It has been a long time since I have written about my life, but life often deals us hands which we do no want nor care to try. Thus now I must tell my story because those who would be my tormentors insist upon beating me into the ground , knuckling down and saying uncle, the vise of barbarians. My name is Justin and I am a soldier in the U.S. Army currently stationed in Afghanistan. I do not plan on re-enlisting or having anything to do with the military or government after this tour, how it came to this is a long story, which I am now obliged to share .
I write this post now, to highlight Hypocrisy, the Hypocrisy of democracy and those who make the claim. I have lived and walked through the halls of those who make the claim, and I like many before and after are the unnamed targets of those who would abuse power for their of evil banality. Most of my mental coercion occurred and continues to occur while in the service of the U.S. Army. I am stationed at FOB Fenty Afghanistan with the HHC 3BCt 25ID (more like 325 BSB-I was lied to by the people who brought me to the Brigade)
In my early child we were told and recited the mythical legends,; that in America the streets were a paved with gold, that things were cheap there, you could by 2 pair of shoes for two dollars, over bloated stories children were told, of which I never believed. Later I would find out that there was an office in a specific department responsible for such stories spread throughout the world of Latin America.
I was born in the capital of the Republic of Guyana a dutch, then former British colony for more than one hundred and fifty years until 1966, when it gained independence under questionable circumstances and then a republic in 1971.
I remember the moments and years of those early years as if they were today in the here and now, the smells, sites,sounds people and faces, why and how I do not know I always had a vivid mind. Those early years in Guyana were an adventure for me and the people with whom I shared those years with. My earliest memories were of my mother abandoning me on my great-aunt Mary (Princess Mary Kidd-Deceased) back step (long back stairway that runs up a stilted house) in a little village called Beterverwagtin (BV for short) with a pitched fever, to go on her usual excursions I was maybe 5 or six years old. She came to pick me up and aunt Mary refused to send me back and there I stayed with my childless aunt in a big house with white picket fences and our neighbors.
The story of my mental coercion and attempted subterfuge began more than a decade ago if not much earlier than that, (It was my explicit task to experience this coercion and attempted manipulation to the very end so that I would know the tactics training and procedures of banally evil people) I guess they wanted to groom me for some grand purpose to be some minority lackey to sell to the world, kind of like Mr Obama (Few people in the world knows the real story of Mr Obama and I’m not talking about the conspiracy theories).
Upon graduation from John Adams High School I had made the conscious decision to go to college, little did I know of the hurdle put into place to prevent me from reaching that goal. I first encountered a group whose influence is wide but not very far in the form of A.L.L.E.N AME Transportation, who runs the A.L.L.E.N AME Baptist Church in Jamaica NY.
This part of the story is important because there is a connection with the Mary Immaculate Hospital Lab (Now Closed Permanently) in which I worked during my junior and senior year of high school. These people do cover their tracks, but there are others more skilled.
Shall I continue?
They tried using at first Caucasians but the prospect of blatant racism popping up its ahead, made them change tactics, so they resorted to Hispanics and African-Americans and it was the African-Americans and other Blacks who I encountered were more aggressive in their attempts at coercion (sick and desperate people). They thought because I am Black (Afro-Guyanese) that I would not put up a fuss and it would be difficult to make a complaint (as was the case with the black soldiers they put in place at every level of the IG (Inspector General) at Schofield Barracks Hawaii) they were wrong. I am reminded of the historical context of divide and conquer, when Europeans or the dominant hegemons wanted to manipulate the masses they used the natives against the natives. At every turn there was an African-American or someone black soldier there to counter my ideas, thoughts, and beliefs.
“Well wouldn’t you like to be Rich and Famous they intoned,” as always my reply is NO. I have no vices (I don’t smoke, drink, do drugs, I don’t love money, I am not materialistic, I am not a sex addict, I don’t like to gamble etc) that they could effectively manipulate, so they turned to outright subterfuge and workplace sabotage. Like moths to a flame they came my ways as it was meant to be.
It is stated U.S. Army policy to perform mental coercion on their soldiers in the case of Schofield Barracks Hawaii it was directed under a certain command at USARPAC.
They used soldiers that were scheduled to ETS ,change units, pending article 15’s, pending discharges, civilians, and contractors against those whom they wanted to coerce. In my case they went through my personal records, followed me, monitored phone calls, internet traffic, and purchases (Yes I do KNOW), who I was in contact with, family members (whom all of them are dead to me) and coworkers (whom I never did nor do trust) for the preceding reasons.
It was and is a meager sophisticated process which I plan to outline in detail in the next few pages, but the most interesting set up of all is at Schofield Barracks Hawaii.