Covenant Betrayed: Revelations of the Sixties, the Best of Time; the Worst of Time
Book Three: Covenant Betrayed
by
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Jim rested. He heart pounded. He was high in the wooded hills and a long ways off, in the valley below, he could still see the flashing red lights reflect against the rolling hills. He shuddered and shivered in his wet clothes, now frozen stiff. His teeth chattered. He wished that he planned this better, with warm clothes, food, but he had to take the opportunity he had. A slight sleet began to fall again, the temperature dropped. He knew that he was in big trouble. He couldn’t go back down, and to go forward was the only direction aff orded him. They would surely shoot first and ask questions later, he surmised.
As he caught his breath, and listened, he heard dogs barking. At first he thought they were farm dogs, but then realized that now he had to contend with snarling snapping hungry dogs chasing him into the ground. He turned around, trudged forward, feeling better and warmer once he got moving again.
Someone fired a rifle shot which
“Damnit...Damnit who fired that” shouted Detective Price, organizing the search.
“Someone thought they saw something,” someone yelled.
“Damnit...tell’em to cool it. ‘can’t see a thing, someone’s gonna get shot.”
Elmer McLeary wrestled with the dogs, three of them, barking, snarling, and snapping and waiting to tear loose but held only by the reigns.
“Dumb shits, stop it,” he kicked one of the dog who snarled and snapped at Elmer as he tried to kick him the dog again, who this time yelped and cowered when Elmer hit his mark.
“Chief...Chief, the dogs are ready to go,”
he shouted,” ‘let’em loose?”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute...Damnit, calm those dogs down. Price yelled.
Elmer had gave them a smell of one of Jim’s old shirts and they growled to a hungry frenzy, fighting over the shirt, ripping and tearing at it with their teeth.
“Mean sons of bitches,” one cop commented, as the sleet turned to snow, “damn, it’s getting cold out here, what’s the temp?”
Someone yelled, “down to 28, and the winds picking up. Blizzard warnings are out.”
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About the Book
One can not understand the Sixties without understanding the Fifties. The Fifties were the first time the American youth had excess freedom. Before the 50’s they worked on the family farm; dusk till dawn, slaved in the sweat shops, 12 ours a day, six days a week; starved in the depression; and fought not knowing it they would be alive the next day in World War II and the Korean War. Than, suddenly, came the fifties. First there were the beatniks lead by their spiritual leader Williams Burrough, than the “bad boys of rock and roll Elvis, Johnny Cochran, and Jerry Lee Lewis prevailed. This excess freedom, led to freedom to think, freedom to question, freedom to challenge. In the sixties, the peaceful non-violent Civil Rights Movement, progressed to the Black Power and the Black Panthers. The Civil Rights Movement was followed by the creeping involvement in Vietnam, first with military advisors, than massive troop deployments to Vietnam resulting in death, violence, destruction, and … then disillusion. And complementing the war, initially, the educational teach-ins led to massive antiwar demonstrations, to the Weathermen busting windows on Michigan Ave and planting bombs in the Capital. This all digressed to the “second civil war” which recently resurfaced with the Iraq War, I afraid now is progressing to the “third civil war”. Throughout the book we follow the characters lives from romantic innocence to reality to Expressionism. Some fighting in Vietnam, some protesting the war, some marching for civil rights, friendships destroyed and than repaired. Some lives lost, some destroyed, some survived, but all caught up in the hubris characterized by a gross failure of governmental leadership. Those betrayed the most have their names on a black gra nite wall in Washington DC.
About the Author
Mark Dahl, Kansan born and raised in