May I do a rant please? About the Middle East.... May I, please?

Right after my first marriage failed, and after I'd had my first heart attack shortly after that, I left the hydro-electric power company that I'd been working for, north of Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario, and as luck would have it, found a new job in the Civil Service in Ottawa, with our federal government. It also has a few hydro-electric power stations, but located in our 'Far North' above the 60th Parallel; five, to be specific. Or at least, five in the mid-1960s while I was around.

Because of the ongoing divorce procedures and court appearances, and all, I wasn't well enough off to afford my own apartment, so I had moved into nearby rooming house, on a side street, a few blocks from the downtown office where I was then employed. I enjoyed that office job, even though I was the only one in our Engineering Section who was not either an Engineer or a Certified Technologist. And believe me, I was kept constantly aware of those facts by an elegantly-suited and impeccably mannered Technologist from Budapest named Gus. Gus constantly referred to me as "The Gold-Plated Nobody", and I used to smile along with him, because I was Executive Assistant to the Manager of Hydro Stations. And as far as we could tell, Gus had been relocated to our place because he had been suspected of being a foreign spy while employed in a similar Technologist position at our Chalk River Nuclear Facilities. So they moved him 'downtown' to keep an eye on him.

But he was right - I WAS the 'gold-plated nobody' and I felt it. But my gracious and helpful boss, a jolly, well-fed Chinese gentleman, originally from here in Vancouver, said "Just ignore Gus. He's more bark than bite. Take your time, study our systems here, and get familiar with where to find all our information in these rows of filing cabinets down the center of the office, and just be handy for when we get a call from up north somewhere, asking what to do because one of their units isn't running as it should."  I remember asking Joe "Are you sure you should have hired me as your new Assistant?" And Joe saying, "I was the on-site Engineer when one of those hydro plants was built, right after I got out of University, and if I can survive around here with some of these know-it-alls, then you shouldn't have any trouble at all. And if they really give you a bad time, come in and talk to me about it, and I'll have a walk around and pour a little oil on troubled waters, OK?" And he was smiling. He smiled a lot. I loved that guy!

One evening, back at our spaghetti-palace rooming house several blocks from the office, there was a knock on the front door, and a very impressive gentleman of obvious military bearing asked our weary landlady for a room. She gave him the only space available, which was a dismal little cubbyhole with one window, a single bed, and a small desk & chair, tucked underneath the stairway leading up to the third floor. This military type in civies caught my interest because his room was at the end of my hallway, and he didn't fit your average rooming house inmate's description. I was sure there was a story there, and I was right.

After we got acquainted, I got that story, in living color almost. He had been working as a wholesale hardware salesman, but had an unreasonable affection for 'Dr. Smirnoff', that famous Vodka. He had been fired. Then, his wife, a middle-management civil servant with a very comfortable income, had thrown him out of their upscale suburban home, leaving him now jobless and roofless. So he had come to our humble abode, a rickety old former timber baron's home in what once had been a posh part of the nation's capital. And I had to ask, "Which army are you from?" He replied, "You've noticed, I see."  I said, "Yes Sir! It's part of what I do around the neighborhood these days." So he began telling his story....

The story was that he had been an officer in the British Imperial Army, stationed in Palestine as Peacekeepers prior to the founding of Israel. And being Jewish, when Moshe and his pals began acquiring what became Israel, he decided to desert the British Imperial Army and join Moshe and the rest to create their new homeland. Their 'Freedom Fighters' kept uniforms and guns in their living quarters, and upon hearing a rallying call from a mobile radio transmitter mounted on a truck which they kept moving to avoid detection by the British, these 'Freedom Fighters' would jump onto a city bus or other public transportation and assemble where instructed, for their next disagreement with the local inhabitants. And 'our boy' here was their Colonel. Fascinating! I'm getting a bird's eye view of the founding of Israel! I hung on every word, and remembered most of them too. It's a great story.

Since our boy, the Colonel, had been British Imperial Army at a base in the desert there, it was hardly a surprise that one night, one of those British Army Tanks went mysteriously missing. They had stolen it for their Freedom Fighters. And they drove it to various locations, at nights, near main roads, and dug a pit in the desert to hide it deeply enough in the ground that only its gun turret was above ground, and covered with camouflage. Then, during the day, they used it to shell passing British Patrols on that particular road. Then they moved it again.

Being ex Air Force myself, I had to know how the Israeli Air Force began. And it began from collections of contributions in and around New York City from members of the Friends of Israel, who then purchased from the Piper Aircraft Co. two disassembled Piper Cubs in crates, and shipped them on a freighter from New York to Tel Aviv. Upon arrival, those were taken out into the desert, where their side doors were left off, and their landing gear was equipped with balloon-tired wheels designed for landings in that desert. The doors were left off so that the pilot of each could carry behind his own seat two crates of hand grenades, used for dropping on those British Patrols they'd find in the countryside. That truck-mounted mobile broadcasting station would proudly announce, "Today, elements of the Israeli Air Forces once again made raids against the British, and all our aircraft returned safely!"

This could be one hell of a movie..... And THAT'S how it all began, Kiddies....And it's still in progress..... And all of that being still in progress is exactly why our Persian neighbors in that region want to have their own bomb. They know that America has been propping up Israel ever since Day One, and there's no end in sight, which makes them wonder how far afield these Israelis may decide to go while acquiring more land. And the Persians are aware that Israel has somewhere between 80 and 100 nuclear warheads tucked away for emergencies. And the Persians know that during the Cold War, it was only a balance of forces which kept us from a fire-fight between America and Russia. And the Persians know that their own chances of survival are much better if they have their own bomb in such a loaded situation. We may never see Peace there without that becoming fact, and being fulfilled.

And those ancient cultured Persians, a proud people, naturally resent being treated as 'second-class citizens' in a land where their history precedes any of their rivals. And they object to being told by 'the new kids on the block' that they can't sell their own oil to pay their own bills unless they kiss some foreign infidel's ass and publicly humiliate themselves in the process. And I don't blame them one little bit. I would feel exactly the same way myself in their shoes. And I think you would too. So let's 'lighten up' on them, shall we? We're going the wrong way here.....