In the same time frame the Assad regime in Syria was also producing chemical agents such as Sarin, Yperite and the hyper-deadly VX substance highlighted in this novel. Theirs was a far more successful program than Hussein’s. Not that long ago, reliable sources listed Syrian stockpiles as being the third most prolific in the world, by measurement in tons.
To complete this intertwining loop and connect the dots to the abominable triad alluded to in the book, it is also common knowledge that the Iranians worked closely with the Syrians in pursuing these weapon technologies.
The group Hezbollah has a long history of committing unconscionable acts of terrorism. They first came to prominence in the early 1980s when striking against assorted peacekeeping forces in Lebanon. Their most well-known scheme of those years was the bombing of the Marine Barracks in Beirut, which took the lives of 241 U.S. Marines and sailors.
From its inception Hezbollah has depended on Iran for finances, training and leadership. Again, and as described in this novel, these needs are funneled through the Iranian Revolutionary Guard (IRG). In time this relationship has become almost symbiotic and continues on to this day. Whenever Hezbollah makes headlines in yet another heinous crime against humankind, you can just about bet their Iranian benefactors were somehow involved.
As for the many other historical events serving as backdrops to this story I strongly encourage you, the reader, to do research into whatever sparks your interest. History does repeat itself, mainly due to the unchanging corruptibility and innate wickedness of human nature. A knowledge of history, along with an understanding of those inseparable human vices and frailties, allows one to peer into the future with a certain discernment.
We as a people should become more involved in doing so. It is essential to our basic civic responsibilities in ensuring a stronger, safer nation for future generations of Americans. Just as importantly, it also allows us to pay proper homage to those who gave all their tomorrows for us.
Some of those were the men at the Marine Barracks in Beirut on the morning of October 23, 1983. A lot of good Marines died that day, more than a few whom I knew personally.
Two of them were members of my old counterintelligence team.
One of them took my billet there, the one I was slotted to fill before leaving the Marine Corps after my second hitch.
And yes, there is such a thing as survivor’s guilt.
“The first duty is to remember” …
Ben H. English
Alpine, Texas
September 11th, 2020
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ben H. English is an eighth-generation Texan who was raised in the Big Bend Country of the Lone Star State. He attended schools in Presidio, Marfa and later, a one room school house in Terlingua. During this time his family had several ranching and business interests in the area, including the historic Lajitas Trading Post which was run by his grandparents.
Mr. English served seven years in the US Marine Corps and upon returning to civilian life, graduated college with honors. He joined the Texas Highway Patrol in 1986, where he served until his retirement in late 2008. He spent the following two years working part time as a Criminal Justice teacher at Ozona High School.
Mr. English has spent much of his life prowling about in the lower Big Bend. His first book, Yonderings, detailed just some of those journeys and was published by Texas Christian University Press.
Presently, Mr. English and his wife live in Alpine, Texas so they can be closer to the land they both love so much. To this day, he likes nothing better than grabbing a pack and some canteens, and heading off in a direction he has never been before.
