During my military career, I discovered some things about myself. Though descended from warriors, I discovered that I was not (and am not) a warrior. I discovered also that I had no taste for military undertakings that were not truly a part of defense. (Many military efforts are represented as defense but, seemingly, are really something else.) At any rate, I decided to be a soldier as a small child, during World War II. Even though I honestly cannot qualify as a warrior, I believe my service was valuable to the United States of America. I did not enter upon a military career for the retirement benefits, but certain promises were made to me nevertheless. One of these was free medical care for myself and my spouse for the rest of our lives following my retirement. Any dependent children would have been included also (my children are middle-aged, and no longer dependent). A few years ago, it was required that my wife and I subscribe to Medicare Part B, in order to receive medical care (a couple hundred dollars a month -- no longer free). Now it is proposed that the earned benefits of military retirement, particularly health care, be reduced again. Any who served for the benefits alone should be sorely disappointed. In my case, I still have the satisfaction of having served, and I am not surprised at broken promises.

We are advised that happiness is possible only if we are not preoccupied with the past and the future – that we must learn to be present to the “now.” We are to appreciate the light on the cottonwood, the spring song of the cardinal claiming his territory, the texture of the loved-one’s cheek. Yes, it is in these things that happiness is to be found.

But what if there is more to life than happiness? What if the past has value? What if there are lessons provided by the past? What if the key to knowing yourself is learning your heritage? What if the aggregate of all the positive contributions of all past generations are meant for your custody, and succeeding generations are waiting anxiously in the wings?

What if we are not the ultimate center of the universe (or “multiverse”)? What if those who come after are as important as we are? Or more important? What if they will be lost without what we are responsible for providing?

The Civil War is the topic of the month, this 150th anniversary month of the shelling of Fort Sumter in Charleston Harbor, which initiated that armed conflict. Leonard Pitts, whom I consider a good man, and whom I respect greatly, has written that the real motive of the influential Southerners who were the Secession decision-makers was the perpetuation of human slavery. He cited documents and private correspondence to that effect. It may be true that the motives of the decision-makers were as Leonard Pitts proposes. In human history the pattern has occurred often, that people who did not create an evil, but profited from it nevertheless, perpetuated that evil. But it does not follow that those ordinary persons who volunteered to defend their homelands, or were conscripted according to the laws then in effect in their states, were traitors, or that their memories as veterans-of-war should not be honored.

My wife and I, between us, have eleven ancestors, of whom we know, on the Daughters of the American Revolution Patriot Index. These ancestors, for the most part, had humble and short-lived roles in that conflict, yet they are honored greatly. (We both, also, had ancestors who fought as Loyalists. They participated in good faith, but are not honored.) My wife and I both had ancestors who fought as Confederate soldiers throughout the whole four years of the Civil War, enduring wounds, illness, pain, and deprivation.

To begin, I must state that what I believe cannot be separated from what I do not believe. If I were writing this on a different day, I might say it differently, but the message would be essentially the same. I should define belief as I understand it. Belief is what one sees as probably “so” – as how things are. This view of what one sees as probably so is the accumulated total of what one has experienced, what one has observed, what one has learned from his studies and readings, and how he has learned to think and approach problems. Mere assent to a proposition or set of propositions for various reasons (such as making a profession of faith to join a congregation for social, or business, or political, or prestige reasons) is not belief. Psyching oneself into believing that one believes certain things because of a promise of Heaven or threat of Hell, is not belief. In short, deciding to believe, agreeing to believe, or being forced to believe, do not produce belief but another state entirely. Once a year, I see Thomas J. McGreevy, a fellow retiree from Army criminal investigations and a devout Catholic, whom I admire greatly and heed somewhat. When I bring up the topics of faith and belief, his response is, “Faith is a gift.” Perhaps it is both as simple, and as difficult to understand, as that.

Here is topic that is seldom discussed by adults, and which, in my opinion, begs discussion and clarification. A dictionary might go on for half a page, but I will submit what I believe is a very simple and quite adequate definition. Lying is knowingly representing to another, or to others, as a fact or truth, something the speaker or writer knows to be false. This is not the same thing as expressing an opinion, however mistaken that opinion might be. Now we are ready for step two.

We are taught as children by parents, teachers, pastors, and other influential adults that lying is wrong – even a sin. Distinctions are made between harmful lies and “white” lies (those that are deemed to be harmless or even beneficial in intent). Adults lie for the same reasons children lie (to avoid consequences for something they have done, to get out of corners they have gotten themselves into, to attain something they want, to make someone else feel better). Sometimes business persons lie for business advantage (to increase revenue, to conceal from the customer that they themselves have been in some way remiss, or simply because they think the customer is a fool and won’t know the difference). There are two very good reasons that rational adults avoid lying. The first is that most rational adults know that lying is wrong and that it weakens the fabric of society. The second is that, if they make practice of lying, they will become known as liars, and no one will trust them on matters large or small.

Recently on these pages, I reviewed Tunes of Glory, 1960, directed by Ronald Neame, the fictional screenplay by James Kennaway based loosely on the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders. A few weeks ago, a fellow member of Clan MacLeod, who had read my review of Tunes of Glory, called my attention to another film involving the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders. I obtained To End All Wars from Netflix, watched it, mulled it over, checked a few things, and decided that it was worthy of a review.

Throughout, I was in a "compare and contrast” mode regarding this film and David Lean's 1957 epic, "Bridge on the River Kwai" (inspired by the same Japanese military railroad construction project through Thailand, utilizing Allied prisoners-of-war). My impression, despite Lean's film being both an epic and a classic, was that this film, To End All Wars, was most likely more historically accurate, and that it certainly contained more depth, more realistic ambiguity, and more complexity (appropriately reflecting a very complex social and cultural situation).

It was Bob Dylan who started me pondering what ordinary persons such as I do expect from public figures, and what is reasonable for us to expect. It isn’t that I am overly sympathetic to public figures. Most of them sought that status, and that status pays off fairly well for most of them. We private citizens have a fair degree of legal right to our privacy. Public figures do not. That is part of the bargain. They forfeit privacy in return for the advantages of notoriety. So, it is not the privacy issue I am addressing. That is more or less settled. What I would like to address is ownership. Yes, once we the public fasten upon someone who has become a public figure, once we are delighted or moved by something he or she does, we think we own that person as he or she is (or as we think he or she is) at that moment.

A couple of meetings ago, the speaker at our local Vietnam Veterans of America (VVA) chapter meeting was a state VVA official, who briefed us on VVA affairs at the state and national level. One of the matters mentioned was the possibility being discussed at the national level, of “retooling” the organization for a new mission so that the organization could continue to exist after most of the old Vietnam veterans had died off. I spoke in response to this point. I mentioned, in essence, that I have been an observer of organizations for my entire adult life. I stated that it has been my observation that, at a certain point in their existences, most organizations turn considerable energy and resources toward perpetuating themselves. I opined that the world is full of organizations and that most of them came into existence for a purpose. I suggested that they ought to devote all their energies and resources to fulfilling their (presumably legitimate) purposes, and then go gracefully out of existence when their former purpose was either fulfilled or overtaken by events, there being no shortage of organizations. I gave as an example The Grand Army of the Republic, the organization of Union veterans of the Civil War. They had a purpose, other than merely fraternal. (They gave us Memorial Day, for example.) When most of the Union veterans had died off, though, they declared the 1949 National Encampment at Indianapolis to be the final encampment. They knew when to “turn out the lights” and so should we.

It may seem odd to review a film that is 50 years old; however, the fact that it remains on my mind may be a good enough reason. The first time I saw this film was 39 years ago, and I have been haunted ever since by the image of what may be the most remarkable dramatic/tragic performance in Alec Guinness’ entire remarkable career. I must say, before I really immerse myself in the review, that the first time I saw the film, I was largely in sympathy with Major (Acting Lieutenant Colonel) Jock Sinclair, as played by Alec Guinness. That may have been projection based upon my own military history and experience. The second time I saw the film, about twelve years ago, I was much more sympathetic to the character of Lieutenant Colonel Basil Barrow, as played by John Mills. Two years ago, when I ordered the film on DVD from NetFlix and viewed it again carefully, I saw the entire unwinding of the plot as an inevitability resulting from the personalities, styles, and histories of these two characters, plus the circumstances of the battalion and the time-frame.

My purpose today is a book review of Tularosa, by Michael McGarrity (a novel of McGarrity’s “Kevin Kerney” series, 1996, W.W. Norton & Co, Inc., New York, NY).

In my previous reviews of series-type crime/police novels (particularly James Lee Burke’s Dave Robicheaux series), I have started with background on the author. I have provided insight into particular characteristics of the author that seem to inform all the novels in the series. I have commented on the strengths and weaknesses of the author, the novels in the series, and the central characters. In this particular review, I am writing from the viewpoint of a retired Army criminal investigator – me. “CID,” in the US Army is now a generic term. There is no “Criminal Investigation Division” as such. Army CID agents are now part of the centralized US Army Criminal Investigation Command. Even though “Division” (or “Department”) is not a part of the name, “CID” is officially incorporated into the official acronym for the command – USACIDC. All this is important for the reader’s understanding of what is, or is not, included in the novel.