X Rubicon - Author Statement

w/ chapter Baby - #5 – July 1980

from X Rubicon (2022)

Statement of the Author

Included in this work is a letter from the ODNI requesting that this work appear to be fiction. With that in mind, the following shall suffice to meet that requirement:

It is impossible to load this account with lies to further an immoral agenda. THIS WORK IS FICTION in the sense of the lies, corruption, propaganda, and false agendas which made it possible. To suggest that the truth must become a lie, or that truth become subservient to a false and egregious cause is unacceptable and impossible. That said, THIS WORK IS NOT FICTION. Some people will believe nothing. Some will refuse to believe that which they know to be true. Some will readily believe that which they know to be untrue. Some will make excuses for lying and corruption. Rarely will a person believe anything without question – there’s ALWAYS motivation.

Many years ago a great man, Abraham Joshua Heschel, wrote a great book, A Passion For Truth. I am an atheist, yet this philosophic Jewish scholar touched my heart. He wrote about his life long endeavor struggling to come to terms with Love and Mendacity existing simultaneously. He gave the mythic account of Truth being despised by its fellows, Mercy and Righteousness – and Truth was buried in the ground (by God – imagine that):

“Mercy and Truth collided;

Righteousness and Peace engaged in a clash”

“Truth wants to emerge, but man does not want its appearance… They think they dance, yet they are paralyzed. Delusion holds them enraptured. They feel so comfortable in the clutches of their self-deception that when Satan himself embraces them, they think he is in love with them.”

This then, is what we are facing here. The Mendacity of the United States Government and its agent of destruction, the CIA (and Zionism), and its Citizenry – unchecked and unbalanced, thinking Satan is in love with them. The colonial powers in the world still run amok creating evil for profit.

Names have been changed to comply with the requirements. Some names have been changed to protect those who need protection. Some have been changed to that which fits the individual’s real or pretended character. Some names are so well known it doesn’t matter what the fuck we call them (just don’t call them late for feeding on the government teats), so we leave their names as they exist because they deserve it and because their words and deeds have already become part of a vast public record.

“The challenge we face is a test of our integrity. We are all on trial, we are all under judgment. The issue is not political or social expediency. The issue is whether we are morally strong, whether we are… worthy to answer… Shall we continue to be deaf, shall we continue to be sensitive only when our own needs and interests are involved?

“We have attained a high standard of living. We must seek to attain a high standard of thinking… There is nothing in the world that may be regarded as holy as eliminating anguish, as alleviating pain.”

The Insecurity Of Freedom – Abraham Joshua Heschel

About Sean & Rubicon and the book

My name is pronounced gree-OH-tah (give the “r” a little flip). X Rubicon is a Love or hate read, corresponding to the types of Americans and colonialists with which you are (or should be) familiar. Rubicon and I are combat veterans. We are not proud of our "service". No one should be proud of such things. X Rubicon is Rubicon’s first-hand military experience in CIA proxy wars. The depth of his pain and experience, that I have personally witnessed, moved me to convince him, along with his wife, to open up and detail the events which changed him through time. Ignorance of the American (and other colonial) people is at the heart of much of the cause and effect. I have great respect for Rubicon, all combat veterans (excepting psychopaths), and all who must face the evils of their life or past and actually commit themselves to examination and change. I despise zealots of religion, politics, money, ego, etc... My writing is ferocious in this regard, yet deeply caring for the person involved in dealing with the propaganda and lies which led to the committing of atrocities. I've known Rubicon since the lead-up to Operation Eagle Claw; I knew Rubicon in training; I knew Rubicon in action. I'm committed to changing America's love affair with the military (at any cost) and educating against fascism (of any stripe).

Regarding X Rubicon: The process for getting this experience to print was LONG and difficult. I met Rubicon for the first time in 1979, being one of the Army Rangers who participated in his training, then again in 1980. My Ranger team submitted a plan for the mission in Mexico that Rubicon was assigned; and I followed his path with great interest. I received word of his separation in January 1982, complete with details from contacts. I felt he was ill-used and abused; and his experience and separation haunted me for decades. In 2015 I finally tracked him down and reintroduced myself. We spent a good deal of time crying (we still do). He told me about his missions, and he told me about the surreptitious email to Salvadoran officials discussed in the book. He had been writing letters and requests to various military and government officials for info since that time (prior to 2007 he had sent more); none of these were even acknowledged. Then he decided to try something a little more dangerous; he started sending requests with details of classified information concerning the missions to military command officers on open channels, including a Colonel in Air Force Special Operations (this is also discussed in the book). This Colonel responded with a demand to keep quiet, and because of the information on open channels, he forwarded Rubicon's letter to the Office of the Director of National Intelligence (ODNI), and Rubicon awaited a response.

Rubicon received the ODNI response in May 2021. I was blown away. To me, and Rubicon, it seemed the individual took some pity on Rubicon's plight. A forensic psychologist we shared this with concurred. That letter laid down certain parameters, primarily: 1) permission was granted to write about these missions; however, 2) all names had to be changed; and, "You may not use actual operational locations"; and, "The account should appear to be fictional". We had already committed to changing names. We discussed the strictures for awhile, and knowing they would expect to review a final transcript, we decided to be more literal with their words; and, after legal consultation, we published a preview book in May 2022 without giving them a review, as we're both getting older and question our lifespan; that review probably would have taken years and the process would have given us heart attacks. We decided "actual operational locations" meant town/village names and actual GPS coordinates (which we had) so we backed out to country level and directional regions (for the most part). We decided "appear" and “fictional” were unworkable, and this is dealt with in the author statement (above). We felt the strictures were too tight, and in order to support the work, we decided that since the ODNI letter was not marked for classification, and was sent via USPS R&C, and it was now Rubicon's property, we redacted a copy and placed it in the book as a chapter (4 pages). They got hold of the preview book after publication, threats were made back and forth, much anger was expressed, but it finally settled down and they accepted it as is, including the redacted ODNI letter, mostly because of our "service". They could have quashed it, but they didn't. However, two more letters arrived for each of us (marked confidential ;) stating much harsher reactions if we tried something like that again.

Prior to receipt of that first letter I had spent the better part of 3 years tracking down pilots, flight engineers, electronic warfare officers (EWOs), gunners, spotters, crew chiefs, mechanics, Rangers, SEALS, CIA analysts and agents (retired and active), US State Dept personnel (retired and active), DoDIA personnel (retired), DEA personnel (retired), and many others, including Colombians, Salvadorans, and Guatemalans; verifying facts, sentiments, and timelines. Because of the road blocks, even with all that, we both feel we wouldn't have been able to effectively publish without that ODNI letter; Rubicon, in his own right, is an excellent and forceful motivational writer (and he contributes to our Substack regularly – Crossing Rubicons - along with his wife).

Research stats tell us that detractors of this book fall into the following categories: 1) Zionists; 2) Non-Combat Pretenders (NCP non-combat military personnel, especially recruiters; and Biden, Trump, Harris lovers, most Democrats & Republicans, Rolfs (basically neo-nazis); 3) Virgins Talking About Sex (NCP and civilian war mongers and lovers of the military); 4) Psychopaths (NCP, veterans, and more Zionists again) & Sociopaths; 5) Sexual Prudes (which ironically includes conservative gays) and those who lie about or don’t understand the biological requirements of sex; 6) people who are functionally illiterate ("Merica!). You'll see "reviews" by people who have not read the book (or they’re one of the above who’ve read an excerpt on social media (Our article “Dear Zionist” resulted in the friend of the instigating recipient writing a “review” without having read the book)); and those who have skimmed the book to find what they want to hate, usually related to one of the categories above.

Learn more about the author and Rubicon at Substack @seangriobhtha. We offer a 40% discount for book clubs, student groups, humanitarian groups, We Are Not Your Soldiers groups, Veterans for Peace groups, & more: Inquire at O.Griobhtha+XRubicon at gmail.

*****

from X Rubicon (2022)

Baby

#5 – July 1980

How could anyone hate you?!?

– Mrs Seinfeld

With every child born, a new expectation enters the world.

Differences – A Passion For Truth – Abraham Joshua Heschel

You wouldn’t think Guatemala would ever feel cold, but the day was rainy and it felt cold to me, chilling me to my bones. There was no way to stay dry. The convoys I had been assigned were not pleasant to understate it. At this point I understood I was halting weapons shipments to communist rebels and killing the communist rebels traveling with the weapons. Seems simple enough, doesn’t it? But the Guatemalan Army, though forceful and vicious when in numbers against no threat whatsoever, couldn’t handle determined rebels with weapons. So even though they had been trained by commanders who had received the best training in being egregiously vicious by the US military and the School Of The Americas, they couldn’t take on active rebel units that would fight back, because they would lose – their lives and their government. So the fascist right-wing Guatemalan government did what all such kind do… they kissed the US’ ass and let the CIA do all the work for them (unless of course it’s an unarmed village of 1000 where they killed everyone – man, woman, and child; or, the family accused of being communist and they go in the middle of the night to strangle every man, woman, and child – and the dog, the cat, and expose the goldfish to the air).

If the CIA feels ANY thing to be a threat to the US, so BROADLY determined, then they have authority to engage US military force strikes. The CIA likes to make its partners feel good, so the US strikes, and the dictators or oligarchs in charge reap the rewards for such devastating decision and action.

So this is what I was doing there on this cold and rainy night, waiting in ambush for a weapons convoy which would have several hundred rebel personnel moving to a new location. I had come in from ~5km south. I planted my road charges and charged a few trees front and back. There was no clearing, with quite a bit of overhang along the route, so I used markers for the front end, the middle, and back, by the road. The gunships would pick up these signals, but I would have to laser paint as many of the large trucks as possible to make sure cargo areas would be hit. Around 0130 the gunships arrived and loitered. They saw headlights and heat signatures coming down the road and dropped to attack altitude and position. I told them to fire when I blew the front and back road and trees.

The lead vehicle was a 4wd truck with a 40cal machine gun mounted in the bed. I blew the road and trees. The lead vehicle flew into the air in flames and the tree crashed down across the road. The gunships fired all weapons unceasingly. I went along the line targeting certain trucks to have them blown apart by 105mm shells and targeting rebels with my rifle and firing on them. The Gatling guns rained 20mm shells up and down the line almost non-stop. 40mm shells exploded randomly here, there, and everywhere.

I believe the gunships emptied there supply of 20mm shells, thousands of rounds, each one with the rough explosive force of a grenade, many of them red phosphorus tracers. Some 105 shells contained white phosphorus which burns with intensity until its chemical reaction is complete. It sticks to skin and clothing and causes a chemical burn beyond the measurement of ordinary pain.

At the end of these, the gunships always say they’ve gotta go, watch out for those that are living, and say good luck with “Clean Up”, the CIA’s euphemistic catch phrase for making sure EVERYONE is dead. This required walking (crawling, etc...) the convoy line looking for people to kill. It’s depressing no matter how you attempt to justify it. I was still relatively new at this task, and I already despised it. But before you understand, you believe that you’re doing something toward the right end. You know, They are in important positions, and they just wouldn’t lie to you… would they?

I reached the end of the convoy, all weapons destroyed, everyone dead… But I heard a baby cry, yet convinced myself that was crazy. Then I heard it louder and followed it. A baby lay in a sling carrier by the side of the road, under some large foliage. It was a beautiful dark and coppery molasses color with big dark eyes. It had a shrapnel wound in its upper left arm. I cleaned my hands with alcohol, and I felt for any piece of metal and bone damage, and the baby wailed. But there was no damage. I looked around to see who the mother might have been, but there were several women rebels in this convoy and nothing seemed obvious. I re-sanitized the wound and bandaged the arm, and the baby continued to cry. I knew I had to get out of there, and the baby had to come with me.

Leaving the baby was not an option. Government troops, who would be directed to the scene by the CIA, would arrive first to claim a success, and they would kill the “communist” baby. I couldn’t take it back with me, as I thought the CIA would kill it or hand it over to Guatemalan governmental authorities who would have it killed; and my Lt Weasel would have conniptions if I brought it back to base.

On my route back to extraction was a side path to a village ~3km off my track. I decided that was the baby’s best chance. I put the sling around my shoulder with the baby below my face, placed my rain poncho over it, and we skedaddled. It cried for awhile, and while I did have some penicillin and pain killer, I had no idea what or how much I could give it of anything, so I just let it jiggle and finally when I peeked in, it looked at me and smiled, and I thought I was going to cry.

We reached the side path to the village, but a new problem presented itself. My radio, always on, even when squelched, gave location signals on me. If I turned on this path, they would know it. I decided I had to turn the radio off for the time it took to go 3km, find a place for the baby, and 3km back. I knew if my radio were out too long they might send in a search and rescue team, and then the shit would hit the fan. I turned off the radio and began running on an unfamiliar slippery mud path holding a baby against my chest. A few times I almost tripped or wiped out, which made me panic for the baby. But eventually we arrived at the village. There were no lights, but even through the rain the moon provided some light, and I saw a small church. The front door was deep into the wall, and it had a roof over the entrance, so the baby wouldn’t be rained on. I put the bulk of my rain poncho underneath it, wrapped the rest of the poncho over it leaving its face exposed, and told it how brave it was and stroked its cheek. The door had a rope pull for a bell, and I pulled it fast over and over and ran for the path. I could see the church door open, they saw the baby and took it inside.

I ran so hard and so fast to the trail head and switched on my radio but kept it squelched. I really didn’t feel like making up my lie just then. Taking a normal pace back to the extraction point I called for the extraction and was picked up in a Huey gunship and taken back to the airfield and back to Hurlburt. As expected, Lt Weasel was furious about my radio signal. There was no fucking way I would ever tell him what happened, so I told him I dropped it in the mud and it must’ve gotten too wet (which I knew was a bullshit reason). He yelled, he ranted, he raved, and I let him.

Afterward, Bill approached me and asked, “What the hell was that bullshit?” I told Bill. I told Bill everything because I trusted him to advise me without turning on me. I told him there was no fucking way I could leave that baby there to die. He told me he understood, but that getting involved may carry a heavy price for me at some point. He also was glad I didn’t tell the Lt, as he was sure it would have meant the end for me. (If only)

**********

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

Sean Griobhtha (gree-O-tah) is a combat veteran. His latest book is X Rubicon: Crossing Life, Sex, Love, & Killing in CIA Proxy Wars: An indictment of US Citizens: ignorantia non excusat, which details the life of Rubicon, another combat veteran. You can find him mostly on SubStack. He can be reached at O.Griobhtha+XRubicon@gmail.com. The Foreward (Vanguard) is important; written by a highly intelligent woman with a heart of empathetic gold; she’ll bring you in gently, which neither Rubicon nor I would ever do.