The Die is Cast
                                                         by David Maccabbee
  Alea Iacta Est
  There are a number of places in everyone's lives where they come to lines drawn in the sand.
   These are places where if you cross that line, your life will be forever changed. Many years ago
   Julius Caesar marched an army out of Italy to fight the Gauls, the most dangerous enemy of the
   Romans. He fought and won many battles before returning to Italy. His army was nearing the
   Italian border when the Senate began to be afraid of Caesar's popularity. They asked him to
   disband his army before he crossed the Rubicon, which dishonored him and his entire army. It
   was their right to have a victory parade, and this was a deadly insult. Julius Caesar stepped into
   the Rubicon and said ALEA IACIA EST -- the die is cast -- I will bring this army to Rome with
   the honor it has earned, and they can do as they wish.
  This ignited a civil war, in which Caesar came to power as the ruler of the mighty Roman empire.
   In time, the term "crossing the Rubican" came to mean to cross the point of no return.
  Today I have reached my Rubicon, and I have a decision to make. My name is Daniel T.
   Williams, a born-again Christian. I am a dedicated Pro-lifer who has been sidewalk counseling,
   picketing and rescuing. Today a bill known as the F.A.C.E. bill was passed, making it a felony to
   do a peaceful sit-in rescue, along with other non-violent protest activities. I looked at this line
   drawn in the sand, drawn farther than the last, and saw my line of retreat, and cried NO MORE!
   I was tired of the slaughter of the babies, and the unfair treatment of peaceful protesters. I did not
   walk across the line: I jumped! I realized the truth of Kennedy's statement that "When you make
   peaceful protest impossible, violent actions will follow", so I stepped forward and joined the
   growing ranks of the Army of God.
  I immediately went to my computer and hooked up into the internet. I was awash with information
   with which destruction and warfare could be wreaked and waged by an individual. The Anarchist
   Cookbook was one of many available titles into which I dove, my mind a clean slate to be written
   upon.
  I would often test my experiments miles away from civilization, in the wooded wilderness. I tested
   home-made grenades, rockets and launchers, bombs of many sizes, shapes, and ingredients. I
   target practiced with hand guns and rifles. I spent a full year in this school of warfare, preparing
   my mind and body by exercise. I lifted weights, learned boxing, Akito, Tai-chi, and jogged endless
   miles. I felt I would be ready to launch my first assault at midnight of January 22nd, the date of
   the infamous Roe v. Wade decision.
  Texas is my home state, so I wanted to start there to engage the enemy. I had compiled a list of
   100 clinics across the state, along with photos of the buildings, detailed maps of routes and
   alternate routes, and of hiding places should I be pursued.
  I bought a plumbing van, and wrote a non-existent company's name on the side. With this disguise,
   I could carry lots of pipes and pipe parts used in my weapons of warfare, and no one but an
   expert could tell what I was doing.
  On January 21st, I woke up and mentally went over my check list one more time before I left
   what had been my home for the last time. I checked my money, and saw I had $300,000 in cash
   stashed in a duffel bag. I had mortgaged my house for 100% of its value, sold everything I owned,
   and had drained my bank accounts. Once on this road, I knew there would be no turning back.
  I loaded my last few possessions into the van and drove off into the beginning of my new life as a
   soldier. I drove south from Houston, my home, and headed South towards the first in a long list of
   targets on my way to the future.
  I arrived in the small town where the first two mills were located, at 6:00 PM in the afternoon. I
   drove by both sites to get a good look at them. One was fairly isolated, while the other was smack
   in the middle of a residential area nestled between two houses. It was as if the owners were
   trying to hide their grisly business behind a beautiful facade of landscaping and architecture.
  I made some mental notes as I drove by them both a second time. I found a parking space on a
   bluff overlooking the Gulf of Mexico. I listened to a Carmen tape while I relaxed and waited.
  I had the perfect seat for the most spectacular sunset I have ever seen. The clouds formed into a
   giant eagle that stretched across the sky. The body was a beautiful purple. The head and tail were
   white clouds, and the sun was blazing through the eagle's eye. It took my breath away. I watched
   as it shifted and faded into the darkness of night.
  At 11:30 I turned the key and drove to the Planned Barrenhood Mill. I parked in the parking lot at
   a bar directly behind the mill, and grabbed my gear. I took two five gallon buckets of home-made
   napalm that I had learned how to make on the Net, as well as a backpack full of gear. I looked
   around carefully before crossing the parking lot to the back of the mill.
  I climbed up on a dumpster and then on to the roof, where I waited a few minutes for the roaring
   of my heart to subside. I then grabbed the flat crowbar and began to pry off shingles. Once I had
   cleared a large enough spot, I took out a few nails from the corner of a piece of fiberboard that
   made up the roof. I drilled a small hole and used a power cutter to cut a 3' x 3' hole in the roof.
  I cleared off the insulation and climbed into the attic. I quickly found the fold-down ladder and
   climbed down into the building itself. I looked around and started emptying all of the files into a
   large pile in the center of the room, along with anything that might have been flammable. I poured
   the napalm mixture onto the pile, and all over the room. The napalm was made by dissolving
   styrofoam into gasoline, producing a sticky mix that burned like crazy and was really hard to put
   out. I opened the door and the alarm went off, as I struck the highway flare and threw it into the
   pile. There was a bright light, and I was picked up as if by a giant hand and carried across the
   parking lot, and dumped into the fence with a thump!
  I shook my head, to get my bearings, and hopped the fence. I turned to look at the inferno as
   many people came out to view the commotion. I acted like another spectator, and made my way
   back to the van.
  I drove to the next spot. I pulled up briefly outside, and grabbed three of my incendiary bombs,
   which burned like crazy but did not blow up.
  As I ran up to the building, I pulled the pin of one after another of the devices, throwing two
   through a plate glass window on the first floor, and the other through the second story window.
   The alarms kicked on, adding to the din of shattering glass, as I jumped into the van and drove off.
  I hit and destroyed seven other mills before arriving at the fortress with dawn less than an hour
   away. The fortress, as I called it, was a Planned Barrenhood near Houston that covered almost
   an entire block. I pulled into a business that was closed for the night, and began to prepare for the
   assault. First I would have to take out a steel reinforced gate which I would hit with a home-made
   rocket launcher. Then I would do as much damage as I could with what I had before I left.
  I shouldered the launcher, after strapping on all of the remaining bombs, except for one which I
   tucked into my backpack. I took aim at the gate, around 300 feet away, and launched. As soon as
   it launched, I jumped in the van and drove through the mangled remains of the gate. I got out and
   in rapid fire fashion, fired off seven more of the rockets, knocking large gaping holes in the walls
   of the structure. I then drove into one of the holes, and prepared to set the largest bomb of them
   all. I ran in and threw all the explosives I had strapped on, and then set a timer on the four
   five gallon barrels of home-made C-4 and trotted off.
  Trotting along the sidewalk outside the fence, a police car pulled up beside me from behind. I was
   blinded by its spotlight in my face. Stunned, I stood there while a voice shouted for me to hit the
   dirt and stretch my arms over my head, and spread my feet out. I slowly complied, and was soon
   lying, spead-eagled, on the sidewalk.
  I watched the officer open the door, gun in hand, aimed right at my heart. As he stepped out of
   the car, an evil grin split his face, as he began calling me all sorts of blasphemies. He said he was
   going to shoot me and rid the world of a terrorist. He adjusted his arm and cocked the trigger,
   moving his arm to aim at my head.
  At that moment a bright light shone, and a gust of air picked the officer up and blew him at a
   frightening speed into a tree, where I heard a terrible snapping and popping sound. Then the
   darkness was gone, replaced by light like mid-day sunlight. Then the explosion came. All I heard
   was a thump and a ringing sound. Huge chunks of concrete rained down. A chest-sized piece
   landed on my leg as I watched.
  I woke up some time later in an operating room with people working furiously. One noticed me
   looking and said something. A ring of oval faces peeped intently at me, puzzled, as one clamped a
   mask over my face. I sank back into darkness, fighting it like a drowning man. I woke up later
   with no idea of how much time had passed, or where I was. I saw my leg in a full cast all the way
   up to my upper thigh, and smaller bandages all over. There was a cast on my hand, and my ribs
   were wrapped up in some sort of banding. My head felt funny, so I reached up my free hand and
   felt a bandage wrapped around my head like a turban, with extra padding over my ears. I couldn't
   hear a thing but that blasted ringing noise. I felt no pain. In fact, I felt like I was floating on a
   cloud. I knew this would soon pass, and reality and pain would soon set in. So I rested and looked
   in amazement at all the tubes, wires, and other gadgets going to and from my body, and imagined
   all the beeping and whirling noises they should be making.
  Then out of nowhere appeared the face of an angel hovering in the misty light. She looked me in
   the face, and appeared startled and concerned all at once. Then her face lit up like a sunrise. She
   smiled. Her eyes twinkled merrily.
  She started to say something, and then stopped, with an embarrassed look spreading across her
   face. Instead, she waved at me.
  She disappeared, and was soon replaced with a room full of people. I was poked and prodded,
   while one man with an air of authority pulled out a pen and pad of paper. He started writing, but
   as I watched, everything began to fade away. Darkness swallowed me whole.
  I woke up, what seemed to be only minutes later. The first thing I noticed was that the cast was
   gone, along with all the wires holding the cast up. The bandages were smaller. I was still hooked
   up to a bunch of hoses and machines that flashed and shone with little lights. I still couldn't hear
   anything but ringing bells. It finally hit me that I had my hearing damaged during the, the, wait a
   minute -- what had happened? I couldn't remember! As I looked around, I tried to sit up, but could
   barely stir. As I struggled, a light began to flash, and several people came rushing into the room.
  One looked like a doctor. The others looked like orderlies and nurses. The doctor had a pad of
   paper. He said something to those present, and instantly two of them had my bed moved to an
   inclined position.
  One then placed a tray on a mechanical arm across in front of me. The doctor placed a pad of
   paper and a pen on it. He leaned against a table nearby, and started writing. He turned and
   walked to my bed, lifting and showing me what he had written.
  It was bad news. My eardrums had been popped by the explosion, and I was now 100% deaf.
   This news hit me like a sledgehammer. I shouted "NO!" But I couldn't hear, to tell if it was above
   a whisper. He next asked me my name and address. He asked if I knew the date. I picked up the
   pad and paper, but all I managed to do was make some squiggles before the pen fell out of my
   hand. I felt as weak as a tiny kitten, so I shook my head "no" as he pointed to each question.
  I did not even know where I was. The doctor wrote for me to rest, as a nurse hooked up
   something into an IV bottle. Sleep covered me like a blanket, and I snuggled in, happily.
  During my next few weeks I had a lot of catching up to do. I had been in a coma for three years!
   I found out that I was a suspect in a bombing. This explained why I had a handcuff and leg
   manacle on when I woke up again. I still could not remember who I was, or what had happened
   to me, to bring me to the hospital.
  I began excruciatingly painful muscle therapy. I also began to learn a new language -- sign
   language. You speak by using your hands. I had many interviews with people from the police, FBI,
   BATF, as well as fire investigators. All of which were very suspicious of, and then frustrated
   with, my amnesia. My doctor had to get tough several times when the interrogators started to get
   out of hand.
  I began to enjoy interacting with the staff at the St. Francis Medical Center, the hospital into
   which the Lord saw fit to deliver me. I spent many hours talking to the chaplain, who was a very
   interesting person. He was a Catholic, but he was a charismatic Catholic who believed that you
   need to repent and be born again to be saved. Brother John was a monk with a beautiful
   hand-made cross on a necklace. His nickname was Brother John of the Cross. He had come to
   the hospital from a monastery in New York, after being asked to leave because of his unorthodox
   beliefs. He had been very active in the Pro-life movement and still had many contacts. He had
   answered the Lord's call to come to this hospital and had been there for almost 3 years.
  He would hobble in at any time (he had a bad limp and a speech impediment caused by some
   disease unknown to doctors) and brighten my days, which could be terribly painful due to the
   therapy.
  I was surprised how much had changed. It was funny that I could remember some things with
   stark clarity, while other things were a black hole. In the news, I saw a story of a Pro-lifer in a
   group called the Army of God. The minister named Paul Hill had been secretly executed that
   night to avoid protests. This brought an unexpectedly large storm of protest and anger. There was
   an emergency meeting at the state capitol, where politicians discussed the anger of Christians and
   Pro-life activists. No details were given about their decisions, but a date was set for a complete
   press release.
  I was informed that I was being charged with multiple counts of arson and one count of
   manslaughter. Another officer was added to watch over me as I recovered.
Weeks passed, and I was shocked as I watched the news. The state government had abolished
   abortion, euthanasia, and sex education! Anyone found guilty of the first two would be charged
   with first degree murder and would, if found guilty, be given the death penalty.
  A struggle erupted between the state and federal government. The feds threatened to stop
   sending highway and medicare funds as punishment. The governor said "Fine! You keep your
   federal funds, and we will keep the federal taxes we used to send you!"
  The feds, undaunted, upped the ante. They said they were going to send federal agents and
   BATF personnel to keep the murder mills open. That was the straw that broke the camel's back.
  There was an all night session, and in the morning they threw down the gauntlet. Texas seceded
   from the United States and re-formed as the Republic of Texas, just as it had once been. The
   Bonnie Blue, which had flown as the national flag, was returned. The national guard was called to
   active duty as the "Army of the Republic". I watched with amazement.
  I was most surprised when the former Lt. Governor, now Vice President, came to present me
   with a full pardon. It was to be kept quiet, but I was a free man. I was visited by a group of
   people, about 16 in number, who called themselves the Rescue Platoon. They prayed over me,
   and kept me company.
  The next day I felt awful. The doctor said I had a severe infection dangerously close to my heart.
   I was injected and prepared for surgery. I drifted off to sleep, and woke to see the face of my
   Lord and Savior.
  As I looked into that wonderful face, and saw His scars, His eyes bore into my soul as he said to
   me, "well done, my good and faithful servant! Enter into the rest of the Lord!" There were angels
   singing. I joined in the chorus, and knelt before the King!

  David Maccabbee

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Numbers 35:33 So ye shall not pollute the land wherein ye are:
for blood it defileth the land: and the land cannot be cleansed of the
blood that is shed therein, but by the blood of him that shed it.

Hebrews 12:29 For our God is a consuming fire.
  To contact e-mail: Glory2Jesus@ArmyofGod.com
  Telephone 1-757-685-1566
  Or write to: Rev. Donald Spitz
                        Pro-Life Virginia
                        P.O. Box 16611
                        Chesapeake VA 23328