Canyon Country Zephyr page 2

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"Oh no...so they got away?"

"No," he replied grimly. "I killed both of them."

He waited for a moment; then he continued. "I killed one of them instantly, and I thought the other was dead too. But I turned my back on him and he shot me with a small gun that he had concealed. So I finished him off. I was seriously wounded, but, obviously, I survived."

I didn't know what to think. Just minutes before, Pat and I had been chatting about the weather and the remarkable good health of Sue the Dog. Now my new friend Armando had led me into the dark and violent world of the OSS and the incredible role he played in it. If I could believe him.

"Did you recover the diamonds?" I asked finally.

"Yes. And then I threw the Germans into the Amazon and fed them to the pirranahs."

"Oh," was all I could manage to say.

"And can you believe this? The British had a force down there, and when they learned what I had done, they arrested me for desecrating a dead person. Fortunately, Donovan came to my defense and got me off. Besides, I was able to prove that they were Nazi agents."

"How did you do that?" I was afraid to ask.

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"Why President Roosevelt's office. You see, Franklin Roosevelt was president during the--"

"I know he was president during the war," I interrupted. "You actually met President Roosevelt?"

"Yes, of course. He was a great man. Donovan was too...and tough. No man was tougher than Donovan."

"Well," I asked somewhat hesitantly, not knowing whether to believe a word of this, "what did you do for the OSS?"

"I was an agent," he explained casually.

"You were a spy?"

Armando shrugged. "I guess you could say that."

ARMANDO & PHILLIP & THE OSS

With the world changing rapidly around us and with war becoming almost commonplace, I remember a conversation from years ago. I'd wandered over to a favorite little town in New Mexico, whose name I won't reveal for fear that the literally dozens of people who read this paper will descend upon the village in monstrous hordes and ruin it. I was standing in front of the country store with my friend Pat Cooke and her 15 year old dog Sue, when two of her pals stopped by for a chat.

Their names were Phillip and Armando and they had driven up from the south to visit. Both gentlemen were in their 60s or early 70s at the time, and Phillip had recently been discharged from the hospital after suffering a serious stroke. For six months he had been unable to speak and some worried that he would never recover. It was apparent, however, that Phillip had indeed recovered, and was making up for lost time. While he shamelessly flirted with both Pat and the dog, his older brother Armando told me his life story. I swear this is what he said. The conversation went something like this...

Stocky and balding with

bushy white sideburns, I wondered

if this man could really have

pal'd around with the likes

of FDR and "Wild Bill."

I decided that I believed

every word he was saying.

I looked at Armando. He barely stood five and a half feet tall. Stocky and balding with bushy white sideburns, I wondered if this man could really have pal'd around with the likes of FDR and "Wild Bill." I decided that I believed every word he was saying.

"So where were you a spy?"

"Those were incredible times. Truly the future of our world was at stake. My partner and I were in pursuit of two German agents who were trying to get diamonds from South Africa to Germany via South America. The Germans needed the diamonds to make diamond bits...it's the only way you can machine parts for weaponry and the like. Do you follow me?"

I nodded.

"We caught up with them in Brazil, near Angel Falls." Armando put his ball cap on and pulled the brim down low over his eyes and looked up at the sky.

"It's going to be another hot day. Too damn hot for September," he observed keenly.

"Yes it is," I said, "but what happened next?"

"What do you mean?"

"The diamonds."

"Oh yes...OK. We had caught up with them in Brazil when they discovered we were following them... They killed my partner."

General William 'Wild Bill' Donovan... director of OSS in World War II

"My brother and I are Basque, you know. We came from the Pyrenees before the second world war," Armando explained.

"Really," I said. "What did you do when you came over here?"

"Well," he replied, "I went to work for the OSS."

I knew what the OSS was—the Office of Strategic Services, the military intelligence agency during World War II. I know my WWII history pretty well, and since I also believe that in my last life I may have been the pilot of a B-24 Liberator in Europe that was shot down over Belgium in August 1944,1 could converse fairly intelligently with him on the subject.

"The OSS?" I said. "Did you ever meet the director, Bill Donovan?"

'"Wild Bill?' Of course...I met with him several times in the President's office."

"The President's office? Which president do you mean?"

"All German spies had a small tattoo under their arm pit with a swastika and a serial number. Before I threw them in the Amazon, I got out my knife and I-"

"OK," I said. "I think I get the picture."

"I think those little patches are still in Washington somewhere. They don't throw anything away in military intelligence."

"No...no," I considered. "I suppose they don't."

Armando gazed down the main street of Pat's little town, a place that has barely changed since he chased Nazis in Brazil. "I was eager to get out of there and back home after all that," he said. "So when those Amazonian women captured me and held me pris-

www.canyoncountryzephyr.com cczephyr@gmail.com

moabzephyr@yahoo .com

All the News that Causes Fits since 1989

(The Future)...that period of time

in which our affairs prosper,

our friends are true,

and our happiness

is assured.

The Zephyr is produced six times a year at various

global locations and made available free to

almost 7 billion people via the world wide web

The opinions expressed herein are not necessarily

those of its advertisers, its Backbone members,

or even at times, of its publisher.

All Cartoons are by the publisher

—Ambrose Bierce

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	"Oh no...so they got away?" "No," he replied grimly. "I killed both of them." He waited for a moment; then he continued. "I killed one of them instantly, and I thought the other was dead too. But I turned my back on him and he shot me with a small gun that he had concealed. So I finished him off. I was seriously wounded, but, obviously, I survived." I didn't know what to think. Just minutes before, Pat and I had been chatting about the weather and the remarkable good health of Sue the Dog. Now my new friend Armando had led me into the dark and violent world of the OSS and the incredible role he played in it. If I could believe him. "Did you recover the diamonds?" I asked finally. "Yes. And then I threw the Germans into the Amazon and fed them to the pirranahs." "Oh," was all I could manage to say. "And can you believe this? The British had a force down there, and when they learned what I had done, they arrested me for desecrating a dead person. Fortunately, Donovan came to my defense and got me off. Besides, I was able to prove that they were Nazi agents." "How did you do that?" I was afraid to ask. cczephyr@gmail.com "Why President Roosevelt's office. You see, Franklin Roosevelt was president during the--" "I know he was president during the war," I interrupted. "You actually met President Roosevelt?" "Yes, of course. He was a great man. Donovan was too...and tough. No man was tougher than Donovan." "Well," I asked somewhat hesitantly, not knowing whether to believe a word of this, "what did you do for the OSS?" "I was an agent," he explained casually. "You were a spy?" Armando shrugged. "I guess you could say that." ARMANDO & PHILLIP & THE OSS With the world changing rapidly around us and with war becoming almost commonplace, I remember a conversation from years ago. I'd wandered over to a favorite little town in New Mexico, whose name I won't reveal for fear that the literally dozens of people who read this paper will descend upon the village in monstrous hordes and ruin it. I was standing in front of the country store with my friend Pat Cooke and her 15 year old dog Sue, when two of her pals stopped by for a chat. Their names were Phillip and Armando and they had driven up from the south to visit. Both gentlemen were in their 60s or early 70s at the time, and Phillip had recently been discharged from the hospital after suffering a serious stroke. For six months he had been unable to speak and some worried that he would never recover. It was apparent, however, that Phillip had indeed recovered, and was making up for lost time. While he shamelessly flirted with both Pat and the dog, his older brother Armando told me his life story. I swear this is what he said. The conversation went something like this... Stocky and balding with bushy white sideburns, I wondered if this man could really have pal'd around with the likes of FDR and "Wild Bill." I decided that I believed every word he was saying. I looked at Armando. He barely stood five and a half feet tall. Stocky and balding with bushy white sideburns, I wondered if this man could really have pal'd around with the likes of FDR and "Wild Bill." I decided that I believed every word he was saying. "So where were you a spy?" "Those were incredible times. Truly the future of our world was at stake. My partner and I were in pursuit of two German agents who were trying to get diamonds from South Africa to Germany via South America. The Germans needed the diamonds to make diamond bits...it's the only way you can machine parts for weaponry and the like. Do you follow me?" I nodded. "We caught up with them in Brazil, near Angel Falls." Armando put his ball cap on and pulled the brim down low over his eyes and looked up at the sky. "It's going to be another hot day. Too damn hot for September," he observed keenly. "Yes it is," I said, "but what happened next?" "What do you mean?" "The diamonds." "Oh yes...OK. We had caught up with them in Brazil when they discovered we were following them... They killed my partner." General William 'Wild Bill' Donovan... director of OSS in World War II "My brother and I are Basque, you know. We came from the Pyrenees before the second world war," Armando explained. "Really," I said. "What did you do when you came over here?" "Well," he replied, "I went to work for the OSS." I knew what the OSS was—the Office of Strategic Services, the military intelligence agency during World War II. I know my WWII history pretty well, and since I also believe that in my last life I may have been the pilot of a B-24 Liberator in Europe that was shot down over Belgium in August 1944,1 could converse fairly intelligently with him on the subject. "The OSS?" I said. "Did you ever meet the director, Bill Donovan?" '"Wild Bill?' Of course...I met with him several times in the President's office." "The President's office? Which president do you mean?" "All German spies had a small tattoo under their arm pit with a swastika and a serial number. Before I threw them in the Amazon, I got out my knife and I-" "OK," I said. "I think I get the picture." "I think those little patches are still in Washington somewhere. They don't throw anything away in military intelligence." "No...no," I considered. "I suppose they don't." Armando gazed down the main street of Pat's little town, a place that has barely changed since he chased Nazis in Brazil. "I was eager to get out of there and back home after all that," he said. "So when those Amazonian women captured me and held me pris- www.canyoncountryzephyr.com cczephyr@gmail.com moabzephyr@yahoo .com All the News that Causes Fits since 1989 (The Future)...that period of time in which our affairs prosper, our friends are true, and our happiness is assured. THE ZEPHYR, copyright 2010 The Zephyr is produced six times a year at various global locations and made available free to almost 7 billion people via the world wide web The opinions expressed herein are not necessarily those of its advertisers, its Backbone members, or even at times, of its publisher. All Cartoons are by the publisher —Ambrose Bierce

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