Along side of these traces of God-likeness, co-exist distorted perceptions resulting from Adama€™s fall.
Be a Moses not just one of the regular guys in the crowd who judge after their natural sight.
This is our online source for great projects and instructional material about Goda€™s visual language.
1 Timothy 4:12 (LB) encourages, a€?Dona€™t let anyone think little of you because you are young. Matthew 18 tells us to admonish a floundering Christian whom wea€™ve seen engaging in ungodly conversation or behavior.
WEAPONS OF CAIN, a memory-vision of Vietnam, is the spellbinding story of Lieutenant Joseph Tompsen, whose tour of duty in Vietnam introduces him to street-wise villagers who become his family and to military cohorts who become his antagonists.
Author Thom Brucie has been called a voice of the unheard because of his ability to reveal the sometimes unheralded beatitudes of fortitude and charity through his stories of the everyday deeds of ordinary lives. War Stories, a collection of short stories written by veterans, touches upon every aspect of military life from hard combat to losing a comrade, to making love after being blown up by a mortar to honoring the war dead to remembering the Indian Wars, WWII, lost loves, and surrender to a medical system that never understands its military patients and yet is designed to serve only them. In BROTHER DIONYSUS, veteran Sean Brendan-Brown explores military life and its aftermath through characters as strangely wrought as those peopling Sherwood Andersona€™s fiction and as real as those portrayed in Raymond Barthesa€™ collection of cultural essays, Mythologies.
In this collection of short stories about veterans who went to war but left without a war story to tell. Explore with Michael Lund the lives of these veterans who discover being in the service is not something to be edited out of a personal history, but an experience that stays in memory, not an ending but the beginning of a measure of peace, no matter how short the stint, or inglorious. This eloquent anthology, carefully stitched together by veteran Richard Epstein, contains poetry, prose, and songs written by 21 Memorial Day Writersa€™ Project participants.
These twenty-one short stories tell of the pioneering of those who came from many countries, many customs, many cultures, and brought much of that mix with them to create the American West as we now know it.
Not since Breece D'JPancake has a writer the likes of Danny Johnson emerged from the South with all the glory and hell of life attached and intact in his fiction.
In Mickey 6, Vietnam Veteran Koelscha€™s carefully wrought characters, torn between duty and personal ethos, tread deeply into the circumstances that force payment of an eternal price from the souls and minds of those who serve, and from those who lead, as they fight for their country. Composed of riffs on the forms of haiku (extended haiku), memoir (micro memoir) and photography (photosculpture), this electronic book is composed of 51 panels grouped in sets of three as 17 triptychs. The 45 poems that compose KOREAN ECHOES draw the reader into piecing together a puzzle, with each poem presenting a small measure of the Korean War soldier's world, a world wholly embedded in the deepest design at the heart of human experience, embedded as if words were shrapnel, steel moments of clarity rendered from language and pounded into consciousness through Tom Sheehan's craftsmanship, each poem a sharpened moment of awareness of all humanity can be, do, and endure, and still love life and living.
In his third espionage thriller, author Dick Reynolds packs the pages with world travel, love, murder and the surreal life of unwilling spy Sandy Gilmartin. As the sun begins to set on the Soviet Union, desperation slowly grips this once great empire's staunchest champions.
Vicky Armstrong, 48-years old, is broke & living in a VW van in California after her husband leaves her for another woman. Dick Reynolds a€?A romantic thriller chockfull of cross-continental challenges to test Averil and Mark Holloway's 10-year marriage.
The complete anthology & workshop memoir as it appeared in print is available as a FREE eBook.
The appearance of hyperlinks or logos does not constitute endorsement of Milspeak, Milspeak Memo, or linked sites, or the information (written and graphic), products, or services contained therein, by the Department of Defense, any other government agency or office.
MILSPEAK FOUNDATION (501c3), foundation programs and publications, do not engage in political activity; however, writers and artists may present political opinions. Still, I was smart - smarter than most white folks down here want a black man to be - and I got my degree.
I started out walking a beat in Algiers, just across the river from the French Quarter, the Vieux Carre. I can’t forget the smell - like gutting time at a Cajun boucherie - the snatches of Voodoo gibberish smeared across the walls in blood.
But he didn't tell me where to find the scum that butchered Celie, because something scared him more.
Still, as I floated in and out of tortured dreams, I remembered the look in Ti' Joe's eyes. Despair is like frostbite - at first it just makes everything numb, saves up all the pain like a debt you can't possibly afford to pay.
Teddy LeDoux's place faced out on an alley near Bourbon Street; Teddy liked to pretend every weekend was Mardi Gras. Papa Jean's address led me to the other side of the Intracoastal - the swampy, desolate outskirts of an immigrant slum called Archahaie. After one of those juice-heads puts you through a wall, you learn to recognize the look… and to fear it.
I stood there, drowning in my own sweat, wondering what the Devil would look like in a dirty black dress.
As soon as the nurse flipped on the lights, I started babbling about Voodoo curses and demon arms.
I checked out at the end of the week despite Doc Timmons' protests and caught a cab out to Archahaie. I came to with the help of Baron Cimiterre's smelling salts: the slaughterhouse stench of blood and bile and exposed viscera. I lay there, trembling in the borrowed clothes of a dead man, staring into the tunnel that joins the evil we live in and the evil that lives in us. As he faces life on deatha€™s terms, one shattering moment will forever change his world and theirs in this novel of loss and redemption. His use of Vietnamese folklore and folk practices embellish the rich descriptions of place to create a setting so full of sensory detail that one feels as if the exotic village of Cam Ranh is located just down the road and around the corner. This anthology, featuring new and previously published fiction, is loaded with the imaginative powers of veterans from every era of war since the Korean War. Brendan-Browna€™s characters navigate the quagmire of life after military service, never failing to make a strong statement about the state of the culture, never failing to find humor in the most mind-boggling situations, and never failing to disappoint readersa€™ desires to know what ita€™s really like to live after going to war. Forty years after their experience, these veterans begin asking if there is something more to say about their military service. Spanning 1993 a€“ 2011, a period in United States history that began in peacetime and has stretched into the longest war fought by the U.S.
Add a measure of Tim O'Brien's stylization of military life and you still have only a glimmer of the storytelling you'll love in the Harry and Bo collection.
With themes applicable to warriors of all eras, Mickey 6 chronicles the struggles of leadership in war, of loss of humanity, and of the enduring spirit of those who must return to life from the ravages of war. To form each triptych, these folding-in-upon-center panels are arranged as two tablets of writing that enclose an image, the inner core, a visual representation of the writera€™s thoughts. KOREAN ECHOES, a poetic testament to the tenacity of the human spirit to survive the killing fields of war through time eternal, presents themes as well known to today's warrior as to the ancient warrior of The Iliad and The Odyssey: the battle to understand war, to achieve reconciliation, and to forgive the enemy and the self.
A momentary encounter with a Norwegian beauty sends Sandy, engineer and reluctant spy, on a journey from the groves of Orange County, California to the snowbanks of Norway.
This is the story of the courageous few who fight to hold off that final sunset, and of the American counter-intelligence operatives who bring the Cold War to end game. As Mark's fascination with his first love leads to an affair, will Averil's love endure Mark's tangled web of deceit?
A great volume (for the living room or the class room) to get the conversation started about the wartime experience and military life. No, the Devil buys on the layaway plan: he trades you a few sins for this piece, a cheap vice for that one, damns you by scraps and slivers.
Their members were mostly refugees from Haiti and Jamaica, with a sprinkling of local talent from the Bayou. We managed to push the psycho bastards back over the river, but we couldn't take the West Bank away from them. I'm a man who knows violence, friend - I grew up with it, learned to use it on the football field, fought against it on the streets of Algiers.
I walked to the seedy parking lot around the corner, already planning the moves in my head. The owner, Jean Ducheval, wasn't exactly a snitch, but he was one of my best sources of information on the Voodoo gangs. He saw the truth: I was not a cop anymore, and I would do anything to get the scum that butchered Celie. At the end of a dead-end gravel road off of Bourresouse, I found a ramshackle hut that matched Papa Jean's description. And a heartbeat - a monstrous heartbeat - like a thousand men pounding on the Petro drums….
When she killed the lights the second time, I pinched my eyes shut, tried to swallow the panic.
The cabby - a Haitian - looked like his eyes were going to bug out of his head when I told him where to turn. I was just drifting off to sleep when the door of the room exploded off its hinges and slammed against the opposite wall. Something black and tarry spattered across the walls, the floor, the ceiling, like engine sludge.
I could see taloned feet, tree-trunk legs, a body covered with hair that wriggled like carrion worms. My sweet Creole princess, chocolate skin wrapped in a gown of milky white, somber face staring down at me from the top of an ebony cliff. Exo 20:4 Thou shalt not make unto thee a graven image, nor any likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth. With selections from 27 authors complemented with art by veteran Robert Wilson, this collection is packed not only with stories that bleed off the page and into your mind, but also with a new understanding of military life for those who have never experienced it.


Not since Raymond Carver has a writer more clearly shared the vagaries, joys, and comedy of human existence, while revealing the salvation in it for us all.
Among other things, they come to appreciate the lovers, friends, and family who helped them shape a new post-war identity.
Will drifting into a life of espionage and romance lead Sandy to the secret of becoming the hero of his own life? Content on these pages represents thoughts and opinions of the writers & artists, and not the official position of MilSpeak Foundation, its directors or of any other person, organization or institution. By the time he holds the pink slip and consigns your sorry ass to Eternal Flame, you don't even know what happened, or how. Made second-team all-American as a sophomore, had the NFL scouts drooling all over themselves. They spread a crazy fever through the streets, more like cults than gangs: Secte Rouge, Cochon Gris, Vinbrindingue, Bissage. The Voodoo gangs packed a higher caliber of fear than I've ever seen - you could feel it crackle in the air all over Algiers, juicing your nerves. The stink of the place nearly made me gag - rotting chicken guts, fermented blood, other smells I couldn't name and didn't want to. The doc said it was a miracle I hadn't bled to death, said it looked like the wound had been cauterized with a blowtorch. I figured it was the mambo's idea of a joke, but I parked across from the place and waited. By the time that grinning piece of shit realized he'd lit the wrong fuse, it was too late for all of us. It looked like somebody had painted that whole room with the Cochon Gris and used Vixama's gizzard for a brush. I jerked the Beretta out from under the pillow and pointed it at the doorway, figuring the Gris had found me.
He trades you a few sins for this piece, a cheap vice for that one, damns you by scraps and slivers. Find out in this romp of a novel that will feed your need for more Scandinavian adventure if you love The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo trilogy. Revisit the Korean War and Vietnam War on your way to Gulf Wars in memoir written by those who have lived the military life. Figured I'd go hardship after my junior year, pick up a cool million in signing bonuses, maybe more. God, she was one fine Creole woman - skin as smooth and sweet as milk chocolate, eyes as wet and wide as Lake Pontchartrain. The rest is lost in fog, except for glimpses that sometimes leap out of the darkness and rip another chunk out of my soul before I can kick them back into the shadows. I also knew he had a punk named Ti' Joe in one of the cages, a street soldier for the Cochon Gris. Teddy gave me a spare key to his place and fumbled through a few awkward words of sympathy before he made his escape. The midday sun beat down so fierce that it boiled clouds of vapor out of the steamy marsh beyond the graveyard… but that place still made me shiver, friend. It was huge and shapeless and impossibly black - a hole torn out of the daylight straight into the bottom of a Bayou swamp. I slipped out the side exit, tossed the suitcase in the trunk of the Buick, and got out of there as fast as I could. I propped my head on a pillow that smelled like somebody’s old socks and planned my getaway. Something slithered through the doorway where the mambo had been: a featureless blob, black on black.
Harmony, balance, cohesiveness, dissonance, resolve, movement, intensity, repose and every other conceivable principle of composition are inherent in creation.
Travel through Norway, China, and California with author Dick Reynolds, world traveler and mountain climber, who puts his all into every scene, every twist of plot, and every moment of guilty romantic pleasure. Then that lard-ass hillbilly tackle blind-sides me in the Georgia game, and my knee is gone. I played hard and clean, never touched a payoff… but if the rules got in the way of a good bust, I bent them. They even stirred things up in the Quarter… and the Mayor won't stand for anybody screwing with the tourists. Nothing obvious… but good vice cops develop an instinct for trouble, or they become dead vice cops. A street cop sees so much human ugliness that the outer layer of his skin hardens into this armor-plated shell that shields him from the madness he has to wade through every day.
I'd broken three of his ribs, shattered his right arm in two places, turned that mocking grin into bloody mush.
I sat there with my head in my hands, afraid to move… afraid that I would blow away like smoke. I dug around in the trunk of the Buick and pulled out the Beretta hidden in the spare tire. He was the blackest black man I’ve ever seen, maybe because I always saw him in baggy white pants, a baggy white pullover, and a battered white fedora. Weird symbols littered the walls, along with newspaper photos of ritual gang murders clipped from the Times-Picayune: Mama Lucille’s shrine to mayhem, New Orleans style. I just wanted out of there, just wanted to put some miles between me and Mama Lucille's Voodoo Kitchen. The muffled glow of street lamps streamed through the curtains, filled the room with ugly shadows. I had this nightmare vision of my own bloody arm lunging out of the darkness to strangle me, but the place was deserted. A couple of other punks sat behind what looked like an embalming table, counting out stacks of hundred dollar bills from a leather suitcase. The last thing I noticed was the embalming table, the leather suitcase filled with more cash than I would earn in a lifetime. I couldn't go home, couldn't go to Teddy's - I didn't want to go anyplace the cops or the Gris might find me.
Mama Lucille stood there, wearing the same dirty black dress, leering at me like a sooty skull. I stared into a hole chewed through the skin of the world I knew into a shadow world where demons prowl the savage jungles hunting for wayward souls, where dark magic falls from the sky like poisoned rain. She has a contract with the Secte Rouge to take out the Gris; to take out all the competition, eventually. Leviticus 5:1 plainly states that a€?If a person sins because he does not speak up when he hears a public charge to testify regarding something he has seen or learned about, he will be held responsible.a€? Ouch! Ti' Joe had a private cell, because the Voodoo punks scared the shit out of the regular low-lifes. On the streets they say the Voodoo punks are immune to fear, but I saw terror in Ti' Joe's eyes. A short, plump mulatto woman with coarse gray hair and a dirty, sweat-stained black dress opened it.
I glanced down at the place where I could feel my phantom arm resting on the bed, burning with invisible fire. I tightened my grip on the Beretta and slipped across the street, followed the casket delivery boys through the side entrance. I drove around until I found a crumbling flophouse between a strip joint and a Cajun diner on Ascon.
What's left will drip down through that black tunnel into the world he sees in nightmares… into a place he doesn't ever want to be.
Maybe there's still time for you to buy it back the same way: with one tiny act of penance at a time. I stuck it in my pocket and steered into the crush of traffic crawling across the bridge into Algiers.
Papa Jean was one of the good guys in Algiers: always helping the ones who needed help the most, trying to keep the kids out of trouble. A casket that size could probably hold a hundred kilos of junk, maybe more, worth a king's ransom on the streets. I saw every nightmare that had ever devoured my sleep - my private horde of horrors snarling and slobbering at the gates of their unnatural habitat. The Voodoo gangs have some nasty magic of their own, but they never think to use it on a crippled ex-cop who can't do shit. Exo 20:12 Honor thy father and thy mother, that thy days may be long in the land which Jehovah thy God giveth thee. THESE VERY SAME ENFORCEMENT AGENCIES, WHO HAVE SWORN TO PROTECT AND SERVE, OUR COUNTRY, AND CITIZENS ,ARE BUT SOME, OF THE CORRUPT,GREEDY TRAITORS .ENGAGED IN THE TYRANNY AND TORTURE. A lot of the boys at the Precinct House bought into it, especially the ones who grew up around the Bayou. The righteous part of Lucius Freeman - the part that laughed at Teddy's lame jokes, that slid a few bucks to homeless bums instead of busting them, that made sweet love to his sweet woman after a fourteen-hour shift when he was almost too tired to move - that part just spilled out of the wreckage and turned to dust. The stink of him… denim marinated in sweat, like the fur of some sickly animal, wrapped in the ghostly scent of ganja. I couldn't go home - couldn't sleep in that house ever again - so Teddy took me in at his place. They had that crazy, invincible glow you see on a junkie's face when he's dropped some PCP.


The crematorium would give the Gris an easy way to dispose of enemies - the parts they didn't eat. If I could waste Vixama - the mastermind behind most of the horror in Algiers - that would be revenge enough. Before they know different, they wind up looking like a spilled vat of bloody gumbo - Mama's special recipe.
New Orleans doesn't just sing, friend: it jitters and jives and wails like a wild animal that can't be caged. That night, I huddled on Teddy's lumpy couch and suffered through nightmares that refused to end… nightmares that would never end. I paid for the room with a twenty, pretended not to notice while the clerk stared at my vacant sleeve.
The siren in my head screaming now, but my heart thumping louder, pounding out one frantic thought.
The Cochon Gris had stolen everything: my wife and my job, the two things I loved in this world.
I felt, I heard the brittle crack of bone, the sharp twang of snapping sinews, the meaty rip of muscle tearing like soggy paper. I figured I'd stop by the house in the morning and pick up my passport, then take a drive out to Moisant and catch a flight to Mexico City. She laughed while it crushed the life out of her, cackled while it plucked off her arms and legs like the wings off a mutant moth.
The stolen arm of the loa wrapped me in a tentacle of fire, lifted me above the bed, hurled me across the room.
Exo 20:17 Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's house, thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife, nor his man-servant, nor his maid-servant, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor anything that is thy neighbor's.
Exo 20:21 And the people stood afar off, and Moses drew near unto the thick darkness where God was. Exo 20:22 And Jehovah said unto Moses, Thus thou shalt say unto the children of Israel, Ye yourselves have seen that I have talked with you from heaven. Exo 20:26 Neither shalt thou go up by steps unto mine altar, that thy nakedness be not uncovered thereon. Mat 5:11 Blessed are ye when men shall reproach you, and persecute you, and say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake. Mat 5:13 Ye are the salt of the earth: but if the salt have lost its savor, wherewith shall it be salted? Mat 5:18 For verily I say unto you, Till heaven and earth pass away, one jot or one tittle shall in no wise pass away from the law, till all things be accomplished. Mat 5:20 For I say unto you, that except your righteousness shall exceed the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees, ye shall in no wise enter into the kingdom of heaven.
Mat 5:26 Verily I say unto thee, thou shalt by no means come out thence, till thou have paid the last farthing. Mat 5:36 Neither shalt thou swear by thy head, for thou canst not make one hair white or black. The school district has moved to a biometric identification program, saying students will no longer have to use an ID card to buy lunch.A  BIOMETRICS TO TRACK YOUR KIDS!!!!!i»?i»?A TARGETED INDIVIDUALS, THE GREEDY CRIMINALS ARE NOW CONDONING THEIR TECH! Mat 5:40 And if any man would go to law with thee, and take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak also. Mat 5:42 Give to him that asketh thee, and from him that would borrow of thee turn not thou away. Paul Weindling, history of medicine professor at Oxford Brookes University, describes his search for the lost victims of Nazi experiments. The chairman of the board at ESL a€” then proprietor of the desert wasteland in Nevada known as a€?Area 51a€? a€” was William Perry, who would be appointed secretary of defense several years later.
EUCACH.ORG PanelIn a 2-hour wide-ranging Panel with Alfred Lambremont Webre on the Transhumanist Agenda, Magnus Olsson, Dr. Henning Witte, and Melanie Vritschan, three experts from the European Coalition Against Covert Harassment, revealed recent technological advances in human robotization and nano implant technologies, and an acceleration of what Melanie Vritschan characterized as a a€?global enslavement programa€?.Shift from electromagnetic to scalar wavesThese technologies have now shifted from electromagnetic wave to scalar waves and use super quantum computers in the quantum cloud to control a€?pipesa€? a reference to the brains of humans that have been taken over via DNA, via implants that can be breathed can breach the blood-brain barrier and then controlled via scalar waved on a super-grid.
Eventually, such 'subvocal speech' systems could be used in spacesuits, in noisy places like airport towers to capture air-traffic controller commands, or even in traditional voice-recognition programs to increase accuracy, according to NASA scientists."What is analyzed is silent, or sub auditory, speech, such as when a person silently reads or talks to himself," said Chuck Jorgensen, a scientist whose team is developing silent, subvocal speech recognition at NASA Ames Research Center in California's Silicon Valley. We numbered the columns and rows, and we could identify each letter with a pair of single-digit numbers," Jorgensen said. People in noisy conditions could use the system when privacy is needed, such as during telephone conversations on buses or trains, according to scientists."An expanded muscle-control system could help injured astronauts control machines.
If an astronaut is suffering from muscle weakness due to a long stint in microgravity, the astronaut could send signals to software that would assist with landings on Mars or the Earth, for example," Jorgensen explained. These are processed to remove noise, and then we process them to see useful parts of the signals to show one word from another," Jorgensen said.After the signals are amplified, computer software 'reads' the signals to recognize each word and sound.
Our Research and Development Division has been in contact with the Federal Bureau of Prisons, the California Department of Corrections, the Texas Department of Public Safety, and the Massachusetts Department of Correction to run limited trials of the 2020 neural chip implant. We have established representatives of our interests in both management and institutional level positions within these departments.
Federal regulations do not yet permit testing of implants on prisoners, but we have entered nto contractual agreements with privatized health care professionals and specified correctional personnel to do limited testing of our products. We need, however, to expand our testing to research how effective the 2020 neural chip implant performs in those identified as the most aggressive in our society. In California, several prisoners were identified as members of the security threat group, EME, or Mexican Mafia. They were brought to the health services unit at Pelican Bay and tranquilized with advanced sedatives developed by our Cambridge,Massachussetts laboratories. The results of implants on 8 prisoners yielded the following results: a€?Implants served as surveillance monitoring device for threat group activity. However, during that period substantial data was gathered by our research and development team which suggests that the implants exceed expected results. One of the major concerns of Security and the R & D team was that the test subject would discover the chemial imbalance during the initial adjustment period and the test would have to be scurbbed. However, due to advanced technological developments in the sedatives administered, the 48 hour adjustment period can be attributed t prescription medication given to the test subjects after the implant procedure. One of the concerns raised by R & D was the cause of the bleeding and how to eliminate that problem.
Unexplained bleeding might cause the subject to inquire further about his "routine" visit to the infirmary or health care facility. Security officials now know several strategies employed by the EME that facilitate the transmission of illegal drugs and weapons into their correctional facilities. One intelligence officier remarked that while they cannot use the informaiton that have in a court of law that they now know who to watch and what outside "connections" they have. The prison at Soledad is now considering transferring three subjects to Vacaville wher we have ongoing implant reserach. Our technicians have promised that they can do three 2020 neural chip implants in less than an hour. Soledad officials hope to collect information from the trio to bring a 14 month investigation into drug trafficking by correctional officers to a close. Essentially, the implants make the unsuspecting prisoner a walking-talking recorder of every event he comes into contact with.
There are only five intelligence officers and the Commisoner of Corrections who actually know the full scope of the implant testing. In Massachusetts, the Department of Corrections has already entered into high level discussion about releasing certain offenders to the community with the 2020 neural chip implants. Our people are not altogether against the idea, however, attorneys for Intelli-Connection have advised against implant technology outside strick control settings.
While we have a strong lobby in the Congress and various state legislatures favoring our product, we must proceed with the utmost caution on uncontrolled use of the 2020 neural chip. If the chip were discovered in use not authorized by law and the procedure traced to us we could not endure for long the resulting publicity and liability payments. Massachusetts officials have developed an intelligence branch from their Fugitive Task Force Squad that would do limited test runs under tight controls with the pre-release subjects.
Correctons officials have dubbed these poetnetial test subjects "the insurance group." (the name derives from the concept that the 2020 implant insures compliance with the law and allows officials to detect misconduct or violations without question) A retired police detective from Charlestown, Massachusetts, now with the intelligence unit has asked us to consider using the 2020 neural chip on hard core felons suspected of bank and armored car robbery. He stated, "Charlestown would never be the same, we'd finally know what was happening before they knew what was happening." We will continue to explore community uses of the 2020 chip, but our company rep will be attached to all law enforcement operations with an extraction crrew that can be on-site in 2 hours from anywhere at anytime. We have an Intelli-Connection discussion group who is meeting with the Director of Security at Florence, Colorado's federal super maximum security unit.
The initial discussions with the Director have been promising and we hope to have an R & D unit at this important facilitly within the next six months. Napolitano insisted that the department was not planning on engaging in any form of ideological profiling. I will tell him face-to-face that we honor veterans at DHS and employ thousands across the department, up to and including the Deputy Secretary," Ms. Steve Buyer of Indiana, the ranking Republican on the House Committee on Veterans' Affairs, called it "inconceivable" that the Obama administration would categorize veterans as a potential threat.



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