ROFLMAOWTIME! MASS PROTEST! Well Junior Cape Crusaders give our imprisoned POW Hero Leader "Commander" Jack "Desert Fraud" Idema a microphone and he will lie is skinny, cowardly ass off. Recently Jackbo went on his Whore Radio program with associate fraudsters Ted "Get Fit in Bed" Kavanau and Barry "The Fibber" "GoooooooD Loves You" Farber another Chrsitian fraud and announced a MASSIVE PRO-JACK IDEMA rally was held at the Afghan Embassy in Washington DC.
Metro PD deployed hundreds of officers! Had their SWAT Unit deployed on roof tops, with helicopters flying overhead! Yep the rally was massive. The Capitol Hill Police estimated that the size of the crowd ranged between....four and five...... FOUR OR FIVE PEOPLE dress in blue burkas! PERIOD!
Oops! Did we say four or five? 4 0r 5 people or were they creatures? LOL ....4 or 5? YEP MASSIVE!
It was the FOUR BIMBOS! Which included Lynn "The Lying Brain" Thomas! Plus their trusty side kick photo-journo BIMBESKY! Jackbo your such a lying piece of garbage. Jack goes on to say that he has had his teeth knocked out because of being tortured. LOL! Gee Jack thats just to bad. We know a few people who would just love to knock your teeth out! Jackbo boasted of his exploits in Afghanistan in the 80s and 90s.... Right Jackbo you were in Afghanistan in the 80s and 90s and even back then you were hunting for Bin Laden! LOL! What a lying midget!
LOL! You see Cape Crusaders if Jackbo ever said any of this in a court of law he would not only get his legal butt handed to him but his teeth as well.
Well Jackbo while your sitting in Jail play acting hero lying your cowardly pussy helicopter tour guide ass off. Real Green Berets, the ones YOU are banned from partying with were doing doing just that. Having a PARTY!
Fighting soldiers, tender brothers
By TIM GHIANNI
The $10,000 bottle of scotch explains why globe-trotting author Robin Moore of "Green Berets" and "French Connection" fame has settled in Hopkinsville, Ky. "This is home," says th 80-year-old author who purchased the bottle of Chivas Regal at an auction to fund a Green Beret "safe house."
Tucked into the corn country nudged against Campbell Army Airfield's perimeter, the safe house is actually a semi-secret clubhouse where Green Berets seek fellowship.
Moore's bid on that bottle of scotch he outbid the previous high offer by $9,500 helped his beloved brothers in arms, the subjects of his most-acclaimed book, "The Green Berets," buy this worn farmhouse.
"We're the only ones who understand what we do," says Steve Stone, referring to "The Brotherhood" of Green Berets, whether fresh from Iraq or weathered by Vietnam, who converge here. He nods to Moore. "And that's our icon sitting right there."
Men who've lived with death ricocheting around them know nothing is forever . . Except that bottle of scotch.
"This bottle is our version of Kennedy's eternal flame," says Stone, reaching into a closet to retrieve the expensive hooch. "We always keep it full for Mr. Moore and his friends."
Moore didn't just popularize the term "Green Berets" in his book about the Special Forces in Vietnam; he earned lifetime membership in The Brotherhood. "There's no such thing as an ex-Green Beret," explains Stone. You are a Green Beret, and then you're dead, whether of battle wounds or of old age.
Thanks to his Harvard classmate and pal Robert F. Kennedy and RFK's big brother Moore talks of "Jack,"(NOT YOU JACKBO BUT JACK KENNEDY) as if he's in the room the author is the only civilian to go through training andserve in combat as a Green Beret. The 36-year-old Sheraton Hotels heir simply wanted towrite a book. Instead, he chronicled history, fueled a myth. Most of all, he became The Brotherhood's literary sibling.
When illness began to slow him, with Parkinson's creeping in and throat cancer the undiagnosed, he and wife Helen moved to Hopkinsville, the retirement home of many members of the 5th Special Forces Group (Airborne), the Green Berets stationed at nearby Fort Campbell.
"This is where we wanted to live," Moore says, voice softened by the radiation and chemo for the cancer he prays has been licked. "My friends are here. I was with the 5th Group in Vietnam, and I knew more people here than anywhere else."
Their home in the Great Oaks subdivision suits this Green Beret author. There's a pool and a garden. Black Hawks regularly chop the air overhead, and during training there's a soundtrack of artillery fire.
The library is crammed with Moore's books and resource materials for his writing. He is working on his memoirs (WITHOUT JACKBOs HELP THANK GOD!) and a book about reincarnation. His daily writing regimen takes him to the computer by 7:30 a.m. Some days "my fingers don't work so well" because of the Parkinson's, so he dictates. He spends the afternoon reviewing the morning's work beforestopping at 5:30 p.m. for a taste of Johnny Walker Black.
A comfy existence for sure. But comfort could be found in the property the author still owns in Jamaica, where the couple first met a half-century ago, and in a cottage in Yorkshire, England.
Next-door neighbor Robert Hall illustrates why the Moores chose this as their destination. "I come over to mow their lawn," says this retired Green Beret who also claims friendship with Ross Perot. "Helen likes to let the grass grow long. She doesn't know copperheads like long grass."
Hall's not just watching out for beloved neighbors, he's protecting the icon of The Brotherhood.
Steve Stone, a retired major who is secretary of Chapter 38 of the Special Forces Association and "keeper" of its clubhouse, says "The Green Berets" book and its movie version starring John Wayne are almost biblical. "The movie's one of about three movies that didn't show us as crazy killers."
"I just was telling the story of these men and what they did," Moore says, saying the book, its subsequent daily comic strip and the movie were misunderstood by "the peaceniks." When he wrote the book, "I wasn't pro-Green Beret or anti-Green Beret." He was a writer walking in the boots of men he now forever regards as heroes.
That love is mutual. "The fellows are always dropping in to visit with Robin," says Helen, 20 years her husband's junior. "And if I need to be gone for a while, one of them comes to stay with him." Al Morace displays that devotion during lunch at a local family restaurant. The retired Green Beret sergeant major served in Vietnam when Moore was there. "He didn't know me. We weren't on the same team. But we all knew about Robin and what he was doing," Morace says.
Morace keeps a steady eye on Moore to make sure he can eat his half-slab of ribs despite Parkinson's palsy. Subtly helping his "big brother" with knife and napkin, Morace insures that Moore's dignity is preserved despite the messy ribs.
The author is a frequent and much-sought guest at Fort Campbell ceremonies. "I fall down sometimes," says Moore, who supports himself with a cane. His collection of walking canes, by the way, includes one that holds a tube for scotch.
"When I was in Afghanistan, I had one like this. Me and some of the fellows sat down and shared it," Moore says with a twinkle in his piercing blue eyes.
That cane burst someplace in Taliban country, but a duplicate has been found. And the hidden tube does indeed contain dark amber liquid.
It's not what's in the cane that makes Moore stumble. Rather, it's the reason he uses the cane at all, the Parkinson's, that steals mobility and stability. When he does tumble at functions, the Green Beret at his side for he's always escorted by brothers grabs Moore's elbows and they continue walking, without missing precise military stride. It's a gentle gesture among hard men.
Helen Moore explains the relationship simply: "One of the things that is special about Robin's Green Beret brothers is that they treat Robin as a person. They don't ask for anything in return.
"They aren't asking for help getting a book published. They aren't asking for money. "For us, it's so nice to be around a group of people like these. They have this wonderful respect and love and consideration for Robin.
"When Robin was sick (his throat cancer was diagnosed and treated not long after he and Helen moved here a year ago), the help and support we got from these men was incredible."
The Moores reciprocate the love by helping with the safe house. "We donate bits from time to time and I have my odd coin jar. As it fills up, we donate that," Helen says. At least once a week "we go out there and have a bit of fun with the guys."
Books by Moore jam the safe house's bookshelf. There's also a photo of the Duke from the filming of "The Green Berets" on the wall. Other decorations include a "Wanted Dead or Alive" poster for Osama bin Laden and the mounted head of a cape buffalo. Green Berets, who have served in places such as Somalia, call the African beast "the deadliest animal alive."
Dead, the buffalo wears the beret of Joe Cyr, a clubhouse regular who died of cancer. cigarette dangles from the animal's mouth.
Stone also points to a cross made of charred metal. It's sacred and it came from someplace secret "up north," he hints. It also traveled back and forth to Afghanistan. Perhaps it's made of a piece of the Twin Towers? Stone will say no more.
The history of Moore's relationship with these troops also fills the author's home, 20 minutes from this outpost.
Moore points to photos of himself in Vietnam, where he was exposed to the brutality of war. "We were with the Montagnards (the hill tribesmen who fought alongside U.S. forces). We were fighting Viet Cong. I had to shoot a guy. If I hadn't, someone else would have. Then I was told, 'If you don't cut the right ear off, they'll think you're a (wimp).' '' The Montagnards collected bounty for each ear collected.
There's also a copy of "The Ballad of the Green Berets," the song Moore wrote with the late Barry Sadler, a member of The Brotherhood who sang that hit recording.
"I'm in great company, Robin," writes "The Duke, John Wayne," on a photo taken during the 1967 filming of the movie.
"I really liked Duke," says the author, who spent many nights nursing the script and whiskey with Wayne on the set at Fort Benning, GA. "We rode motorcycles together, and one time I crashed. Duke pulls up and I tell him I broke my collarbone. He picks me up off the ground and says 'You're all right, Robin.' The writer laughs, still softly, because of his cancer. "Duke was a good guy. He said to me atthe time, 'Robin, I'm trying to lick cancer.' I said, 'I hope you do.' ''
Wayne won that battle with cancer, though he was felled a dozen years later by the disease.
"Now, all these years later, I'm licking cancer," Moore says. "I'm an eternal optimist. And I think about Duke. If he beat cancer, I can, too."
A painting in the living room shows The Blue Lagoon in Jamaica, where the author lived in the 1950s and where he and sidekick Errol Flynn swashbuckled through the female populace.
"Robin was something of the town stud," according to Helen, who first met him down there. She was a schoolgirl of 15, perhaps younger, and her family nixed any relationship between her and the twice-divorced writer or with his drinking buddy.
Helen's family moved away, putting the kibosh on that relationship for a half-century or so. By the time Helen and Moore reconnected for good, he was in his late 70s and had been married four times. She also had enjoyed a full family life in England and South Africa. After 50 years, the two finally were both single and past the age of consent. "We've been together ever since" they met up again in 2002, she says.
They were married at a 2005 Green Beret convention in Nashville. Morace, in blue jeans and Green Beret, held a shotgun to the author's back as he marched them down the aisle at the Music City Sheraton.
"It was truly wonderful," says the bride. Soon after the nuptials, they began Hopkinsville house-shopping to be near members of The Brotherhood.
At the safe house, where Moore sits on this day nursing a glass of club soda on the rocks, he is regarded as oracle, ailing older brother and national treasure.
"He's a bit of history," offers Wendell Greene, a retired Sergeant First Class. "I read the book when I was a rare young man. And I said, 'I'm going to be a Green Beret.' "
The author smiles, says he's going to live the rest of his days in the embrace of these men.
Then he whispers, "Now I'd like some of that $10,000 scotch.'' The Green Berets scramble to pour him about $500 worth".
"Stone looks through the smoke of his cigarette and warns: "We love this man. If ever we caught anybody taking advantage of Robin, he'd be well, we'd circle the wagons around Robin." A half-dozen of his fellows nod. Some cross their forearms."
Eh.... Jackbo getting the message?
"Stone looks through the smoke of his cigarette and warns: "We love this man. If ever we caught anybody taking advantage of Robin, he'd be well, we'd circle the wagons around Robin."
Well Jackbo if your teeth are not knocked out by now just maybe, just maybe they will be after you return! BTW Jackbo want to bet that this is one SAFE house you would not be welcomed at or have the BALLS to drop over and say hello!
FOXTROT YOU JACKBO