Colonel Crystal's Parallel Universe

The books fictional protagonist, Colonel Alva A. Crystal, U.S.A.F (ret.), points out and argues in some detail that ubiquitous overseas intervention by the U.S. military in the past few decades, not only stifles American economic competitiveness and viability, but has done far more harm than good to both America’s image and global stability. The outstanding result is that the United States is viewed worldwide not implausibly as the most dangerous country and the leading obstacle to world peace and prosperity. Col. Alva Crystal, a troubled and sympathetic flesh-and-blood character and something of a scholar, desperately heralds a return to the defense-only military mission that prevailed in the U. S. during its formative years. Such a return to what Colonel Crystal refers to and touts as a Benevolent Military would, he claims, effectively serve to address and repair much of what plainly has gone haywire with this country since 9/11

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Colonel Crystal's Parallel UniverseA NovelBy James HufferdTrine Day LLCCopyright © 2019 James HufferdAll rights reserved.ISBN: 978-1-63424-168-7Contentscover, Title Page, Copyright Page, Dedication, Ace Flyboy Goes Native, The Berserker Baron of Steinhatchee, Too Many Damned Wars, More Facets, Deeper Thoughts, A Different Trajectory, The Woman Thang, The Berserker's "Familiar Entities", Reveries of an Attack, Bereft of Reprisal, Versus the Swamp Bug, Poly-tics = Many Small Irritating Beasts, Emergence Eludes, So, Dream On, Officer, Sir!, A Looming Object, Realizations, The Lecturer, Fever Dreams, A Return, PTSD, Montmoracy in Steinhatchee, Prelude to Insubordination Most Foul, Maximum Creativity – Opposing the Official Line, Plotting the Unsinkable, Malignant Myths That Have Become General Operating Assumptions:, Pending Moves, Felicia, Felicia's Return, And the Beat Goes On, Idyllic Days, Falls The Hammer, Navigating Very Thin Ice, Roosting Chickens, Bummer Dreams, The Vow, Doubts Rush In, Dueling Damsels, Personal Stuff, Of Being Misled, Adversity at the AIS Special Forum, Cruel Aftermath, Firmed Conviction, Repercussions Cometh, Drifting In and Out, Dreams, Myths, and Honchos, Constable Buddy Mack, Tom Posey, What Sort of a Codicil?, Shift of Focus, So, What Is the Purpose Again?, Twilight's Last Gleaming, Way of Reckoning, Correction, Uneasy Aftermath, Drastic Fallout, Writing on the Wall, Slams Down The Hammer, Contents, Landmarks, CHAPTER 1Ace Flyboy Goes NativeSubpoenaed ex-Colonel A. A. Crystal was trying his utmost to be reasonable. "My question is, why can't we ratchet back exclusively to a legitimate mission for our armed forces, to let our nation and the world breathe free, unshackled?" This time, his interrogator, Dr. Kiffin, an enlisted man the colonel was unfamiliar with attached to the Psych Unit at the base, growled, "I'll ask the questions. Such matters are not for you to decide or crusade for. I am obliged to tell you this: unless you are willing, Mr. Alva A. Crystal, to recant and renounce your idiotic campaign, or whatever it is you care to call it ...""... I will lose my pension. Is that about right?""Well, you could ... if you're lucky."Colonel Crystal, ordered next to report forthwith to Tyndale U.S. Air Force Base's "Radiation Unit", was handed on his much-delayed return to the Psych Unit an "Affidavit of Agreement" and a pen and, unobserved, signed it and marked the second box – "Decline."* * *The resolved ex-Colonel's sweeping vision, beyond the scale of a small town, had become clear. On fire, he studied the pastor, Jonah Jules's, face intently as he spoke for signs of assent."I'm convinced," he said, "that, even if perhaps a dozen or a score of American lives are or have been saved that would otherwise be lost, by our trillions-of-dollars of violent and massively terrorizing, deadly and deadening, unasked-for worldwide infestation of American power decade after decade – which I seriously doubt, by the way – the hundreds of thousands eventually untold millions of human lives lost and wrecked past salvaging in the process, make it manifestly not worth it." Jonah's resistance to his argument was shredded.* * *Whoosh! Bam! Argh!! Hon. Dr. Alva A. Crystal, retired Air Force Colonel from the Middle East wars, traumatized and turned peace activist, or "peacenik", awoke with a raucous and disconcerting start, as always, at 7:01 on the dot that early December morning, in his secluded combination retirement and work compound, at Steinhatchee, on Gulf-side north Florida's "forgotten coast," still badly shaken by another spate of half-remembered, appalling PTSD-fueled dreams. With his wife, Felicia, off again at her ailing mother's side in Charlotte, one particular, horrifying dream that had him working in an observatory, a place he'd never actually been, had left its mark for the fourth time in as many nights.An hour later, after the poached egg, fruit, and a biscuit their maid Ludmilla served him on a silver tray, he faced his de facto "staff", all sitting side-by-side on the hammock, birds on a wire, for about six-point-five seconds there in his so-called "conference room," a big sun porch screened on three sides jutting toward the Gulf breezes looking out on a field of tall, green snake grass dotted with numerous mangroves and a cypress knee or two next to the water. Still, he dearly loved the three. And they did do some helpful things, like run errands, respond sometimes to ideas. But couldn't connect to his real-life adopted passion: the megacrisis of U.S. military deployment and mission.There was Kit, an over-grown local kid, with a rather thin but distinguishing handlebar mustache. There was Fred, the average-size, above-average IQ, fair-haired high school quarterback a few years back, now between computer repair jobs, who'd skipped college because it didn't pay for his advanced pro-fishing gear. And then there was the whiz-kid, though curiously a bit shiftless, Rensselaer-grad nephew, Colby Gilibray, down from Rochester since two years ago, when he had first come to spend a summer. Colonel Crystal sent the first two off in Colby's late-model red Buick on an errand to deliver a short translation from Spanish to his wife's friend, Mrs. Alice Ferris, twelve miles distant in Cross City, and to get copies of daily newspapers.The Colonel stretched his long frame halfway across the table and spoke, in a lowered voice, to his kith, kin and prospective understudy, as though someone might be eavesdropping: "Colby, you won't believe what came across the transom this morning." Colby Edward, his elder sister Margaret's only son, vaguely chastised by half-acknowledged earlier brushes with the authorities over minor amounts of drugs, was uncharacteristically all ears."You know who Will Goldsby is?" "Well, yeah. Sure ...""I've personally heard this morning from one of his handlers, or I should say 'attendants', a Mr. Conrad Lawrence, a lawyer I met once at a Knicks game, sending out a sort of APB to certain of us want-to-be and a few real detectives, as it were, insisting that Goldsby is an innocent man – a playboy, sure (in his words), even more than possibly a rascal. But, really, an innocent man. And an absolutely great, world-changing man – at least to listen to him – who's being socked with accusations to destroy his reputation and legacy, see? Or that's what he said.""But, his people would say that, wouldn't they?" the equally tall, strapping boy-man surprisingly shot back. "I mean what else are they going to say, with all that's come out? But ..."Colonel Crystal raised his hand, signaling for his nephew to desist. "Please. I wasn't going to ask what you think of Will Goldsby or his accusers," he said. "Because, everybody in the world is thinking that, all thinking the same thing – that he's a dirty, sniveling ogre. You know why?"Colby drew a blank."Because we're supposed to think that. That's the way the media works. But think about this. The media has spent a lot of time and precious breath, and spilt a whole lot of ink, hours of air time, steadily, for three or four weeks now, to make sure you do think that. Now, why would they decide to go to all that trouble and expense for such a venture?""To titillate the public.""There's that. But why would they need to convince anybody that he's guilty, if it really was such an open-and-shut, obvious situation? Of course, that's what anyone would think after the number they've done on him. Why would thirteen, or is it twenty-plus, women, even a lot more than that by now, maybe as many as fifty, all come up with nearly identical stories accusing this supposed arch-scamp, Goldsby, of drugging and raping them, if it wasn't true? Ah! Good question, eh? If it wasn't true at least in a few or most, of the instances? At least, that's what we're supposed to think. And maybe it really is true."The ex-colonel, who seemed to have morphed from an old, retired guy into a vital, earnest man, due to some attention from a celebrity's handler, had a most disconcerting way of staring straight through a person."I thought your passion was something about military deployment and mission, how it could be stood down and contained, to unshackle the world or something.""Well yes, actually ...""But back to Will Goldsby for just a moment. Yes, it could be true," he conceded. "In fact, it seems like it probably is. In fact, it could all be exactly as they allege." "Could be?" Colby muttered, inheriting his estranged, erstwhile dad's infuriating habit of not suffering fools – even his uncle and host – gladly. "And just how, pray tell, couldn't or wouldn't it be true – guilty as alleged so overwhelmingly?" "Well ... somebody might have made it, let us say, very attractive for them all to say that, that he did all that, if it's not completely true from evidence. Sweetened it a little bit, let's say, to bring down someone uppity. Just maybe.""No, Alva," Colby responded surprisingly. "Why can't you stick to that new anti-military stuff you've been spouting? I think I kind of agree on that, though it's probably not practicable. They probably won't listen to a retired guy. Look, about that Will Goldsby thing – those women all said pretty much the same thing, didn't they? He drugged 'em, and he raped 'em. Weren't you telling me about Occam's razor, or whatever it is? By the way, who's this 'Occam'? Why do you make it all so hard?""But, on the other hand," Colonel Crystal demurred, "do you even know, really, what – who – this man Goldsby is, Colby? What he means in the greater scheme of things? I'm not sure you're old enough to remember that. But it does matter, you know that?""I've seen more than a couple of re-runs of it. Yeah, I know those accusations don't line up with his on-air big, nice, soft personality very well. But surely, you're not completely taken in by that, are you, Unc?" "No, it's not that, not really that ... Maybe he did do it. He probably did, I agree. But ...""I suppose you think that O.J. didn't do it, too?"You do remember that, right? Well, not according to a very persuasive book by a man named William C. Dear, who I don't take for a complete nut, and who seems to know, he didn't – his opinion, for a reason you'd never think of. And remember, the jury wasn't convinced.""So, what exactly did this memo you got, from Will Goldsby's 'handler' – as you put it – say?"Colonel Alva gazed out the window, over the sheen of salt marsh to the Gulf. "Well, he reminded us that every accused individual needs and deserves a fair and thorough investigation. For our sake even more than his. Everyone. That's the American way, or supposed to be... And his people are at a loss, because he tells them ... He tells his wife, Camie, that he vaguely remembers some of the women, from his younger days, before he was married, I think. But he says he's sure he wouldn't and didn't do that."Colonel Crystal paused, then, "You know, you're probably right, Colby," he said again. "He most likely did that stuff, or something like it. But, again, think – why would he do such things? It wasn't a joke, I can tell you that. And he wouldn't have needed to. I'm sure he could have gotten all the women he could handle anyway, you know? Or so they're saying – Conny Lawrence, my contact, says. they want some of us in a known circle of self-described, would-be detectives, or what they're calling us 'detective lights', to consider investigating who could be responsible for bringing out all this stuff.""Alva, here we go again," Colby objected. "Why are you so unwilling to accept the obvious?""Obvious, I don't know. Let's say 'apparent'. Because, it is something that matters. Or else, no deceptions would ever be mounted in the first place, and you know that the world is full of them, don't you? Let me tell you something. My motto is, never accept anything spoon-fed by anyone who's proven unworthy of your trust. And you trust the justice system? It's true, they may well be exploiting something that actually did happen, in this case, at least. But, never, ever swallow anything from public media or the powers that be untested, either by you or by someone smart you know you can trust. I don't know Goldsby, but I'm afraid I do know the powers that be. All too well."Colby stepped out to look for his returning Buick, with Kit in his feathered Marlins cap behind the wheel, leaving his uncle with a pained expression, eyes closed, sighing, shaking his own head. "Ask yourself this: Why does Goldsby even need a 'handler'? Do you need a 'handler'?"Later, only an hour or so late, Colonel Alva Crystal laid back and had a fleeting dream in which peasants' roadside bombs had magically turned into mini-nukes and his whole squadron of trained pilots in F-16's was mysteriously blown out of the sky by vastly superior weapons fired from some invisible air or ground locations, and then instantly replaced by untold numbers of same sent out from headquarters over his most impassioned, tearful objection. And this morphed into another equally troubling dream in which Felicia, his absent wife, having arrived home, overheard his latest conversation with Colby and delivered her own verdict coolly as she exited the sitting room: "Alva, you're a dolt."Alva followed behind, immediately entering the solarium, to behold an ever-smiling, chuckling Will Goldsby there already, leaning far forward over Felicia. Who, instantly transfixed in awe, was bent over backward, supine and open-mouthed, resembling a bird. The ex-Colonel, transfixed himself, could only ogle and gasp.CHAPTER 2The Berserker Baron of SteinhatcheeOnce again just after noon that same day, as on nearly every day for months, Colonel Crystal, a highly-unconventional fellow in his assessments, but a man with at least a bit of flair remaining personally, reclined for half an hour on his comfortably soft old saffron sofa, his legs extended and elevated and feet resting on the high arm, and slept immediately like a baby. For such was his most cherished personal daytime talent. Within less than a minute, he found himself ascending steep metal steps again, into the same unidentified mountain-top observatory as always and entering via its ovular metal hatch. As was customary, he mounted a high, free-standing stool to peer into an enormous telescope eye-piece, to scan a cloudless deep-azure darkening sky. And, as always of late, his expansive fish-eye view suddenly came to be dominated by a distinct invasive sunlit, spherical object approaching rapidly, growing bigger each successive day, starting, it seemed, months before, beginning the size of a bb or a gnat, then a dime, and now appearing the mind-wrenching size of a beach ball through the giant lens, growing steadily bigger as it continued its approach.And again, today, he called for his silent lab mate, a gentle man named Harold, to come have a look. And, as always before, this mysterious, stoic co-worker came over reluctantly and crawled out onto what they called the "wind stool" to have a look, declaring again immediately, without the least irritation, that he couldn't see a thing. And Colonel Crystal also, as always, didn't curse or yell at him, call him a blockhead or anything of the kind, but merely cast around frantically for someone else to "come take a look!" And once again despaired, realizing there was no one else present.Awakening, shaking and sweating, close to tears of frustration, he realized only by stages, as always, that it had only been a dream. Only a dream ... Only a ...Yet he remained tense inside, his stomach gathered into an uncomfortable clench."What could this mean?" he whispered loudly, fairly whimpering to himself, fully back within the lonely privacy of his Florida compound again. "Why would I dream about such a thing, over and over and over and ... Every time, the meteor, or whatever it is, races closer, looks like it's about to obliterate the earth! And no one else on earth knows. So, there's never any chance of corroboration or explanation, anything like that.. Never." It had begun to seem the planet depended on him and him alone – to do what?"And besides that, who in the world could that one lone guy, who's always there next to me and doesn't see it, be? Who is he supposed to represent? And why is it he can't ever see what I see? Why? Others talk, say I can see too clearly, what isn't even there, they say. But, why me always, and only me? Could it be that all others won't see it, because they can't face it? Absolutely no one anywhere ever raises the alarm! Is that because the catastrophe is seen as simply immutable? trivial because unavoidable? Because it is not a media-peddled myth perhaps? Involves forces too big maybe? Again, of course, it's only a dream, But still, no one else! Why such a dream? No one ever! Never! And no remedies! Even dream remedies! Why? Why? Why? What's the purpose? Why four times in a one week, each time more menacing? I know it's not real, may be an allegory, or ... but, still ... I'm not sure I even want to know, or ever sleep again! Not in the daytime ..."Getting up, he shuffled in his tasseled slippers to the parlor window, looking out on his wild but lovely "courtyard," as he called it, tranquil at midday, with its palms and concrete benches, sawgrass, its barbeque smoke pit lit up by the sun in the silence of approaching early afternoon."They ain't no shrinks in Steinhatchee," he reminded himself in his mock-up approximation to Cracker talk and his faux self-reproach. "Nope! Just them old county boys down the line ..."And, with that, he threw his robe on and traipsed back across the parlor to the kitchen and started his time-worn waking and stretching exercises all over again. As every day, now that he was out of service, and just as when he'd gotten up earlier that morning, to face the remains of the day to come sane as anybody.CHAPTER 3Too Many Damned WarsFew would deny that Colonel Crystal was rather peculiar, and in some ways, a perverse, man. What Colonel Alva Crystal did after he retired was unheard-of. But, we'll get to that ..."Who in blazes is this AF Colonel Alva Abelard Crystal, Retired?" John V. Deggit of the Federal Investigation Bureau (FIB) was asking everyone in sight a day later while sifting through untold numbers of files, cyber, card, bound paper, and old and new ledger books for an answer. A fellow by that particular name and distinction was again making a lot of the same sort of inquiries, now on one particular matter, as had not uncommon for him for some time, asking something like "Who is who? Who is saying who is who? Who is saying who is saying who is who's saying, and who isn't? etc., etc.." That sort of thing – proving most plaintively to Deggit's whole team, if nothing else, that more than one can play that kind of game. (Continues...)Excerpted from Colonel Crystal's Parallel Universe by James Hufferd. Copyright © 2019 James Hufferd. Excerpted by permission of Trine Day LLC. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

About the Author

James Hufferd earned a Bachelor's degree in History at Iowa State University, a Master's in International Studies at University of Wyoming, and a Ph.D. in Geography at University of Minnesota. He has taught in elementary schools and universities, and has traveled and researched in 19 countries.

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