Full text of "Behold a Pale Horse"

"BEHOLD A PALE HORSE" Milton William Cooper And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat upon him was Death, and Hell followed with him. And power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with the beasts of the earth. The Holy Bible The Book of Revelation Chapter 6 Verse 8 The ideas and conclusions expressed in this work are mine alone. It is possible that one or more conclusions may be wrong. The purpose of this book is to convince you (the reader) that something is terribly wrong. It is my hope that this work will inspire you to begin an earnest search for the truth. Your con- clusions may be different but together maybe we can build a better world. One basic truth can be used as a foundation for a mountain of lies, and if we dig down deep enough in the mountain of lies, and bring out that truth, to set it on top of the mountain of lies; the entire mountain of lies will crumble under the weight of that one truth, and there is nothing more devastating to a structure of lies than the revelation of the truth upon which the structure of lies was built, because the shock waves of the revelation of the truth reverberate, and continue to reverberate throughout the Earth for generations to follow, awakening even those people who had no desire to be awakened to the truth. Delamer Duverus Table Of Contents Introduction ................................................................... 1 Foreword .................................................................... 5 Chapter 1 Silent Weapons for Quiet Wars .....................................35 Chapter 2 Secret Societies and the New World Order .................67 Chapter 3 Oath of Initiation of an Unidentified Secret Order ... 99 Chapter 4 Secret Treaty of Verona .................................................103 Chapter 5 Good-by USA, Hello New World Order .......................109 Chapter 6 H.R. 4079 and FEMA Federal Emergency Management Agency.....................121 Chapter 7 Anti-Drug Abuse Act of 1988 H.R.5210, P.L. 100-690.................................................151 Chapter 8 Are the Sheep Ready to Shear? ..................................159 Chapter 9 Anatomy of an Alliance .............................................163 Chapter 10 Lessons from Lithuania .............................................179 Chapter 11 Coup de Grace ...........................................................183 Chapter 12 The Secret Government ............................................. 195 Chapter 13 Treason in High Places ................................................. 239 Chapter 14 A Proposed Constitutional Model for the Newstates of America.......................................251 Chapter 15 Protocols of the Elders of Zion ................................... 267 Chapter 16 The Story of Jonathan May ........................................ 331 Chapter 17 Documentation: U.S. Army Intelligence Connection with Satanic Church.................................. 361 Appendix A William Cooper's Military Service Record .................. 381 Appendix B UFOs and Area 51 ...................................................... 397 Appendix C Alien Implants .......................................................... 442 Appendix D AIDS ............................................................................. 445 Appendix E New World Order ..................................................... 448 Appendix F U.S. Government Drug Involvement............................. 473 Appendix G Kurzweil vs. Hopkins ................................................ 490 INTRODUCTION Sometime ago I had the opportunity to meet William Cooper and his wife Annie. It was part of my job to verify whether this man did indeed speak the truth or was just another person seeking fame and fortune. What I found was a rugged, bulldog, driven individual who was kind, thoughtful and tenderhearted. He was truly concerned about you and your welfare. Bill knew that people were badly informed by a society which spoon-feeds you deception until there is no distinction between fiction and reality. He sees what many other[s] see happening, and he is not afraid to do something about it. There are many who do not want you to know what Bill has to say. They have tried many times to stop him from saying it. The scars on his face and the loss of his leg are his badges of sincerity on your behalf. No one becomes popular by telling people the truth. History records what happened to the true prophets of the past. However, some have listened to their warnings and were not caught off-guard. Others have put their heads in the sand and refused to listen. Bill has it together, and has put it together for you so you can also be one of the informed of the world. A well informed person can make the right decision. William Cooper has my vote of approval because I cared enough to find out who the man is. Now is your opportunity. 2 � BEHOLD A PALE HORSE There have been many related sequential coincidences all throughout my life, incidents that by themselves would have led nowhere. Statistical- ly, the odds against the same or a related sequence of events happening to one individual are astronomically high. It is this series of incidents that have convinced me that God has had a hand in my life. I do not believe in fate. I do not believe in accidents. I cannot and will not accept the theory that long sequences of unrelated accidents determine world events. It is inconceivable that those with power and wealth would not band together with a common bond, a com- mon interest, and a long-range plan to decide and direct the future of the world. For those with the resources, to do otherwise would be totally irresponsible. I know that I would be the first to organize a conspiracy to control the outcome of the future, if I were such a person and a conspiracy did not yet exist. I would do it in an attempt to ensure the survival of the principles in which I believe, the survival of my family, my survival, and the survival of the human race, if for no other reason. I believe, therefore, that a grand game of chess is being played on a level that we can barely imagine, and we are the pawns. Pawns are valuable only under certain circumstances and are frequently sacrificed to gain an advantage. Anyone who has studied military strategy is familiar with the concept of sacrifice. Those who have seriously studied history have probably discovered the real reason we go to war on a regularly scheduled basis. Before reading this book I advise you to play at least two complete games of chess. You must learn the rules THEY play by. You must realize objectively that some pieces are more valuable than others and that the king is the most valuable of all. You cannot learn reality if you get caught up in the fantasy that "if s not fair." You must come to know that the ultimate outcome of the game is the only thing that counts. You were lied to when you were told that "it does not matter whether you win or lose, if s how you play the game." Winning in the world of the elite is everything. Indeed, it is the only thing. The power elite intend to win. My research has shown, at this point, that the future laid out for us may be just about impossible to change. I do not agree with the means by which the powerful few have chosen for us to reach the end. I do not agree that the end is where we should end at all. But unless we can wake the people from their sleep, nothing short of civil war will stop the planned outcome. I base that statement not on defeatism but on the apathy of the majority of the American people. Twenty-five years ago I would have believed otherwise � but twenty-five years ago I was also sound asleep. We have been taught lies. Reality is not at all what we perceive it to be. William Cooper � 3 We cannot survive any longer by hanging onto the falsehoods of the past. Reality must be discerned at all costs if we are to be a part of the future. Truth must prevail in all instances, no matter who it hurts or helps, if we are to continue to live upon this earth. At this point, what we want may no longer matter. It is what we must do to ensure our survival that counts. The old way is in the certain process of destruction and a New World Order is beating down the door. To cling to the past is guaranteed suicide. To remain apathetic is assured enslavement. To learn the truth and then act upon it is the only means of survival at this moment. To shrug off the information contained in this book and to disregard its warning will result in the complete destruction of the Republic of the United States of America. You will never get a second warning or a second chance. Like it or not, this is it, stark reality. You can no longer turn your head, ignore it, pretend if s not true, say "it can't happen to me," run, or hide. The wolf is at the door. I fear for the little ones, the innocents, who are already paying for our mistakes. There exists a great army of occupationally orphaned children. They are attending government-controlled day-care centers. And latch- key kids who are running wild in the streets. And the lop-sided, emotionally wounded children of single welfare mothers, born only for the sake of more money in the monthly check. Open your eyes and look at them, for they are the future. In them I see the sure and certain destruction of this once-proud nation. In their vacant eyes I see the death of Freedom. They carry with them a great emptiness � and someone will surely pay a great price for their suffering. If we do not act in concert with each other and ensure that the future becomes what we need it to be, then we will surely deserve whatever fate awaits us. I believe with all my heart that God put me in places and in positions throughout my life so that I would be able to deliver this warning to His people. I pray that I have been worthy and that I have done my job. THIS IS MY CREED I believe first in God, the same God in which my ancestors believed. I believe in Jesus Christ and that he is my saviour. Second, I believe in the Constitution of the Republic of the United States of America, without interpretation, as it was written and meant to work. I have given my sacred oath "to protect and defend the Constitution of the United States of America against all enemies foreign and domestic." I intend to fulfill that oath. Third, I believe in the family unit and, in particular, my family unit. I have sworn that I will give my life, if it is required, in defense of God, the 4 � BEHOLD A PALE HORSE Constitution, or my family. Fourth, I believe that any man without principles that he is ready and willing to die for at any given moment is already dead and is of no use or consequence whatsoever. William Cooper August 3,1990 Camp Verde, Arizona FOREWORD William Cooper and daughter Dorothy 6 � BEHOLD A PALE HORSE The one thing that I find most difficult is to write about myself. It is hard to understand why some people thirst for knowledge about me. It was never my intention to be anyone's hero. I am certainly no great example upon which to base one's life. I consider myself a very average normal kind of guy. I have some pretty good points; I have some human failings. I am proud of some of my achievements, and there are things that I wish I had not done. I'm not perfect, and I am not sure that I ever want to be. But it is certain that I do not belong on anyone's pedestal. I am a man with a message. And the message will be accepted by only a few. To those few who will understand, I am your brother. Maybe...we can change the future for the better. William Moore, in his disinformation publication entitled "Focus," said that I am a fundamentalist preacher. Twenty years ago that would have been a compliment, but today it implies sleaziness. That is why he said it. I am not, and have never been any kind of preacher. I am not starting a church. I am not developing a religion. I do not belong to any organizations. I do not have an entourage. There is no cult and I am not a cult leader. No one camps out around my house. People have called radio talk shows claiming to have first-hand knowledge that I am a notorious radical right-wing extremist. Others have said they have proof that I belong to a white racist organization. Someone said that they found my name on a list of communist party members. A man in Los Angeles, always the same voice, calls when I am on radio claiming that I am an alcoholic. The truth is, most of my close friends and acquaintances consider themselves to be liberal democrats. My only political stance is Constitutional. My wife is Chinese. That rules out the racist propaganda. I fought the communists in Vietnam. I will fight them again, if necessary, but only on United States soil. I used to drink a lot of alcohol in my younger days. As I became older the booze dwindled to a trickle. Now I do not drink much at all. Most of my friends have never seen me take a drink. Annie and I are fond of using wine in our cooking. The lies, no doubt, will continue. For the purpose of keeping everything in perspective, let's all under- stand that attempts to assassinate my character will continue and in all probability will become worse. Rather than let that get in the way, I want you to believe everything bad that you ever hear about me. See if that changes anything that I have been trying to tell you. See if it negates any of the proof. I believe that is the easiest way to handle those attacks. You who are sincerely interested in knowing will seek out me or those who are intimate- ly close to me. Those who do are the only ones who will ever really know who and what I am. William Cooper � 7 My ancestors came from England, Scotland, and Ireland. I had relatives who fought on both sides in the Civil War. And some who fought in the Indian Wars. One of my ancestors was a horse thief in Texas. I don't know for sure, but I think he got hung for it. When I was a little boy I heard whispers that there was some Cherokee blood in the family. Every time I asked about it I was told to shut up. I never could figure out why everyone was afraid to talk about the Indian blood. I thought, and still think, that it is something of which to be proud. I have since discovered that the old folks in my family, like the old folks in almost every family, thought there was some stigma attached to being part Indian. In the old days on the American frontier, people lived by hard rules. If you weren't accepted by your neighbors you were more than likely to end up dead. My paternal grandmother's family, named Vance, traveled to Texas in a covered wagon and were some of the first settlers in the area of Odessa. My great grandfather Vance was a real cowboy who eventually became one of the first oil-field workers. My great grandmother Vance told me that one of their first homes was a dugout on the prairie. My great aunt Sister owned a photo of her father, my great grandfather Vance, standing in front of a saloon beside his friend. Both men had six-guns stuck in their belts. When she was about 84 or so she told me that my great grandfather Vance had gone off to do some work for a rancher. It was during a particularly nasty Indian uprising. My great grandmother was a newly married young woman at the time. She rose early one morning and saw smoke rising from the direction of one of her neighbors. Soon a war party of five young braves rode up to her dugout. She told me that she was scared to death but knew if she showed it they would kill her for sure. The Indians were hungry. Great Grandma Vance made them get down off their ponies, dragged them inside and fed them. They didn't harm her. After filling their stomachs they rode off in the direction where she saw smoke rising later that afternoon. She said that she learned later that she was the only one in the area that had not been burned out or killed. She was a verybrave woman. Great Grandma Vance died in a car accident just a short time after telling me that story. I thought it was a very strange way for her to die. She went from covered wagons to Fords and Boeing 707s. Grandma Vance saw just about everything that ever was important in this world happen in her lifetime. My paternal grandfather's family also rode across the country in a covered wagon. They strayed a little north, however, and ended up in the Indian territory now known as Oklahoma. They were on the front line during the Oklahoma land rush and succeeded in staking out 320 acres on 8 � BEHOLD A PALE HORSE Big Bear Creek near what would eventually become Enid. A little town sprang up not too far away called Garber. They raised a lot of kids. I remember my great grandmother cooking the biggest breakfast I had ever seen. We slept in real feather beds that swallowed us up. We ran to the outhouse in the middle of the night because we were embarrassed to usethe chamber pot that Great Grandma kept handy under every bed. In themorning everyone would crowd around the wood stove in the kitchen orthe coal stove in the parlor trying to get warm. My dad had given me a .22 rifle for Christmas and Great Grandma's farm was the first place that I ever went hunting. I got up before the sun one morning, tiptoed downstairs, and headed out for the creek. About two hours later I saw my chance and shot a quail sitting up in a tree. I struttedproudly to the farmhouse holding that quail up for all to see. Luckily the farmhand saw me first. He burst out laughing and asked me what I thought I was doing with that sparrow. I ran off and buried that bird and never said a word to anyone. I learned later that quails don't sit in trees. For those who may think this to be a terrible thing, I must tell you that every boy in those days was given a rifle and taught to hunt. During hunting season many a family managed to put aside some extra money because the boys brought home meat from the hunt. That money saved was sorely needed. It was considered a duty for a citizen to own a gun inorder to carry out the intent of the 2nd amendment to the Constitution. Aslong as the citizens owned guns the government could never become oppressive. My mother's family came from Scotland and settled in North Carolina. They were hardworking and thrifty folk. Most of them were poor. Inever knew much more about my mother's family. I don't even remember anyone talking much about them. I know that my grandmother, Nellie Woodside, was forced to give up some of her children when her husband died. There was not enough money to feed all of the kids. My mother was one of those chosen to live in a children's home until things got better. No one ever talked about my mother's father. When I asked about my grand- father I was told, "Red was no good, and you just mind your own busi- ness." I got the feeling that nobody liked him. He died before I entered this world. I was born May 6, 1943. I was reared in a military family. My father isUSAF Lt. Col. (Ret.) Milton V. Cooper. He prefers to be called Jack, the nickname given to him by the family when he was a boy. Dad began hisAir Force career as a young cadet flying biplanes and retired as a command pilot with thousands of hours to his credit. I have a picture of him standing in front of an old biplane in his leather jacket and his cap with the earflaps William Cooper � 9 My mother and father 10 � BEHOLD A PALE HORSE just like Snoopy wears. I can remember the pilots gathered around the kitchen table talking about the planes and telling stories. Sometimes they discussed strange things called foo fighters or UFOs. When we were lucky they got out the projector and showed Kodachrome slides. That was a special treat. By the time I was eight years old, I think I had already seen and been inside every plane the Air Force (which used to be the Army Air Force) had ever owned. I had flown in several. I had seen many of them crash and had friends who had lost their fathers. I remember one night in the Azores at Lages Field. We were at the base theater watching a movie when the projector ground to a stop, the lights came on and a plea was made for blood donors. We knew there had been a disaster. Everyone went outside and looked down the hill at the flightline. It was literally consumed in flames. We could see men on fire running through the night. A B-29 had crashed. I forget if it had been taking off or landing; but I will never forget the scene that was spread before me on that night. No one went back to the movie even though we had only seen half. I was nine years old but felt much older. I had seen many crashes, and I would see many more in the years to come. But I never saw anything that could ever compare to the wreckage, the fire, the devastation, or the loss of life caused by the crash of that B-29. We left the Azores a year later. As we climbed into the sky I looked out the plane window. I could still see pieces of the wreckage where it had been pushed away from the runways. It was that incident that gave me an appreciation of the dangers that my dad faced on a daily basis. I knew then how lucky we were to see him walk in the door. Aviation wasn't safe in those days, especially for military pilots. We all knew families that had lost someone in a crash. I didn't always love my father. He was a strict disciplinarian. My dad did not believe in "spare the rod" and his belt was put to use frequently in our family. I was a very sensitive but willful child. Rules didn't mean much to me until I got caught breaking them. Many times I was the focus of his anger. Like most kids, I didn't understand. I thought he was a tyrant. Now I appreciate his upbringing. I know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that without his strict discipline we most probably would have turned out bad. Now I love my Dad. He is my friend. He is an independent, gre- garious, feisty, tough, confident, adventurous, sometimes overbearing, handsome, big bear of a man. My mother told me that she fell in love with him because he looks like John Wayne, and he does. I have watched him progress from one who disdained any public show of affection to a man William Cooper � 11 who is just as likely to hug you as shake your hand. On the other side, he has at times made me so angry that I could have punched him in the mouth, but I never have. If s damn hard for anyone not to like him. He is always up to some mischief, and I can guarantee you that no one is ever bored around my father. My mother is a real Southern lady. They used to call her kind a Southern belle. She is one of the last of a dying breed. Dovie Nell (Wood- side) Cooper is the type of woman that men like to dream about when they're lonely. She is the kindest, gentlest, woman that I have ever known. I do not make that statement just because she is my mother. It's true. She was beautiful as a young woman and she is beautiful now. My mother is one of those people who, once she likes you, can't be driven away. She is loyal to a fault. I have seen her during the good and during the bad times. She never flinched, no matter what. It always surprised me that she could be so tough and yet so kind, gentle, and loving all at the same time. Woe to anyone who ever harms my dad or one of her children in her presence. She is the best cook who ever stepped foot in any kitchen that was ever built. I love my mother probably more than anyone else in this world. I have a brother Ronnie and a sister Connie. They are fraternal twins two years younger than me. We were closer than most siblings when we were children because we spent so much of our life in foreign countries, where oftentimes we found ourselves unable to communicate except with each other. We had school friends, but school was often many miles from where we lived. We had few toys. Most of them were things that mother gave us such as spools, cigar boxes, string, or anything else that we could find to keep us occupied. Every Christmas was a delight because we always got some REAL toys. Ronnie and I had a propensity to see how things worked, however, so they never lasted long. Everything we wore, including shoes, was ordered from the Sears catalog. It was the wish book, and we never tired of looking through it. We alternately loved each other, hated each other, fought each other, and defended each other, as I guess all kids do. Ronnie, his wife Suzie, and their daughter Jennifer live in Garber, Oklahoma, where Ron sells John Deere farm equipment. Ron & Suzie built their house with their own hands. As far as I know they intend to live in that house until they die. Ronnie served as an officer in the Army. In Vietnam he earned the Silver Star. We haven't seen each other since 1976 after he came to visit me in the hospital after I lost my leg. Nevertheless I love him and I miss him a lot. Neither one of us can afford to travel much unless it's business, but one of these days soon I'm going to surprise him unless visit. Connie has shown me pictures and Ron looks just like my 12 � BEHOLD A PALE HORSE great grandfather. Almost every picture I've seen shows Ron in chaps, a Stetson, boots, and either near or on a horse. I guess that is about how it should be, as Ronnie always wanted to be a cowboy when he was a child. Connie has really turned out to be a fine woman. When she was little I sometimes liked her and sometimes didn't. Little boys don't usually have much use for little girls. Since we only had each other to play with, however, Ronnie and I loved her a lot; but little boys just can't ever admit anything like that. I remember Connie always followed me everywhere I went. I couldn't get rid of her no matter how hard I tried. Her devotion and loyalty made me love her all the more. Of course I pretended that she was a pain in the ass. As we grew older and began to realize that there was a really big difference between boys and girls Connie began to take on an air of mystery. From that time until I was about 18 she baffled me com- pletely. I remember when she was around 13 or so she would throw temper tantrums when she got angry. She would stomp her feet, scream, run to her room and then slam the door. Ronnie and I thought it was a great show but couldn't for love or money understand why she did it. When we asked mom she would just shake her head and say, "Hormones." William Cooper, brother Ronnie, sister Connie William Cooper � 13 Connie grew up to be a beautiful woman and eventually married her high school sweetheart, Gus Deaton. They had two beautiful children, Janice and Chrissie. Janice is very much like Connie, loving and loyal. Chrissie is different. She's a redhead who loves to party. I guess Chrissie represents a freedom of spirit more than anything else. Connie's marriage deteriorated and no one could figure out what was happening until Gus was diagnosed as having brain tumors. It was tragic. Everyone really loved Gus. As his disease progressed and he began to do crazy things, people just drifted away. I have always nurtured a very special love for Chrissie. She never deserted her father. When no one else could stand to be around him, Chrissie chose to go and live with him "so he won't be lonely," she said. Even now I get all choked up when I think of that little red-headed girl going to live with her sick father "so he won't be lonely." His behavior was such that no one else could stand to be around him. At least that is what I'm told. It wasn't Gus's fault that he became ill and I've always felt it just wasn't fair to Connie, the children, or Gus. I've since learned that life is seldom fair. Connie eventually remarried and moved to Austin, Texas, where she has established herself as a valuable employee of a large bank. Her husband is an executive for McGraw Hill. His name, coincidentally, is Ron. We all really like Ron McClure, especially Dad, who has formed a close friendship with him. My sister has really blossomed into a wonderful woman. She has become one of my dearest and closest friends. She has grown to be so much a part of me that even now I sometimes get a feeling to look behind me to see if that little girl is still there. I feel a great loss when I see that if s only Sugarbear, my faithful dog; but then, I love him too, so can't complain. I graduated in 1961 from Yamato High School in Japan. That fall I enlisted in the Air Force. I really wanted to go into the Navy but I had always had a tendency toward car sickness and seasickness. I attended basic at Lackland Air Force Base, Texas, and Technical School for Aircraft & Missile Pneudraulics at Amarillo Air Force Base. Upon completion I was ordered to the 495th Bomb Wing of the Strategic Air Command at Sheppard Air Force Base just outside Wichita Falls. The name was later changed to the 4245th Bomb Wing � don't ask me why. In just a short time I had gone from a skinny kid who didn't know much about anything, even though I thought I did, to an airman who had a Secret(!) security clearance and worked on B-52 bombers, KC-135 refuel ing aircraft, and Minuteman missiles. I saw REAL atomic bombs. I worked around them on a daily basis. Because of that I had to wear a dosimeter just in case I was exposed to 14 � BEHOLD A PALE HORSE radiation. In those days we were the elite of the Air Force and we knew it. I received a Letter of Commendation for my work. In due time I was awarded the National Defense Medal and the Air Force Good Conduct Medal. (Actually, I think everyone was awarded the National Defense Medal so that no one would be embarrassed standing in formation with nothing on their chest.) It was during this time that I met a couple of sergeants who kind of adopted me. We went out to the clubs together and usually ended up chasing women and drinking a lot of beer. They told me several stories about being attached to a special unit that recovered crashed flying saucers. Sgt. Meese told me that he had been on one operation that transported a saucer so large that a special team went before them, lowering all telephone poles and fence posts. Another team followed and replaced them. They moved it only at night. It was kept parked and covered somewhere off the road during the day. Since we were always half-tanked when these stories came out, I never believed them � sergeants were known to tell some tall tales to younger guys like me. On November 22, 1963, I was on duty as CQ (Charge of Quarters) for the Field Maintenance Squadron. Most of the men were out on the flight- line working, the barracks orderlies had been assigned their tasks, the first sergeant was gone somewhere, and I was alone. I turned on the orderly room TV to watch the live broadcast of the President's motorcade in Dallas. I was not prepared for what I saw. I stared in disbelief as the events unfurled in front of my eyes. I knew that something had happened, but what? I had seen and heard the assassination, but my mind was not accepting it. I kept staving at the set to discover what it was that had happened when slowly the realization crept over me. A numbness spread up my arms and legs. I saw what had happened! The hair stood up on the back of my neck and a chill went down my spine. President Kennedy had been shot right in front of my eyes! At that point huge tears began to stream down my face. Waves of emotion rushed through my body. I felt that I had to do something, so I picked up the direct line to the command center. I choked back the tears. When the command duty officer answered, I told him that the President had just been shot in Dallas. There was a pause, and he asked me, "How do you know he has been shot?" I told him that 1 had watched it on television and then hung up the phone. I was numb all over. A few minutes later the command duty officer called back and ordered a red alert at DEFCON TWO (Defense Condition Two meant war was imminent). The roar of jet engines could already be heard as the alert crews taxied their planes toward the runway. I was scared shitless as I ran from William Cooper � 15 barracks to barracks routing out the night shift and those who had the day off. We had been told that we had about 15 minutes to launch all of our planes before the first atomic bomb would hit us in the event that theRussians launched an attack. I didn't even lock up the orderly room. I just jumped in the first car I saw, rode to the SAC compound/ and reported to my red alert duty station. For the next three days I slept under the belly of a B-52 bomber staring atthe Armageddon that hid just inside the closed bomb-bay doors. We thought the shit had finally hit the fan. It was a great relief when the alertwas ended. I left the Air Force with an honorable discharge in 1965. In December of the same year I joined the Navy. I had always loved the ocean. I had wanted to be a sailor since I was a little boy. Seasick or not I made up my mind to follow my dream. I was sent to the Naval Training Center in San Diego for boot camp. Because of my prior Air Force experience I was made the Recruit Chief Company Commander. I was allowed to keep my same rank and pay grade. We had a good bunch of guys in my company and we had a great company commander. Chief Campbell, chief electricians mate. He turned the company over to me. Thechief was a good man. He was only interested in teaching us what weneeded to know and in keeping us out of trouble. Unlike most boot camp instructors, Chief Campbell had no axe to grind and wasn't trying to prove anything to himself or anyone else. He was truly our friend. During boot camp I volunteered for submarines (my sense of adven- ture was very strong). I was accepted, and upon completion of basic training, was ordered to the USS Tiru (SS-416) at the submarine base at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. Spitfire and damnation, no one could possibly bethat lucky! I couldn't believe my eyes when I read my orders. Here I wasfulfilling my dream of being in the Navy. I got exactly what I asked for the first time that I asked for it, which was extremely rare in any branch of military service. And to top it all off, I was being sent to Hawaii, the land of tropical paradise. I was in seventh heaven. I landed in Hawaii with no time to play and took a cab directly to the sub base. My submarine was nowhere to be found. I kept asking peopleuntil I found someone who told me that my boat (subs are called boats in the Navy) was not at the sub base but in dry dock in the Pearl Harbor Naval Shipyard. I hailed another cab. The cab driver dropped me off at the head of a pier that looked like it had never been cleaned up after the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. It wascovered with what appeared to be hoses, huge electrical cables, rusting metal of every conceivable size and shape that you can imagine. The air was rank with the smell of diesel, welding fumes, paint, and steel. If there 16 � BEHOLD A PALE HORSE is a hell on earth, I thought, this has to be it. I walked up the pier, over to the edge, and looked down into the dry dock. There, stripped of all dignity, lying naked and cut cleanly in half, was my boat, the USS Tiru. Men were scrambling all over it. They looked like ants swarming over a dead grasshopper. Brilliant flashes of light brighter than the sun drove sparks high into the air and then down in a beautiful flow to the bottom of the dock. I couldn't believe my eyes. Someone actually expected me to go out to sea, then underwater, in what appeared to me to be a motley collection of cut-up rusting metal scavenged from some satanic junkyard, stuck together by demons with welding torches. My luck had just run out. I reported to the barracks barge moored in the water on the other side of the pier and was given a hammock for when I had the duty; then I was sent to the sub base barracks where I was assigned a rack and a locker. I wanted to go into Honolulu but quickly discovered non-quals did not rate liberty. It was getting worse. The next few months were spent sanding, painting, lifting, and learn- ing the boat. The men of the crew, except for the chief cook, were great. The chief cook was drunk every minute of the day and night. He didn't like me, so I didn't get much to eat. His dislike stemmed from my first morning when I walked into the galley and watched as the other crew members ordered their breakfast. When there was an opening I stepped up and asked for eggs over easy. That's when the chief hit the overhead and vowed that I would never eat a meal in his mess decks. He wasn't kidding, either. The only time after that morning that I got anything to eat out of that galley was when the chief cook was ashore. To this day I still don't know what I did wrong. I could have gone to the captain, but if I had done that I might as well have put in for a transfer at the same time. It wasn't long, though, before I was able to locate where he hid his booze. I made his life miserable from that moment on. I won't tell you what I laced his vodka with, but it wasn't anything you'd ever want to drink, believe me. I kept that chief so sick that he was transferred off the boat for medical reasons. I didn't want to hurt him, but it was either get rid of him or starve to death. I made up my mind that chief or no chief I wasn't going to go to sea on a boat that wouldn't feed me. I didn't relish going to sea with a drunk chief in charge of closing the main induction valve when the boat made a dive. When a submarine goes underwater certain valves MUST be closed or the boat will flood with water and everyone will drown. The main induction is the MOST IMPORTANT of those valves. It was the cook's duty to close it, because the valve was in the galley on board the USS Tiru. I made two especially close friends while on the Tiru. A black seaman William Cooper � 17 named Lincoln Loving and an American Indian seaman we called Gero- nimo. The three of us were inseparable. Lincoln was best man at my first marriage. Of the three Geronimo was the most experienced seaman, so he taught Lincoln and me. He knew everything there was to know about the boat, rope, paint, and a whole lot of other things that a man had to know to survive in the Navy. I knew the most about getting along in the military, so I taught Geronimo and Lincoln. Lincoln knew every really good spot on the Island where we could have a good time, so he led the liberty party. Three things really stand out in my mind about the time that I spent on the Tiru. The first was an incident that occurred during a test dive while we were creeping along at about 3 or 4 knots at a depth of 600 feet off the Island of Oahu. Lincoln and I had just been relieved from watch and were in the after battery talking when we were knocked off our feet. We heard a loud CLANG forward and felt the boat lunge to port. Then we heard a sound that made our blood run cold. I could literally feel the blood drain from my face as I listened to whatever it was that we hit scrape along the starboard side of the hull. Lincoln and I froze. We held our breath as metal screeched upon metal. I thought it would never end. No one moved, anywhere. Finally, after what seemed a lifetime, the boat lurched and the noise disappeared aft. If it had pierced the hull none of us would be alive today. We never found out what it was. When we returned to Pearl, divers went down to have a look. When they surfaced they reported that the starboard bowplane was damaged and the hull was gouged all along the starboard side from bow to stern. We went in for repairs. In a couple of days we were good as new, but I certainly had an entirely different perspective on life. The second thing that stands out happened to another boat that had been out participating in torpedo attack exercises with another submarine. I remember seeing the boat entering the harbor with a large tarp over the conning tower. I could see something holding the tarp up on each side of the tower but I couldn't see what it was. Later, Geronimo, Lincoln and I walked over where the boat was berthed and looked under the tarp. The other boat in the exercise had scored a direct hit! What we saw was a torpedo sticking completely through the sail. We started laughing. Then we looked at each other and decided that it wasn't so funny after all. This submarine business was not quite as attractive as I'd thought. Number three happened during a transit between the Portland-Seattle area and Pearl Harbor. I was the port lookout during the afternoon watch (1200 to 1600 hours). Geronimo was the starboard lookout. Ensign Ball was the OOD (Officer of the Deck). We were doing 10 knots on the surface and the three of us were on the bridge in the conning tower. It was a bright 18 � BEHOLD A PALE HORSE day, but the sun was obscured by a low layer of clouds. It was cool. We had a bit of fun when someone below requested permission to put a man on deck forward to get something that was needed from the waterproof deck locker. The locker was under the deck plate all the way up on the bow near the forward torpedo-room escape trunk. Geronimo and I laughed when Ensign Ball gave his approval. He really shouldn't have, because we were running a pressure wave over the bow. When we saw who it was they had sent on deck we roared with laughter. We looked down over the side of the sail at the deck-level door just as it popped open and Seaman Lincoln Loving stuck his head out. He didn't look happy. Lincoln reached down and put the runner in the safety track in the deck, fastened the safety belt around his waist and, grabbing the handrail, stepped out on deck. He looked up at us with that "don't you laugh at me" look that he did so well. It took him a few minutes to get up the nerve to let go of the handrail and begin to make his way forward against the wind and the pitching deck. Gingerly, he crept forward until he was just at the point where the pressure wave was rolling off the deck when the bow heaved free of the water on its cyclical upswing. I could see that Lincoln was trying to time a run forward when the bow was out of the water. He made a couple of false starts, then ran slipping on the wet deck, disappearing into the access hole for the forward torpedo-room escape hatch. The bow plunged underwater and I found myself sucking air as I imagined the cold saltwater swirling around me. It wasn't me, though, it was Lincoln. I gripped the top of the sail as I waited for the bow to swing up, hoping that Lincoln wouldn't panic. What we saw next could have been a clip from one of those old Keystone Cops movies. Lincoln was flailing water so hard that it looked like he had 40 arms and 40 legs. It was only then that I realized that Lincoln had joined the Navy but he didn't know how to swim. When he finally gathered a foothold, the half-drowned seaman exploded up out of that hole like a Polaris missile and ran back to the conning tower just as fast as his wet leather soles would carry him. Ensign Ball, Geronimo, and I laughed for a good ten minutes. In fact, every time we saw Lincoln for the next two days we would burst out laughing. Lincoln didn't think it was funny and didn't miss a chance to slug us every time we laughed. Lincoln went below. Geronimo and I began the unending task of sweeping the horizon from bow to stern, then the sky from horizon to zenith, and then back to the horizon from bow to stern. Again and again, and then a pause to rest our eyes and chat for a few minutes. I asked Ensign Ball to call for some hot coffee. As he bent over the 1MC, I turned, William Cooper � 19 raising my binoculars to my eyes just in time to see a huge disk rise from beneath the ocean, water streaming from the air around it, tumble lazily on its axis, and disappear into the clouds. My heart beat wildly. I tried to talk but couldn't; then I changed my mind and decided I didn't want to say that, anyway. I had seen a flying saucer the size of an aircraft carrier come right out of the ocean and fly into the clouds. I looked around quickly to see if anyone else had seen it. Ensign Ball was still bending over the IMC. He was ordering coffee. Geronimo was looking down the starboard side aft. I was torn between my duty to report what I had seen and the knowledge that if I did no one would believe me. As I looked out over the ocean I saw only sky, clouds, and water. It was as if nothing had happened. I almost thought I had dreamed it. Ensign Ball straightened, turned toward Geronimo and said the coffee was on the way up. I looked back toward the spot, about 15 degrees relative off the port bow, and about 2-1/2 nautical miles distant. Nothing, not even a hint of what had happened. "Ensign Ball," I said, "I thought I saw something about 15 degrees relative off the bow, but I lost it. Can you help me look over that area?" Ensign Ball turned, raising his glasses to eye level. I didn't know it at the time, but Geronimo had heard me and turned to look. He was happy that something had broken the monotony. I was just lifting the binoculars off my chest when I saw it. The giant saucer shape plunged out of the clouds, tumbled, and, pushing the water before it, opened up a hole in the ocean and disappeared from view. It was incredible. This time I had seen it with my naked eyes, and its size in comparison with the total view was nothing short of astounding. Ensign Hall stood in shock, his binoculars in his hands, his mouth open. Geronimo yelled, "Holy shit! What the � hey! did you guys see that?" Ensign Ball turned, and looking right at me with the most incredulous look on his face, said in a low voice, "This had to happen on my watch!" He turned, quickly pressing the override on the IMC and yelled, "Captain to the bridge, Captain to the bridge." As an afterthought he pressed the switch again and yelled, "Somebody get a camera up here." The Captain surged up the ladder with the quartermaster on his heels. Chief Quartermaster Quintero had the ship's 35-mm camera slung around his neck. The Captain stood patiently while Ensign Ball tried to describe what he had seen. He glanced at us and we both nodded in affirmation. That was enough for the Captain. He called sonar, who during the excitement had reported contact underwater at the same bearing. The Captain announced into the 1MC, "This is the Captain. I have the conn." The reply 20 � BEHOLD A PALE HORSE came back instantly from the helm, "Aye, Aye sir." I knew that the helms- man was passing the word in the control room that the Captain had personally taken control of the boat. I also knew that rumors were probab- ly flying through the vessel. The Captain called down and ordered someone to closely monitor the radar. His command was instantly acknowledged. As the five of us stood gazing out over the sea the same ship or one exactly like it rose slowly, turned in the air, tilted at an angle and then vanished. I saw the Chief snapping pictures out of the corner of my eye. This time I had three images from which to draw conclusions. It was a metal machine, of that there was no doubt whatsoever. It was intelligent- ly controlled, of that I was equally sure. It was a dull color, kind of like pewter. There were no lights. There was no glow. I thought I had seen a row of what looked like portholes, but could not be certain. Radar reported contact at the same bearing and gave us a range of 3 nautical miles. The range was right on, as the craft had moved toward the general direction that we were headed. We watched repeatedly as the strange craft reentered the water and then subsequently rose into the clouds over and over again until finally we knew that it was gone for good. The episode lasted about 10 minutes. Before leaving the bridge the Captain took the camera from the Chief and instructed each of us not to talk to anyone about what we had seen. He told us the incident was classified and we were not to discuss it, not even amongst ourselves. We acknowledged his order. The Captain and the Chief left the bridge. Ensign Ball stepped to the 1MC and, pressing the override switch, announced, "This is Ensign Ball. The Captain has left the bridge. I have the conn." The reply, "Aye aye sir," quickly followed. Those of us who had witnessed the UFO were not allowed to go ashore after we had berthed in Pearl. Even those of us who didn't have the duty were told we had to stay aboard. After about two hours a commander from the Office of Naval Intelligence boarded. He went directly to the Captain's stateroom. It wasn't long before we were called to wait in the passageway outside the Captain's door. Ensign Ball was called first. After about 10 minutes he came out and went into the wardroom. He looked shaken. I was next. When I entered the stateroom, the Commander was holding my service record in his hands. He wanted to know why I had gone from the Air Force into the Navy. I told him the whole story and he laughed when I said that after putting off the Navy for fear of chronic seasickness, I hadn't been seasick yet. Suddenly a mask dropped over his face, and looking me directly in the eyes he asked, "What did you see out there?" WilliamCooper � 21 "I believe it was a flying saucer, sir," I answered. The man began to visibly shake and he screamed obscenities at me. He threatened to put me in the brig for the rest of my life. I thought he wasn't going to stop yelling, but as suddenly as he began, he stopped. I was confused. I had answered his question truthfully; yet I was threatened with prison. I was not afraid, but I was not very confident, either. I figured I had better take another tack. Eighteen years with my father and four years in the Air Force had taught me something. Number one was that officers just do not lose control like that, ever. Number two was that if my answer had elicited that explosion, then the next thing out of my mouth had better be something entirely different. Number three was, that his response had been an act of kindness to get me to arrive at exactly that conclusion. "Let's start all over again," he said. "What did you see out there?" "Nothing, sir," I answered. "I didn't see a damn thing, and I'd like to get out of here just as soon as possible." A smile spread over his face and the Captain looked relieved. "Are you sure, Cooper?" he asked. "Yes sir," I replied, "I'm sure." "You're a good sailor, Cooper," he said. 'The Navy needs men like You'll go far with the Navy." He then asked me to read several pieces of paper that all said the same thing only with different words. I read that if I ever talked about what it was that I didn't see, I could be fined up to $10,000 and imprisoned for up to 10 years or both. In addition I could lose all pay and allowances due or ever to become due. He asked me to sign a piece of paper stating that I understood the laws and regulations that I had just read governing the safeguard of classified information relating to the national security. By signing, I agreed never to communicate in any manner any information regarding the incident with anyone. I was dismissed, and boy, was I glad to get out of there. Not long after that incident I devolunteered from submarines. I was transferred to the USS Tombigbee (AOG-11). The Tombigbee was a gasoline tanker. It was more dangerous than the sub. The Captain was crazy and the crew was a combination of idiots and misfits. I once had to draw my pistol while I was petty officer of the watch to prevent an officer from being attacked by a seaman. The Tombigbee collided in the dead of night with a destroyer in the Molokai channel and several men died when the destroyer was almost cut in half. Every day aboard that ship was exactly like a scene right out of Mr. Roberts. I struck for quartermaster (navigation specialist) and managed to advance to the rank of second class petty officer despite the obvious 22 � BEHOLD A PALE HORSE obstacles. I made two WESTPAC tours aboard the Tombigbee. They included a total of 12 months off the coast of Vietnam. We came under machine-gun fire while anchored off Chu Lai. We had to do an emergency breakaway and leave the harbor. All we needed was one tracer round in one of the tanks, and KA-BOOM, it would have been all over. The Viet Cong gunner probably got busted because the stupid jerk missed the whole damn ship. HOW CAN YOU MISS A WHOLE SHIP? The only other time I felt threatened was when we went up to a small outpost at the DM2 called Cua Viet. It was a vision right out of hell. Cua Viet sat on the southern bank at the river mouth of the Thack Han river. We rode at anchor and pumped fuel ashore through a bottom lay line. Every night we could see the tracers from fire fights raging up and down the river and along the DMZ. It was a real hot spot. Every once in awhile Viet Cong or NVA rockets would slam into the camp. We would perform an emergency breakaway and put to sea until the all clear was sounded. Everything was cool until our whacko Captain decided we were going into the river mouth. Did you ever try to put a pencil through the eye of a needle? Thaf s about comparable to what we did. I'll never know how we got that big ship through the narrow mouth of that river with no navigational references whatsoever. We dropped anchor midchannel and the Captain backed the ship right up to the beach and dropped the stern anchor into the sand. There we sat, a great big target full of gasoline. We were helpless in the mouth of a narrow river, with three anchors out, right in the middle of one of the hottest combat zones in Vietnam. That night several men in the crew wrote letters to the Chief of Naval Operations requesting an immediate transfer. No one slept. I don't know why the enemy didn't send in the rockets, but they didn't. I knew then that God must keep a special watch over fools. The next day we set to sea and started for Pearl. The Captain was relieved for incompetence later that year. Then I was transferred to school. I didn't know what school I had drawn. It turned out to be the Naval Security and Intelligence School for Internal Security Specialist (NEC 9545). The general training prepared me to set up security perimeters, secure installations and buildings, and safeguard classified information. My training included special weapons, booby-trap identification and disarm- ing, the detection of bugs, phone taps, transmitters and many other sub- jects. I was specifically trained to prepare and conduct Pacific-area intelligence briefings. From the day I reported to school in 1968 until I left the Navy I worked off and on for Naval Security and Intelligence, Upon graduating I was transferred to Vietnam. I had volunteered William Cooper � 23 over a year before because I figured that my chances were better in the war than they were on that screwed-up gasoline tanker. This was the first good news I'd had since leaving boot camp. I really wanted to fight for my country. I wasn't to find out what a real fool I was until a few years later. I landed at Da Nang and was bused to Camp Carter, the headquarters for Naval Security and Intelligence in I Corps. I was interviewed by Captain Carter, the commanding officer. The names turned out to be a coincidence. Captain Carter asked me if I thought I would make a good patrol boat captain, and I told him that I would. What else could I tell him? I thought he was joking when he told me I would have command of a boat and crew. He wasn't, and I did. Lt. Duey at the Harbor Patrol, a division of Naval Intelligence, allowed me to hand-pick a crew. He gave me first choice of four 45-foot picket boats that had just been unloaded from the deck of a freighter. I and my new crew spent three days going over every inch of that boat. We adjusted and fine-tuned everything. We sanded and painted. One of the seamen even hung curtains in the after cabin. We checked and double-checked the engines. My gunners mate, GMG3 Robert G. Barron, checked out weapons and we began to arm our vessel. I've got to tell you the truth � just looking at all those guns scared the shit out of me. I vowed right then and there that I would be the best damn captain that ever commanded a combat vessel in wartime. I learned to exist an only 2 or 3 hours of sleep out of 24 and never ate until I knew that my crew had been fed. We spent a lot of spooky nights patrolling the Da Nang harbor and river. One night a rocket hit the ammo dump at the river's edge near the Da Nang bridge, and it really looked as if the world was coming to an end. Another time we engaged the enemy in the cove at Point Isabella near the marine fuel farm and probably saved their butts. That engagement was reported in The Stars and Stripes, the armed forces newspaper in Vietnam. The worst moments came, however, not from Charley but from mother nature. A full-blown typhoon roared across the Gulf of Tonkin. To save the boats we put to sea. The angels must have been laughing. What a sight we must have made! I maneuvered our boat in between two giant cargo ships riding at anchor off Red Beach and learned quickly what fear was really all about. The wind was blowing so hard that none of us could go on deck. That meant that the two of us in the pilot house were stuck on watch and the men trapped in the after cabin had to man the hand pumps. The windows in the pilot house blew out and the rain felt like knives hitting our skin. Water poured in, and I prayed that the men on the pumps would not become exhausted. I could just barely make out the two tankers. I could tell they were in more trouble than we. When we were on the crest 24 � BEHOLD A PALE HORSE of the mountainous waves we looked down onto the top of the ships. When we were in the trough we seemed to be in danger of their crashing down upon us. One of the freighters snapped a cable and steamed slowly out of the harbor. The next morning the storm calmed and we moved into the river. Debris was floating down and we had to play dodge-the-tree-trunks until we spotted a sheltered pier in front of the Press Club. We carefully pulled the boat alongside, tied fast to the pier, then collapsed from exhaustion. After awhile we drew straws to see who would remain on watch with me. The rest went into the Press Club. After a couple of hours the crew returned and we went in. It was like nothing was going on outside. Reporters sat around drinking or eating. All around flowed conversation and laughter. We ordered a huge meal, signed Lt. Duey's name to the check, then went out to the boat. I don't know whose name the other guys signed, but none of us had any money. I don't even know if Lt. Duey ever got the bill. I do know that it was one of the best damn meals that we ever had in that country. The next two days were spent in repairing the boat, cleaning the weapons, and checking everything. Then we went to the club, got stone drunk, and slept for damn near a whole other day. Bob Barron volunteered for Cua Viet. I begged him to stay with us. Maybe we could all go up later together. He couldn't wait; he had to have action. We promised each other that if one of us bought the farm the other would drink a bottle of scotch in memory, then break the bottle on the rocks. Don't ask me what that was all about. Men who think they might die at any given moment do stupid things and I was no different than most. About three weeks later we learned that Bob's boat had gone on TWO LIMA patrol on the Thack Han River one night and had never returned. No radio transmissions were ever heard. And for awhile no bodies were found. Then one by one they popped to the surface along the bank. It was a long time before we ever found the boat. When we did it was twisted up like a pretzel. I say "we," because after I drank the bottle of scotch and broke it on the rocks, I forced the issue and was transferred to the Dong Ha River Support Group at Cua Viet. It was now a personal war. They had killed a part of me. Bob had been my friend. His name is on the Vietnam Memorial. My boat engaged the enemy more times than any other boat that ever patrolled that river. We kept the enemy off the river and I never lost another man. I was awarded the Naval Achievement Medal with Combat V, the Naval Commendation Medal with Combat V, and the Combat Action Ribbon. Our whole organization was awarded the Presidential Unit Citation, the Naval William Cooper � 25 Unit Citation, and each of us accumulated various other minor awards, ribbons, and medals. On a Patrol Boat One thing I didn't like about Vietnam was that it was very difficult to maintain unit cohesion and morale when you had proven and trusted men leaving all the time at staggered intervals and green, unproven men arriv- ing to take their place. I noticed that I felt like I was deserting my crew when I was rotated home. I tried to extend my tour of duty, but they had already decided to phase out our forces and turn the war over to the Vietnamese. If I had extended a month earlier, I was told, I could have stayed. My attitude at that point was a smoldering "SCREW IT!" The whole time that I was in Vietnam and especially on the DMZI had noticed that there was a lot of UFO activity. We had individual 24-hour crypto code sheets that we used to encode messages, but because of the danger that one of them could be captured at any time, we used special code words for sensitive information. UFOs, I was told, were definitely sensitive information. I learned exactly how sensitive when all the people of an entire village disappeared after UFOs were seen hovering above their huts. I learned that both sides had fired upon the UFOs, and they had blasted back with a mysterious blue light. Rumors floated around that UFOs had kidnapped and mutilated two army soldiers, then dropped them in the bush. No one knew how much of this was true, but the fact that the rumors persisted made me tend to think there was at least some truth 26 � BEHOLD A PALE HORSE in them. I found out later that most of those rumors were true. I eventually found myself back in Hawaii. This time it was shore duty at the headquarters of the Commander in Chief of the Pacific Fleet at Makalapa, a hill above Pearl Harbor. I had carried a Secret security clearance in the Air Force, and Secret was required for submarines. When I checked into the Fleet Administra- tion Unit, I was asked to fill out papers for another clearance. I did as I was asked. I remember that one of the questions asked if I had ever belonged to any fraternal organizations. I looked down the list, circled the DeMolay Society, and answered in the affirmative. I was assigned to the Operational Status Report office (OPSTAT) under Lt. Cdr. Mercado while I awaited the results of my FBI background check for the upgraded clearance. About six months later I was called into the office of the Chief of Staff for Naval Intelligence. I was asked to read the regulations covering the Personnel Reliability Program governing those personnel who had access to nuclear weapons, information on nuclear weapons, launch codes, and various other things having to do with nuclear weapons or anything that came under HQ-CR 44. I was asked to read and then sign a security oath, which I did. I was then told by Captain Caldwell that my security clearance had been upgraded to Top Secret, Q, Sensitive Compartmentalized Information with access authorized on a strict need-to-know basis. He told me to report to the officer in charge of the CINCPACFLT Intelligence William Cooper � 27 Briefing Team the following morning at 0400 hours. I did. What I learned during the time I spent with that briefing team is what led me on my 18-year search that has culminated in the writing of this book. I was later given another upgraded clearance in the crypto category and served as the designated SPECAT operator when I was on watch in the command center. On the day that I learned that the Office of Naval Intelligence had participated in the assassination of President John F. Kennedy and that it was the Secret Service agent driving the limo that had shot Kennedy in the head, I went AWOL with no intention of ever returning. My good friend Bob Swan is the one who talked me into going back. Later, on June 1, 1972, the eve of my wedding, I told Bob everything that I knew about the UFOs, Kennedy's assassination, the Navy, the Secret Government, the coming ice age, Alternatives 1, 2, & 3, Project GALILEO, and the plan for the New World Order. I believed it was all true then and I believe it is all true now. I must warn you, however, that I have found evidence that the secret societies were planning as far back as 1917 to invent an artificial threat from outer space in order to bring humanity together in a one-world govern- ment which they call the New World Order. I am still searching for the truth. I firmly believe that this book is closer to that truth than anything ever previously written. I attempted to leak information to a reporter after my discharge. I was forced off a cliff by a black limo in the hills of Oakland. Two men got out and climbed down to where I lay covered in blood. One bent down and felt for my carotid pulse. The other asked if I was dead. The nearest man said, "No, but he will be." The other replied, "Good, then we don't have to do anything else." They climbed up and drove off. I succeeded in climbing up the bank where I waited until found. A month later I was forced into another accident by the same limo. This time I was to lose my leg. Two men visited me in the hospital. They only wanted to know if I would shut up or if the next time should be final. I told them that I would be a very good little boy and that they needn't worry about me anymore. Under my breath I swore to spill the beans as soon as I could figure out how to do it without unit getting hurt again. It took 16 years, $27,000, a computer and a lot of envelopes, but now everyone knows. I went back to school after leaving the Navy and obtained a degree in photography, served as the Chief Instructor of the Coastal School of Deep Sea Diving, the head of the Mixed Gas Deep Saturation Diving Department and the underwater photography instructor for the College of Oceaneering, Admissions representative for Airco Technical Institute, Assistant Director of Adelphi Business College, Executive Director of Adelphi Business College, National Marketing Coordinator of United Education & 28 � BEHOLD A PALE HORSE Software, Executive Director of Pacific Coast Technical Institute, and Executive Director of National Technical College. I also owned and operated Absolute Image Gallery and Studio of Fine Art Photography. In the spring of 1988 I saw a magazine that made reference to a document discovered by the research team of Moore, Shandera, and Fried- man that outlined the government's knowledge of a downed saucer, dead alien bodies, and an operation called Operation MAJESTIC TWELVE. I knew that Moore and Friedman were government agents and the document was a fraud. I had never heard of Shandera. I knew this because I had seen a list of agents who were to initiate a contingency plan called MAJESTIC that would lead investigators off the track when such a need arose. I decided that it was time for me to enter the arena and expose the cover-up and the disinformation. First it was necessary to convince the known agents that I was just a kook who didn't really know anything. I prepared some bogus information, mixed it with some true information, and passed it to Moore and Friedman through Jim Spieser, the operator of a computer BBS network called Paranet. Spieser was told that the information was to go only to Moore or Friedman; no one else was to see it. I wanted to buy time by convincing these agents to report me to their case officers as harmless, thus allowing me to get the real information out to the public. None of that information was intended to go to the public. Spieser turned out to be working with Moore, however, and posted the files on the computer networks. Spieser then went to Los Angeles, conferred with Moore for three days, then returned and barred me from the Paranet system. Friedman called and elicited my address, the name and address of my employer, and a lot of other personal information. I knew that I was being checked out through the intelligence network and played along. About one week after talking to Friedman two Defense Investigative Service agents showed up at my home and confiscated all my floppy disks. The only thing that prevented them from taking my computer was the fact that it was an XT with no hard drive. I knew that my plan had worked, because they didn't take me. With the help of Annie and a few very close and trusted friends, I prepared the real information, as true and correct as I could remember, and together we did a mailing that, all total, cost me $27,000. We sent the packages to people all over the world. That is what prevented the govern- ment from arresting me or harming me. Any move by them would be interpreted as total confirmation of everything that I had revealed. I also uploaded the information onto computer bulletin boards all across the William Cooper � 29 nation. At the same time I publicly stated that Moore, Shandera, and Friedman are government agents and that the Eisenhower briefing document is a fraud. I was attacked by everyone. They insisted that Moore, Shandera, and Friedman were above reproach. I resigned effective April 15,1989, from the college where I was the Executive Director after Jaime Shandera was seen poking around the grounds. That story is included later in this book. The loss of income was a serious blow. Stan Barrington, the head of the college security depart- ment, came to our aid. Stan gave us $5,000 to help out. I was deeply moved by his faith and trust in me, and so I gave him 24% of whatever was to come out of my efforts down the line. Neither of us ever expected much, and so far we have not been wrong. I have, however, paid Stan back his money, and now whatever he earns is extra. Stan is in charge of printing information and the sale of my papers and tapes. Stan Barrington is my only authorized representative. Moore was proved to be an agent when by his own admission on July 1, 1989, he stated he had participated in spying on fellow researchers, had changed documents, had put out disinformation, and had helped run a scam on Paul Bennowicz that had resulted in Mr. Bennowicz being con- fined to a mental institution. Moore stated that he had been recruited by an intelligence agency and that he knew he had been recruited. He was a witting agent. No one acknowledged that I had been right. From that point on, my Annie and I were followed and harassed. Death threats began showing up on our answering machine. The phone would ring several times during the night, but no one would reply when we answered. Sometimes a man would deliver another death threat. Government cars would park in front and well-dressed men watched the house. The strangest people began to show up at our door, sometimes in the middle of the night. I purchased a .380 automatic for Annie and a 9-mm for me. I taught Annie how to shoot, and she will not hesitate to kill anyone who attempts to harm me, her, or our little daughter. Annie and Pooh (Dorothy's nickname) are the lights in my life. Annie and I were married on July 4,1989. Pooh was born on May 30,1990. My most touching memory of Annie is of the time after 12 hours of labor when we were finally in the delivery room. She had taken no drugs. She had not been given a spinal tap. She did everything naturally. She was drained of energy and was experiencing great pain. She was numb. After a really hard push she looked up at me with all the innocence and trust of a little child and asked, "Did the baby come yet?" It was very hard for me to tell her that the baby had not yet been born, but that is what I did. She seemed to waver for a moment, but only a moment. Annie quickly regained her 30 � BEHOLD A PALE HORSE composure. I could see the love in her eyes as she looked up at me. I squeezed her hand. She took a deep breath and pushed Pooh's little head out into the world. The doctor suctioned the baby's mouth, then Annie gave her all, a push that seemed to come from her very soul � and little Dorothy popped out, announcing her presence with a great cry. I am so proud of Annie. She is my hero. And Pooh is my always and forever friend. Anne and Dorothy William Cooper � 31 At one point I became very upset with the intimidation. I went out to the government car at the curb. I showed the man in the car my 9-mm pistol and told him that we were fed up with their intimidating tactics. I told him that if he or anyone else wanted to know something about me, they should come to the house, sit down, have a cup of coffee, and I would be happy to tell them anything that they want to know. I informed him that if any further attempt was made to harass me or my family I would not hesitate to use my pistol. I then walked behind his car and wrote the license number down. He started the car, drove off, and we have not detected any overt signs of surveillance since that day. They did not give up on us. No one knew the location of our new house when we moved to Arizona. However, when we drove into the driveway, a government car showed up right behind us. The man got out and said he was lost and wanted to know who lived here. I asked him why he wanted to know. He stated that he was a census taker. He said it was his job to ensure that no one out here in the country was left out of the census. He asked my name. I told him to get off the property and to not ever come back. He protested, but left when he saw that I was serious. (I merely asked Annie to get my pistol out of the car.) Now, many people would say that I was paranoid in this instance � until they discover that census takers DO NOT DRIVE GOVERNMENT CARS. I was at the post office one morning when a county sheriff's deputy asked the clerk at the window next to the one where I was buying stamps if "William Cooper" had rented a box. I smiled as the clerk handed him my rental agreement and he copied the information. He didn't learn anything, as we live in the country where there are no addresses. The form had only "Stolen Blvd." listed � a lot of people live on Stolen Boulevard. We have been taken advantage of by every crooked con man, TV producer, scriptwriter, author, and flim-flam expert that there is in this country. I have learned that the TV and print-media reporters and producers that I have met are a pack of liars. They are not objective and don't give a damn about the truth. The only really open media left to the public is talk radio, and even talk radio won't discuss certain subjects. My material has been copied, changed, and even plagiarized. A lot of people have used my material to make money without my knowledge or permis- sion. A Hollywood producer wanted to buy the exclusive rights to my story for ONE DOLLAR! Bill Hamilton begged me to let him include my material in his book entitled Alien Magic. He pretended to be a friend and I let him. I asked for no money and he offered none. His entire book consists of other people's material. He now accuses me of stealing "his" information. Bill Hamilton 32 � BEHOLD A PALE HORSE turned out to be just another UFO flake. I have since learned that I am not the only person of whom he has taken advantage. The most damaging scam was perpetrated by two old, has-been actors turned con men, named Michael Callan and Douglas Deane. I doubt seriously that you will remember either one, Callan was a regular in the cheapy teen beach-blanket movies and Deane never got beyond bit parts and chorus lines. I got involved with them when another actor named Bruce Reed called and asked if I would consent to meet with him and a friend who preferred to remain anonymous. I agreed that they could come to the house where we could talk on familiar turf. I was not eager to meet with someone that I did not know, and especially with an anonymous person away from familiar surroundings. Reed and friend showed up at my home, and the friend turned out to be Michael Callan. They told me that they had read my material and wanted to help. What a joke that statement turned out to be! They told me that they knew how to get me in front of millions of people where I could deliver my message. Callan was slick; he told me he was only interested in helping spread the information, but talked me into signing a five-year management contract that gave him a full 20% of the gross of all of my earnings no matter what the source. He swore that if he didn't show results within six months he would tear up the contract. The first thing that Callan did was shaft his partner, Bruce Reed. He cut Reed out of the action. To prevent me from finding out that he had done it only to get Reed's half of the 20%, Callan told me that Bruce was a drug dealer. Callan said that the public would find out eventually, and Reed's drug involvement would damage me. Everything Callan told me about Reed turned out to be a lie. Stan Barrington called me next, wanting to know why I was trying to dump him. I didn't know what he was talking about. It turned out that Callan was trying to force Stan into giving up his 24% so that Callan could form a 50-50 partnership with me. I told Stan that I had no intention of dumping him. I told him that his 24% was his, that he could keep it, sell it, or give it away and that he did not need my permission. Stan felt much better after that conversation and told Callan to go fly a kite. At that point Callan began working on me to get rid of Stan. I refused. I also told him that he had nothing invested and therefore did not warrant anything. His job was to manage according to our contract. Douglas Deane entered the picture at the January 7,1989, lecture that I gave at the Showboat Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas. Callan brought him to videotape the lecture so that we would have a tape to sell for those thousands of people who pleaded with us to produce a tape. The agree William Cooper � 33 ment was that he would tape the event and the tapes would belong exclusively to me. In return, if the tapes turned out good, Deane would get a contract to produce future tapes. The tapes were terrible and I told both Deane and Callan that I did not want tapes of that poor quality being sold to anyone. They did it anyway behind my back and began the process of stealing my master tapes from all of my other lectures. At the same time Callan drained all the business accounts. He borrowed $1400 from Stan to produce tapes and then kept the money and the tapes. A producer in Germany booked me to do a lecture in that country. To secure the agreement he sent $3,000 to be used for two first-class tickets and as a guarantee that when I got there I would not be cancelled. The pro- ducer cancelled when a German postal strike prevented him from advertis- ing the event. Callan kept the man's $3,000. I did not find out about that until after I fired Callan. At my lecture in San Diego at the Whole Life Expo I found out that Deane was selling tapes and asking people to make checks out to "Need to Know Productions," a phony company. I immediately fired Deane. I informed Callan that we were to do no more business with him whatsoever. I discovered that Callan was telling me that we were having tapes duplicated in Hollywood for $15 per tape, but in reality Deane was doing it on VCRs at his home in Arizona. I asked Callan to return all of my master tapes for all my lectures. He refused and I fired him. When I got rid of Callan, he had stolen everything that we had. We were literally left penniless. He was in possession of all of our master tapes from all of my lectures. We were broke and homeless at that point. If it had not been for a few good friends in Minnesota, we would not have survived. We would be in the streets today. Callan and Deane continue to injure us by selling tapes from my lectures. We get nothing from those sales. They are the most despicable con men and thieves that you can imagine. I paid a visit to Deane's home one Saturday morning to ask him for my master tapes. He was not home, and after a polite conversation with his handyman, I returned to my home. A few days later the sheriff's department called and asked me if I had been to Deane's home that same Saturday. I told him that I had. He asked me if I had tried to break in Deane's home and I told him that I had not. He thanked me and that was the end of it. I had no idea what it was all about until I was served with a retraining order. It seems that Deane's guilty conscience had made him afraid that I would return. He slit his own tires, made a report to the sheriff that I had done it, and then procured a restraining order from the local court. I have never been questioned or accused by the police or sheriff other than what I have already disclosed. I believe that their goal from the 34 � BEHOLD A PALE HORSE very beginning was to try and destroy my efforts at educating the American people. They damn near succeeded. CHAPTER 1 EXCERPTS FROM SILENT WEAPONS FOR QUIET WARS Copy furnished by Mr. Tom Young A fellow Warrior in the cause of Freedom Excerpts printed word for word exactly as discovered (With the added comments of William Cooper) (Emphasis added by William Cooper) 36 � BEHOLD A PALE HORSE William Cooper The Illuminati's declaration of War upon the people of America. [Above title added by WC] WC/Author's Note: I read Top Secret documents which explained that "Silent Weapons for Quiet Wars" is the doctrine adopted by the Policy Committee of the Bilderberg Group during its first known meeting in 1954. A copy found in 1969 was in the possession of Naval Intelligence. The following document, dated May 1979, was found on July 7,1986, in anIBM copier that had been purchased at a surplus sale. TOP SECRET Silent Weapons for Quiet Wars An introductory programming manual Operations Research Technical Manual TM-SW7905.1 WELCOME ABOARD This publication marks the 25th anniversary of the Third World War, called the "Quiet War/' being conducted using subjective biological warfare, fought with "silent weapons." This book contains an introductory description of this war, its strate- gies, and its weaponry. May 1979 #74-1120 SECURITY It is patently impossible to discuss social engineering or the automat- ion of a society, i.e., the engineering of social automation systems (SILENT WEAPONS) on a NATIONAL or WORLDWIDE SCALE without implyingextensive OBJECTIVES of SOCIAL CONTROL and DESTRUCTION OF HUMAN LIFE, i.e., SLAVERY and GENOCIDE. This manual is in itself an analog declaration of intent. Such a writing must be SECURED FROM PUBLIC SCRUTINY. Otherwise, it might be recognized as a TECHNICALLY FORMAL DECLARATION OF DOMES- TIC WAR. Furthermore, whenever any person or group of persons in a Chapter One Silent Weapons for Quiet Wars � 37 position of great power and WITHOUT FULL KNOWLEDGE and CONSENT OF THE PUBLIC, USES SUCH KNOWLEDGE and METHODOL- OGY FOR ECONOMIC CONQUEST �it must be understood that A STATE OF DOMESTIC WARFARE EXISTS between said person or group of persons and the public. The SOLUTION of today's PROBLEMS REQUIRES an approach which is RUTHLESSLY CANDID, with NO AGONIZING OVER RELI- GIOUS, MORAL or CULTURAL VALUES. YOU have QUALIFIED for this project BECAUSE of your ABILITY to LOOK at HUMAN SOCIETY with COLD OBJECTIVITY, and yet analyze and DISCUSS your OBSERVATIONS and CONCLUSIONS with OTHERS of similar INTELLECTUAL capacity WITHOUT a LOSS of DISCRETION or HUMILITY. Such virtues are exercised in your own best interest. Do not deviate from them. WC/Author's Note: All above emphases are mine as are those in the following two sections and including bracketed additions throughout. I do recognize this document, based upon the document's own admission, as a formal Declaration of War by the Illuminati upon the Citizens of the United States of America. I acknowledge that a State of War exists and has existed between the Citizens of the United States of America and the Illuminati aggressor based upon this recognition. I present to you that the peacefulCitizens of this nation are fully justified in taking whatever steps may be neccessary, including violence, to identify, counterattack, and destroy the enemy. I base this statement upon the God-given right of any peaceful people to defend themselves against attack and destruction by any enemy wagingwar against them. I cite the principles outlined in the Declaration of Inde- pendence, the Constitution of the United States of America, and the fullyrecognized and acknowledged historical precedents that have served as the justification for destruction of tyrants. HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION Silent weapon technology has evolved from Operations Research (O.R.), a strategic and tactical methodology developed under the MILITARY MANAGEMENT [Eisenhower] in England during World War II. The original purpose of Operations Research was to study the strategic and tactical problems of air and land defense with the objective of effective use of limited military resources against foreign enemies (i.e., logistics). It was soon recognized by those in positions of power [THE COUN- CIL ON FOREIGN RELATIONS] that the same methods might be useful for totally controlling a society. But better tools were necessary. Social engineering (the analysis and automation of a society) requires the correlation of great amounts of constantly changing economic informa 38 � BEHOLD A PALE HORSE William Cooper tion (data), so a high-speed computerized data-processing system was necessary which could race ahead of the society and predict when society would arrive for capitulation. Relay computers were too slow, but the electronic computer, invented in 1946 by J. Presper Eckert and John W. Mauchly, filled the bill. The next breakthrough was the development of the simplex method of linear programing in 1947 by the mathematician George B. Dantzig. Then in 1948, the transistor, invented by J. Bardeen, W. H. Brattain, and W. Shockley, promised great expansion of the computer field by reducing space and power requirements. With these three inventions under their direction, those in positions of power strongly suspected that it was possible for them to control the whole world with the push of a button. Immediately, the ROCKEFELLER FOUNDATION got in on the ground floor by making a four-year grant to HARVARD COLLEGE, funding the HARVARD ECONOMIC RESEARCH PROJECT for the study of the structure of the American economy. One year later, in 1949, THE UNITED STATES AIR FORCE joined in. In 1952 the original grant period terminated, and a high-level meeting of the ELITE [Illuminati] was held to determine the next phase of social operations research. The Harvard project had been very fruitful, as is borne out by the publication of some of its results in 1953 suggesting the feasibility of economic (social) engineering. (Studies in the Structure of the American Economy � copyright 1953 by Wassily Leontief, International Sci- ences Press Inc., White Plains, New York.) Engineered in the last half of the decade of the 1940s, the new Quiet War machine stood, so to speak, in sparkling gold-plated hardware on the showroom floor by 1954. With the creation of the maser in 1954, the promise of unlocking UN LIMITED SOURCES OF FUSION ATOMIC ENERGY FROM THE HEAVY HYDROGEN IN SEA WATER and the consequent availability of unlimited social power was a possibility only decades away. The combination was irresistible. The QUIET WAR was quietly DECLARED by the INTERNATIONAL ELITE [THE BILDERBERG GROUP] at a meeting held in 1954. Although the silent weapons system was nearly exposed 13 years later, the evolution of the new weapon-system has never suffered any major setbacks. This volume marks the 25th anniversary of the beginning of the Quiet War. Already this domestic war has had many victories on many fronts throughout the world. Chapter One Silent Weapons for Quiet Wars � 39 POLITICAL INTRODUCTION In 1954 it was well recognized by those in positions of authority that it was only a matter of time, only a few decades, before the general public would be able to grasp and upset the cradle of power, for the very elements of the new silent-weapon technology were as accessible for a public Utopia as they were for providing a private Utopia. The ISSUE of PRIMARY CONCERN, that of DOMINANCE, revolved a round the subject of the energy sciences. ENERGY Energy is recognized as the key to all activity on earth. Natural science is the study of the sources and control of natural energy, and social science, theoretically expressed as economics, is the study of the sources and control of social energy. Both are bookkeeping systems: mathematics. Therefore, mathematics is the primary energy science. And the book- keeper can be king if the public can be kept ignorant of the methodology of the bookkeeping. All science is merely a means to an end. The means is knowledge. The end is control. [THE END ALWAYS JUSTIFIES THE MEANS.] Beyond this remains only one issue: Who will be the beneficiary? In 1954 this was the issue of primary concern. Although the so- called "moral issues" were raised, in view of the law of natural selection it was agreed that a nation or world of people who will not use their intelligence are no better than animals who do not have intelligence. Such people are beasts of burden and steaks on the table by choice and consent. CONSEQUENTLY, in the interest of future world order, peace, and tranquility, it was decided to privately wage a quiet war against the American public with an ultimate objective of permanently shifting the natural and social energy (wealth) of the undisciplined and irresponsible many into the hands of the self-disciplined, responsible, and worthy few. In order to implement this objective, it was necessary to create, secure, and apply new weapons which, as it turned out, were a class of weapons so subtle and sophisticated in their principle of operation and public appearance as to earn for themselves the name "silent weapons." In conclusion, the objective of economic research, as conducted by the magnates capital (banking) and the industries of commodities (goods) and vices, is the establishment of an economy which is totally predict- able and manipulative. In order to achieve a totally predictable economy, the low-class elements of the society must be brought under total control, i.e., must be 40 � BEHOLD A PALE HORSE William Cooper housebroken, trained, and assigned a yoke and long-term social duties from a very early age, before they have an opportunity to question the propriety of the matter. In order to achieve such conformity, the lower- class family unit must be disintegrated by a process of increasing preoccupation of the parents and the establishment of government-operated day-care centers for the occupationally orphaned children. The quality of education given to the lower class must be of the poorest sort, so that the moat of ignorance isolating the inferior class from the superior class is and remains incomprehensible to the inferior class. With such an initial handicap, even bright lower class individuals have little if any hope of extricating themselves from their assigned lot in life. This form of slavery is essential to maintaining some measure of social order, peace, and tranquility for the ruling upper class. DESCRIPTIVE INTRODUCTION OF THE SILENT WEAPON Everything that is expected from an ordinary weapon is expected from a silent weapon by its creators, but only in its own manner of junctioning. It shoots situations, instead of bullets; propelled by data processing, instead of a chemical reaction (explosion); originating from bits of data, instead of grains of gunpowder; from a computer, instead of a gun; operated by a computer programmer, instead of a marksman; under the orders of a banking magnate, instead of a military general. It makes no obvious explosive noises, causes no obvious physical or mental injuries, and does not obviously interfere with anyone's daily social life. Yet it makes an unmistakable "noise," causes unmistakable physical and mental damage, and unmistakably interferes with daily social life, i.e., unmistakable to a trained observer, one who knows what to look for. The public cannot comprehend this weapon, and therefore cannot believe that they are being attacked and subdued by a weapon. The public might instinctively feel that something is wrong [ISN'T THAT THE TRUTH?], but because of the technical nature of the silent weapon, they cannot express their feeling in a rational way, or handle the problem with intelligence. Therefore, they do not know how to cry for help, and do not know how to associate with others to defend themselves against it. When a silent weapon is applied gradually, the public adjusts/adapts to its presence and learns to tolerate its encroachment on their lives until the pressure (psychological via economic) becomes too great and they Chapter One Silent Weapons for Quiet Wars � 41 crack up. Therefore, the silent weapon is a type of biological warfare. It attacks the vitality, options, and mobility of the individuals of a society by know- ing, understanding, manipulating, and attacking their sources of natural and social energy, and their physical, mental, and emotional strengths and weaknesses. THEORETICAL INTRODUCTION Give me control over a nation's currency, and I care not who makes its laws. Mayer Amschel Rothschild (1743 - 1812) Today's silent weapons technology is an outgrowth of a simple idea discovered, succinctly expressed, and effectively applied by the quoted Mr. Mayer Amschel Rothschild. Mr. Rothschild discovered the missing passive component of economic theory known as economic inductance. He, of course, did not think of his discovery in these 20th-century terms, and, to be sure, mathematical analysis had to wait for the Second Industrial Rev- olution, the rise of the theory of mechanics and electronics, and finally, the invention of the electronic computer before it could be effectively applied in the control of the world economy. GENERAL ENERGY CONCEPTS In the study of energy systems, there always appear three elementary concepts. These are potential energy, kinetic energy, and energy dissipa- tion. And corresponding to these concepts, there are three idealized, essentially pure physical counterparts called passive components. (1) In the science of physical mechanics, the phenomenon of poten- tial energy is associated with a physical property called elasticity or stiff- ness, and can be represented by a stretched spring. In electronic science, potential energy is stored in a capacitor instead of a spring. This property is called capacitance instead of elasticity or stiff - ness. (2) In the science of physical mechanics, the phenomenon of kinetic energy is associated with a physical property called inertia or mass, and can be represented by a mass or a flywheel in motion. In electronic science, kinetic energy is stored in an inductor (in a magnetic field) instead of a mass. This property is called inductance in- stead of inertia. (3) In the science of physical mechanics, the phenomenon of energy 42 � BEHOLD A PALE HORSE William Cooper dissipation is associated with a physical property called friction or resistance, and can be represented by a dashpot or other device which convertssystem energy into heat. In electronic science, dissipation of energy is performed by an element called either a resistor or a conductor, the term "resistor" being the onegenerally used to express the concept of friction, and the term "conductor" being generally used to describe a more ideal device (e.g., wire) employed to convey electronic energy efficiently from one location to another. The property of a resistance or conductor is measured as either resistance orconductance reciprocals. In economics these three energy concepts are associated with: (1) Economic Capacitance � Capital (money, stock/inventory, invest- ments in buildings and durables, etc.) (2) Economic Conductance � Goods (production flow coefficients) (3) Economic Inductance � Services (the influence of the population of industry on output) All of the mathematical theory developed in the study of one energy system (e.g., mechanics, electronics, etc.) can be immediately applied in thestudy of any other energy system (e.g., economics). MR. ROTHSCHILD'S ENERGY DISCOVERY What Mr. Rothschild had discovered was the basic principle of power, influence, and control over people as applied to economics. That principle is "when you assume the appearance of power, people soon give it to you." Mr. Rothschild had discovered that currency or deposit loan accounts had the required appearance of power that could be used to INDUCE PEOPLE [WC emphasis] (inductance, with people corresponding to a magnetic field) into surrendering their real wealth in exchange for a promise of greater wealth (instead of real compensation). They would put up real collateral in exchange for a loan of promissory notes. Mr. Rothschild found that he could issue more notes than he had backing for, so long as he had someone's stock of gold as a persuader to show to his customers. Mr. Rothschild loaned his promissory notes to individuals and to governments. These would create overconfidence. Then he would make money scarce, tighten control of the system, and collect the collateral through the obligation of contracts. The cycle was then repeated. These pressures could be used to ignite a war. Then he would control the availability of currency to determine who would win the war. That government which agreed to give him control of its economic system got his support. Collection of debts was guaranteed by economic aid to the enemy of the debtor. The profit derived from this economic methodology made Mr. Chapter One Silent Weapons for Quiet Wars � 43 Rothschild all the more able to extend his wealth. He found that the public greed would allow currency to be printed by government order BEYOND THE LIMITS [WC emphasis] (inflation) of backing in precious metal or the production of goods and services (gross national product, GNP). APPARENT CAPITAL AS "PAPER" INDUCTOR In this structure, credit, presented as a pure element called "currency," has the appearance of capital, but is, in fact, negative capital. Hence, it has the appearance of service, but is, in fact, indebtedness or debt. It is there- fore an economic inductance instead of an economic capacitance, and if balanced in no other way, will be balanced by the negation of population (war, genocide). The total goods and services represent real capital called the gross national product, and currency may be printed up to this level and still represent economic capacitance; but currency printed beyond this level is subtractive, represents the introduction of economic inductance, and constitutes notes of indebtedness. War is therefore the balancing of the system by killing the true creditors (the public which we have taught to exchange true value for inflated currency) and falling back on whatever is left of the resources of nature and regeneration of those resources. Mr. Rothschild had discovered that currency gave him the power to rearrange the economic structure to his own advantage, to shift economic inductance to those economic positions which would encourage the great- est economic instability and oscillation. The final key to economic control had to wait until there was sufficient data and high-speed computing equipment to keep close watch on the economic oscillations created by price shocking and excess paper energy credits � paper inductance/inflation. BREAKTHROUGH The aviation field provided the greatest evolution in economic engineering by way of the mathematical theory of shock testing. In this process, a projectile is fired f