails during your many adventures. And since I am able to provide the forum needed to underscore a number of your experiences and views, I predict that the two of us will not only become close friends, but also partners in a noble venture. While I will do what is required for the transmission of our messages, my friends here will concern themselves with artistically weaving your memories and deep strands of thought in a way that will help us cross the unchartered waters I envision for this venture … and on a ship with colorful sails."

Upon recognizing the lady’s hand held high to signal the need for a break, he stopped his discourse and suggested that a fifteen minute break be taken. Before making his way to the refreshment table, the colonel’s thoughts turned to 1974 and to one who had been his dearest friend: Jocelyn Pretlow Goss, Professor Emeritus of English at Norfolk State University.

"If Jocelyn had to size this guy up, she would probably use the same words she used for me years ago. She would say that Richard N. Famous was ‘an enigma wrapped up in an enigma!’"

Amused as always when he thought of his dear old eloquent friend, he felt that Jocelyn would be half right and half wrong again. While both men would be puzzling enough to her and others of her class, the puzzlement evoked would stem from these men being strange creatures who took different steps from what is normally expected in dealing with issues. Then, half-resolving to not allow himself to slip into revelries so often, he decided that this was as good a time as any to begin sizing the man up in his own mind:

This man has strangely brought me from a great distance to be among a group of people who are apparently also genius-types like himself and who seem ready to do his bidding without half-stepping. He comes across as masterful in the categories of giving a compliment, and in uncovering personal things about a person that are far from being common knowledge.

While I expect working alongside him will be an exhilarating experience, it is easy to see that every move he has made so far has been to create the effect of causing my memory juices to fl ow. He knew that they would begin with the messages he contrived, and that they would continue fl owing with the very expensive way he selected for bringing me to this place. Heaven only knows what is next.

Here’s a guy who opens a meeting with the demeanor of MLK; with a poem by another genius that equates to the problem he is struggling with; and then gives credit to the same power from above as I do for his good fortune. While his knowing my nick-name and obviously a great deal more about my life is a very high compliment, he has ingeniously caused me to have more flashbacks than I have ever had before. In that a man of his stature is planning to showcase certain of my recollections and even my present-day thoughts and acts as worthy to be shared with others, is the highest compliment I believe a person could receive.

Despite the resolution he had just made, his mind raced backwards to the messages and events of the past few days that brought him face to face with this tycoon. He concluded that this was a man who believed that a message and a reception, properly timed and presented, were essential for getting people on the same page and on the same northbound train.

TWO

Messages and Flashbacks

The cover page to the fax showed that it was sent from The White House. It was dated 10/30/08; and the subject line, in capital letters, read simply: WARNING ORDER. These, the address and subject, had the intended effect of causing him to turn to the next page quickly.

Although unsigned, the note inside, obviously written by someone with military training, was explicit enough to cause his pulse rate to rise:

Hello Big Time,

Recent reports confirm that you have completed another record-setting career, and that you are in are excellent health. While congratulations on your many achievements are in order, be advised that an opportunity for making a further impact is around the corner. Hopefully, you are up to doing a service others believe to be extremely important.

You are being summoned for a short recall to duty; therefore, unless the assessments pertinent to the status of your health have been incorrectly reported, you are expected to participate in a project given approval at very high levels, beginning Monday, the 3rd of November. The reason for the hurried start-up time will be explained later.

We expect the first phase of the project will be completed within one week. If you cannot break away for this long, call the number on the cover page immediately.

E-mail instructions to follow ASAP.

He immediately saw in this message an opportunity to stoke the coals in a life whose fire was slowly being dampened by the realization that he was not in demand anymore. That is not to say he was unhappy, but he had not yet become completely at ease with a slowed down lifestyle. And while the queasiness he was feeling at this moment was not to his liking. the words an opportunity for making a further impact, were sparks to set his imagination aflame.

Since the note was obviously written by a person who was familiar with his first career, but who wished to conceal his identity, he decided to look back over the years. His military career had been one-of-a-kind, and full to the brim — albeit besprinkled with instances where he had been taken advantage of, and even betrayed by others he had put trust in. Unwilling to trade his experiences for anything, he had always reasoned that his relationship with a handful of real special people over the years made the troubles he had borne seem miniscule. Always when looking back to these times, the thoughts that made him feel good about himself were connected with his cohorts saying they envied his action-packed military career and that they believed his assignments were more colorful and dynamic than even those of his associates who had reached national prominence.

In agreeing partially with his cohorts back then, he often wondered how much wider a mark he would have made if given the opportunities given those who had moved far out ahead of him. And while he had put aside such thoughts long before, this faxed note caused him to reconsider the notion that he was past his prime; however, it also made him pause and reckon with a new emotion creeping into the belly of his new excitement. Doubt crept in, but only momentarily.

On the positive side, he gathered from this note that his having continued to raise standards — this time in the educational arena — was no secret. He figured also that the word had probably gotten around that he would have been given some very important assignments, had he stayed in the Army. As on a number of occasions, the thought occurred to him that he would more than likely have been raised to general officer status if, instead of retiring when in his prime, he had taken the great duty assignment offered by one of the best remembered generals in recent times. He thought he was doing the manly thing in rejecting the general’s offer; however, in later years he found himself questioning the efficacy of this decision.

In the midst of thinking along these lines, came the desire to light up a cigarette and give deeper consideration to the aspects now flooding every fiber of his being. As he gathered himself to depart the small room used as an office, he glanced ahead at the two mementos presented him when leaving his last command. The largest was a glass-framed replica of the flag of the 5th Special Forces Group with its accompanying battle streamers. The other was a smaller framed work in leather featuring his name and the group’s unit insignia, with a Green Beret embossed in the enter of it. He had promised his troopers that he would always display these in his office or home.

Turning to leave, he paused momentarily and smiled at the two photos of himself on the opposite wall. The one he liked best was placed there by his eldest daughter after the passing of her mother. This photo, inscribed To my wonderful wife, featured him as a Green Beret captain during his first tour in Vietnam with the 5th Special Forces Group in 1966. The other showed him fourteen years later as a colonel in command of this elite organization when it was quartered at Fort Bragg, North Carolina. The cursory review of these things and the rest of his untidy office complete, he picked up a ballpoint and walked out of the room with the two pages just received in hand.

Daydream-like, he moved slowly through his ample living room, picked up his cigarettes, and seated himself at the table set just outside his patio-door. The carpeted porch was less than a sand wedge shot from the 8th hole of the Country Place Golf Course in Pearland, Texas. Usually, when sitting there, he would renew his vow to become senior club champion again. This time, however, no such thoughts permeated the higher excitement he was trying to subdue. After two puff s, he unconsciously extinguished the cigarette; the idea had popped into his head to look into this situation scientifically. Reminding himself that in doing so he had always kept a step ahead of others in dealing with tricky problems.

In that the acronym SWOT occurred to him first, it seemed appropriate to employ this line of thinking immediately:

I am hampered by a lack of information, so isn’t this the time to engage my brain in considering the strengths, weaknesses, opportunities, and threats presented in this situation. Surely, reviewing them cannot hurt anything; it may even lead to clearing up my anxiety.

Approving of himself in so thinking, and remembering that he had added an extra ‘W’ for ‘watchfulness’ to the acronym, he reasoned thusly:

Obviously, my military strengths are on the table. They could want me to expound on something I wrote concerning the art of commanding troops. Then too, they may need somebody to rekindle a relationship with one of the country’s allies — maybe to go to Saudi Arabia to deal with a special request of the king; a man who was the crown prince when I assisted him years ago.

If someone asked about my weaknesses, I wouldn’t know what to say other than to mention the problem I have with remembering names. Perhaps, a good answer would be that I have spent a lifetime trying to eliminate any weaknesses I saw in myself; as well as those which seemed to hold back people under my direct supervision.

As far as opportunities go, not only does this message promise some excitement, it will be a treat to get away for a while.

I plan to absent myself from threatening situations during all the days I have remaining; therefore, I hope they will not ask me to go in harm’s way again. If so, I’ll just say I’m allergic to both sand and bullets.

With the added ‘W’ in mind, he finalized:

I’ll have to wait and see if there is a need to be watchful about something or someone while in Washington.

Seeing no clear problem to be addressed, and concluding that he was much stronger now than when in uniform, his mind shifted gears momentarily to his understanding of the problems associated with management in the educational arena.

He had long since deducted that it was impossible to learn how to be an excellent manager by taking management courses as they are presently developed. He believed that very few teachers within the management field were real practitioners of the art; and thus disarmed, they could only point their presentations at exam questions. While stimulating classes could be produced by adept professors able to present the tenets espoused in various managerial approaches, little practical knowledge could be gained from their lectures. This is because the practical applications of the principles appertaining thereto are not covered in the most popular management books. As a consequence of all this, students seeking practical management skills find themselves without mental formats to guide them, and unable to readily explain how the governing principles of the field are employed.

He remembered his last speech in the educational arena highlighted the fact that the money set aside to deal with the problems urban educational systems faced, was being mismanaged. Since the problems prevailed, despite monetary efforts to abate the problems cited — especially those dealing with poor attendance, low scores, dropouts, and student centered behavior problems — he reasoned the objectives selected were obviously the wrong ones. His point was that the need for character development was essentially on par with the need to improve student learning; and that school districts should place developing character as a goal, alongside increasing student achievement. If done, much could be achieved, and school districts could redirect their misaimed funding support to real targets of opportunity; such as improving teachers, and adding topics to the curriculum to promote student success.

His ideas for placing character and life-skill development within the curriculum, and abating the student-based problems plaguing the schools by changing student outlooks and skills — not by outside resources — seemed to always engender wide approval. Nevertheless, he had noticed that despite the nods of positive agreement, follow-on action did not occur. The most heard copout given was that there is insufficient funding to hire trained facilitators for life-skill instruction.

When mentioning that students are being mismanaged, he was astounded that prominent educators acted as if their hands were tied in correcting the faults he enumerated: One, that students are being tested at the end of a semester and moved on without a review of the test. Two, that teachers — in not teaching by objectives and not taking out time for a review — could be blamed for contributing to poor student performance. Three, that teachers of core subjects are not informing their students of SAT topics listings; nor are they uniformly providing their students with salient strategies and tips for dealing with the SAT topics falling within their areas of expertise.

Saddened somewhat by these thoughts, he returned to his office and found that the anticipated e-mail had arrived. It read:

Big Time,

Let me begin by asking you to forgive the secrecy in withholding details; however, at this point it is important to do so. All I can tell you is that based on your varied experiences, you were selected over a number of well recommended others to participate in a project of vast dimensions. I believe that the workings of the military mind in dealing with questions concerning certain national issues is one of the dimensions that will more than likely be addressed.

After several selection committee sessions, only you an another very interesting person remain in the pool. As the other guy’s experiences do not match up with yours by a long shot, he will no longer be considered when you arrive in D.C. Be advised that the inquiries made into the lives of Obama, Palin, etal, were nothing compared to the depth of questions that will be asked; so be prepared for deep scrutiny. The information-gathering portion takes place during the first days of the week ahead; afterwards, the real work begins.

Not to worry; I remember you as one who comes close to The Impeccable Man you described in a paper by that name, years ago. These others, while they knew nothing about any of the candidates, were impressed with your record of success in a variety of venues, and think you are best fitted for the lead role in this endeavor.

Please have no concern whatever regarding finances, quarters, etc. Pack for several days, and be prepared for take-off from Ellington AFB Sunday at 0630 hours in a private plane being sent to bring you here. While you will probably not remember me, I am anxiously looking forward to your reaction when the project mission statement is revealed on Monday morning.

God bless

As with the fax, the author of these messages remained a mystery. Still, in using his old nickname, the author signaled that he had served with him in the Army during the early stages of his life. Most of his old friends had referred to him as Time since he took steps to have the Big’ dropped off when he was a captain. All those in the educational field he had recently left behind addressed him as Colonel"; other friends and most members of his golf club called him by his first name.

At first he reasoned that the writer could be one of his college classmates, who, after military service, was now conducting business in D.C.; but after thinking that neither of his classmates would know of his unpublished article, "The Impeccable Man," he could not escape being puzzled concerning who this communicator could be.

Knowing about this unpublished article, rules out the possibility that the writer is someone who received this tidbit of information from another. I must assume this guy is an old acquaintance, with knowledge of a number of things I have done in both careers.

Somewhat amused at the idea of being deeply scrutinized, he slipped into a series of revelries where others had used tidbits of another nature in making him a momentary hero. While so caught up in thought, he recalled how others had sometimes embellished on these tidbits. Usually they spoke as if their knowledge stemmed from being actually on the scene during the event being expounded on.

The first such story crossing his mind was the narration of a former college classmate who told his children at a restaurant, of the close association he had with their father during college days. The man wowed them with his first-hand knowledge of an incident where their dad, Big Time, had climbed the college water tower and threatened to jump to his death if the president insisted on sending him home for knocking out all — except the four wisdom teeth — of his opponent; and that the college gave their daddy a Two-year scholarship for not jumping off the tower.

Except for the facts that the fight did occur, the other fellow having lost a few teeth, and that he had to appear before a boa rd in order to remain in college, the water tower incident and the scholarship award were utter fabrications that he, himself, devised. He made up the lie at a dormitory session where he detailed the action taken by the dean of men; the problems he had with the board; and the board’s decision to put him out of school for the year. He told the attendees that the college president, after arriving on the scene and begging him not to jump, promised to reverse the decision to send him home, and to give him a scholarship if he would come down from the water tower.

The actual experience was one he would not forget because his thirteen witnesses testifying at the board to the effect that he tried to avoid the fight, carried the day; even despite the provoking manner of one board member, who had convinced himself that the other boy had been mistreated, and that he was a ruffian. He remembered the conversation he had with the provoking member after several minutes of being taunted:

Sir, is there some reason why you are treating me this way?

Mister Bynam, I do not believe that this situation evolved as is being reported. I think you are a person who gets mad easily; and when provoked, you begin throwing your fists. As a matter of fact, I believe you would like to fight me at this moment. Am I right?

You have gone out of your way to be unkind to me for several minutes, and you seem to be enjoying yourself. To me, that was wrong; and that you are wrong at the moment. I am not a bully as you seem to think; but I’m wondering if you are as tough and manly as the bully you, yourself, seem to be.

The second story like this was about him being in a poker game at a club in Nashville where three of the players were playing for the house. His buddy told him that another guy told the story as if he was there at the time. His buddy’s words were:

The guy told several of us that you called the dealer’s hand, when he dealt a bottom card to one of the house players giving him the winning hand in a large pot. He said that you took the pot and all the money in front of the other player; and told him he could have his money back, when you decided to quit playing. Then you told the dealer that if he knew what was good for him, he would refrain from dealing bottom or second cards to either of the other two house players. Further, he said that after the half-blind club owner intervened by intimating that you were a Las Vegas hustler; you threatened to take his good eye, if he opened his mouth again.

Chuckling to himself, he recalled that there was only a little truth to that tidbit. When the one-eyed owner came in and mentioned that he had seen him in Vegas several times, he walked over to the owner and, whispering, asked if he wanted to keep his good eye? When the owner trembled and said nothing, he told him that if the trouble he was trying to start occurred, he was going to take that eye home with him. After a few more hands, he escaped this situation by putting a quarter on top of his cigarette pack, pretending to go to the men’s room, and leaving cigarettes and the cl bu forever.

He, himself, witnessed the third false narration from a classmate in the section he was chosen to lead at the National War College in the 1979-80 academic year. He was just returning from lunch on the only day the wives were invited to attend the classes, when he heard his named mentioned. He did not hear the question asked; but upon hearing his name, remained outside the door, unseen. The response was so outlandish that he was ashamed to enter the room until the wives had departed for a briefing by the college staff. The classmate’s words were to this effect:

Time wears more medals than we do, and is a hero that was legendary among the fighting troops and among the enemy too. I was visiting his unit in Nam during a battle one day, when Time stood up and surveyed the battlefield with arms folded like Napoleon and with his scarf fl owing in the breeze. When the five enemy that were left to fight saw him, they got up from their foxholes with hands raised. They bowed to him, and walked slowly over to a tree where a supply of body bags were stacked.

What happened then? one of the wives asked.

Well, they knew what was coming, so each one got in a bag, zipped himself up, and expired on his own.

He remembered that this classmate was only repeating an outlandish tale that had come to him through the grapevine, in order to build up the only bachelor in the section with the ladies. This story was first told in his presence by a fellow warrior from the 101st Airborne, for the same purpose. In actuality, this fellow had accompanied him to a Special Forces detachment’s camp during a 4-hour helicopter stopover at Dalat, Vietnam. During the visit in the summer of 1968, the team leader gave him a colorful team scarf, which was worn only during the tour given them of the camp. The only truth to that story was that there was a breeze blowing on the beach at Dalat at the time.

Before slipping completely out of his revelry, he remembered that two or three of the wives glanced at him approvingly at parties following that Wives’ Day event; and that some of the past exaggerations, when downplayed by his own modesty, had led to his being introduced to some interesting friends of those in attendance. Returning to the present, he wondered why these old recollections had overshadowed the primary questions before him:

"Who wrote these messages? What purpose would deep scrutiny of me serve?"

Under normal circumstances he would mention his present excitement, as well as his confusion to his son and nephew; but decided such would be premature. For him to think of calling on these two was ironic; as neither had military experience, and he had never discussed his successes, trials, the key assignments he had, or anything about honors garnered from his work with either of them before. Still, he agreed with himself that both would be the ones to call on, if he needed counseling. They were not reluctant to disagree with him and had no problem sharing their thoughts and feelings on questionable topics and concerns.

For some reason, he kept thinking of these two young men, and imagined what they would say to him about this situation. He imagined his son, Anderson, would say something like:

Dad, in my opinion you will not be able to guess the identity of the person who sent the documents. If you had anything to do with his being expert at his business, you must give him credit for being able to remain a mystery. My guess is that you will be as glad to see him as he will be to see you.

In the same way, he made up the exchange of words between his nephew, Keith Bynam, and himself:

Uncle, when you get back, I want to hear your take on how you escaped being made a general officer; but for now, you should know they want you principally because you are a truly unusual man. Do you remember what I wrote inside the cover of the book I gave you entitled, ‘The Measure of A Man,’ by Sidney Poitier?’

I do; it was a great compliment. You wrote: ‘The measure of a man? All you need to do is look at my uncle.’

Well, with that in mind, if you can recall the sincere tributes paid you at the banquet in your honor last year, that should tell you of the hundreds who remember you still, as irreplaceable. Now, as they say, ‘That’s all she wrote.’

At home again in his mind, and moved by the imaginary comments he had devised for his son and nephew, he decided to do something he had never done before. He would review a litany of possible things that could make him be seen as much different from others of his age and station. Among his many thoughts were the following:

I am a black man, although thanks to the overriding sentiment held by most leaders in the Army, I have not been hindered much in being so. Black to the bone, but with skills for being each of the four personality colors. I have no preference for color among my associates; and am much like the old commanding general, who said that he saw the servicemen and women in his multi-colored outfit in one color — green.

I have been involved with some great people, including: Emperor Haile Selassie, of Ethiopia, who I briefed on the special forces mission; Saudi Arabia’s King Abdullah, who, when crown prince, needed my help in planning to defend his palaces against terrorists and in protecting his VIP visitors; and General Colin Powell, who calls me by my nickname. I