5th Generation Warfare Is Waged In The Mind, The Heart and the Soul

You are the battlefield

Hello there. Sorry I was away so long. I am glad to be writing again and I’ve had a long time to think about everything that has happened in the past five years. I was driven off the internet by death threats issued by somebody against my loved ones and I didn’t have a choice at the time. I believe these people were set into motion by a watchlist created internally by Google. You don’t have to believe that if you don’t want to, I am loathe to admit it out loud. I confess I am not a tough guy when it comes to the lives of others I care about and I care about more people than you would expect if you knew me. Some of them don’t care about me back but that didn’t change the fact I was genuinely worried about their safety.

I don’t know if they are going to come after me again or not so I am grateful for the time I have to write on this subject and to work on my other projects.

I want to tell you about an experience I had in 1983 in Baumholder, Germany when I was stationed there as part of the 1/83 Field Artillery in the 8th Infantry Division.

I’m warning you … my story is going to sound remarkably similar to one told by Bill Cooper, the author of Behold A Pale Horse. I’ll let you decide why that similarity is there - you could conclude I am inventing this story or that it is only a coincidence. I just wanted to mention that similarity in advance. I am convinced that I was being trolled just as Bill Cooper was when he described his “happening upon” top secret documents near the end of his enlistment. Bill seems to think the documents were planted there for him to find. They had identified him as a good mark to be an unwitting shill for false information. On the one hand, they had figured out they would not be able to recruit Bill so they decided instead to make a “whistleblower” out of him by causing him to believe he had arbitrarily stumbled upon something unbelievable. My story will end differently from Bill’s because I am not the same person and reacted differently.

I was on extended extra duty for an infraction that four independent witnesses confirmed I never committed. These witnesses spoke in front of the First Bird Colonel administering my “punishment” for my “crime” and he grew so angry his face flushed red that I had been brought forward on this charge. He said in front of everyone there this was the most trumped-up falsified charge he had ever seen in all his time adjudicating these disciplinary measures and told my superiors they should be ashamed of bringing these charges against me. What happened? Well, he then proceeded to declare punishment, saying like Pontius Pilate he wanted to wash his hands of the whole dirty affair. He said you didn’t need much judge of character to see I was possibly the most honest and unpretentious soldier to ever speak in his chambers. I told the Colonel if I’d been accused of being lax in my duties or failing to pay attention to detail I’d have nothing to say, that was likely accurate. Accusing me of this malfeasance was calling me a liar and I told him that like Superman, I never lie. I told him, I exaggerate nearly everything and would never lie about anything. I didn’t know at the time this is the classic profile for “Asperger’s Syndrome.”

Amongst my litany of disciplinary measures I was assigned for my remaining three months in Germany to attend at night in Division Artillery offices (“Divarty”) to help mop floors, clean offices and wash windows. We reported to a first Lieutenant and a Sergeant who worked the extra duty crew each night. It was nice relaxing work, nothing hard but it took a while to do the entire building and it was usually dark and cold outside when we finally finished. I think there were a half dozen other soldiers there working and most of them had committed serious offenses … drunk driving, AWOL, failed drug tests, etc.

A lot of them didn’t believe me when I told them I had been convicted of a Field Grade for eating in the mess hall while receiving extra rations pay. Most of them laughed and asked me what I really did. Even then I had a fairly aristocratic manner and some of them immediately assumed I was actually an officer (CID) placed undercover to spy on them working to see if I could get them to confess to something else. I got that quite a bit around soldiers all the time. Later in New York when I lived on the street and sold books, nearly everybody assumed I was undercover police the instant they met me because they said I just didn’t look like I belonged there.

Most nights I was the last man in the executive office vacuuming and emptying the trash cans. It was weird but they kept assigning me that duty instead of rotating it. Nobody else got it, once when the Sergeant went to point to me again for that duty he glanced sideways at the Lieutenant with a strange look as if he was confirming that for some reason, that work was to go to me.

Two weeks after I had been working there, I glanced into the trash can bag beside the copy machine and my heart leaped. We had been taught to recognize classified and secret materials in Basic Training and the procedure we were to follow was this:

1. Immediately claim and cover the materials

2. Do not read or examine any of the documents. Avert your eyes from the covers while handling them.

3. Take it to the nearest commissioned officer and tell him where you found it and under what conditions it was in

4. Report any suspicious activities you may have noticed before securing the documents

All I had glanced at was the COSMIC on the front page. I knew the symbol and recognized it immediately. I handed the papers over in a plastic opaque bag to the Lieutenant seated at his desk.

“Sir, I found these while cleaning the offices,” I said.

He eyed them and whistled. “You did really good Private. Very good.”

I explained to him they had been beside the copy machine in a bright red plastic bag in the trash can. He nodded like this was to be expected.

“Did you look at any of these, Private?” he looked me right in the eyes.

“No sir, I believe that is expressly against my standing orders,” I answered. He seemed disappointed. He asked my name again and made sure he got the spelling right. I discovered later that my conduct would normally warrant yet another Commendation Letter at a minimum. Some soldiers get medals for less.

The next night, it happened again. Same trash can, same spot, same bright red bag.

When turning them over again in his office, I contributed a little when he looked through them again. “Sir, the bright red bag would stand out in the regular garbage which would be disposed of at the German Civilian private facility. The red bag would be an excellent way to flag the materials to a German civilian on the outside in order to pass documents to him with some deniable culpability.”

He nodded and smiled a little. “That’s your analysis, Private?”

He didn’t seem interested because then he said, “Sure you didn’t sneak a peek this time at them?” I shook my head, no … “That would be a pretty big violation of my duty-of-care for the materials before bringing them here, Sir.”

He laughed sort of weird and said “Sure you don’t want to have a look at them now? I won’t tell anybody, honest …”

When he saw the look in my face he immediately pretended he had only been joking with me. He put the paperwork in his desk, closed it and locked it.

“Don’t worry, Private, this is a very serious matter. I will see to it that you get recognized for this and we will conduct an investigation into the matter. Get back to your duties, you’re running late.”

While walking down the hallway with a mop a couple minutes later, it occurred to me “Somebody wanted me to have a look at the documents and was probably shocked I didn’t. Most soldiers would have and then lied about it afterwards. They tried a second night and still couldn’t get me to violate my standing orders.”

I have always had a feeling that if I looked at the documents, they would have had me. Maybe they wanted to charge me with a real crime or even espionage. Maybe there was something in there they wanted me to see.

I’ve thought about these things for almost 40 years. You’re probably wondering what on earth all of this has to do with my headline.

It’s actually simple. I think I have not been killed yet because part of the entire beast system is getting you to kill yourself somehow. In these occult practices, you have to corrupt yourself before they can proceed with a good conscience and whack you. That’s what the vaccines were all about. You have to demonstrate you worship Lucifer and come in for the needle yourself. You provide the evidence for your own sentence.

I think I have been given the pass so far because I have been such a boy scout that the rules of their game do not permit me to be killed yet. Sometimes I think my ex-wife was only assigned me for one reason - to corrupt me sufficiently she could drag me down to hell with her. So they could act in good conscience against me when the time came. I am convinced that the dozen or so honeypot traps set for me were created to make an adulterer, a liar and a cheat out of me. They just couldn’t believe any man could actually go 25 years without sex, love or human contact even with beautiful women tasked to approach me outside of my marriage. That wasn’t supposed to happen and if it had I’d have been just another slob who had it coming because he was rotten.

So far at age 60 I have been a comic book superhero, albeit a pretty lame one. As long as that stands and because I didn’t roll my arm up for one of their needles, it is difficult to condemn me at the moment. I think this is not only part of the rule set that governs this cult, it is also what they consider great fun. I think maybe some of this was embedded in the original movie The Wicker Man (1973 Hammer). It was a revelation of the method. In the movie, Edward Woodward’s character dies because he remains a virgin and refuses to compromise his virtue.

It’s also possible for this reason that the first round of eliminations was on the low hanging fruit because they are saving the real quality sacrifices for later. The people they exterminated with the vaccines were not Wicker Man material … but possibly guys like me and you are. That’s the quality chickens for Moloch when the time comes.

I hope this hasn’t scared you as badly as I have scared myself.

Put all your trust in God and scripture and only take me with a grain of salt.

• Regards, Tex