by Bishop Taylor
Let me tell you a true story.
There was once a young man who joined the United States military. He excelled. Became an Airborne Ranger. Pushed himself harder than the rest. His mind was sharp. His memory was eidetic. He could read a map once and draw it back from memory. People noticed.
He was recruited into the Defense Intelligence Agency. Transferred to Camp Perry in Virginia. They call it the Swamp. There, they trained him for something more. Not just war. Analysis. Strategy. Human intelligence. His mind became his weapon.
He was deployed to Amman, Jordan. He saw Arafat. He was told to hate him. But he didn’t. He looked at the man and saw a human being. Not a threat. Not a caricature. Just a man trying to lead his people. That confused his handlers.
Later, the young man was sent to Israel. Trained with the IDF. Worked with them daily. It was called anti-terrorism training. But what he saw was not defense. It was cruelty.
He watched as Israeli soldiers mocked Palestinians. Punched them. Beat them. Laughed at them like they were insects. Power drunk bullies with rifles and permission. He watched them abuse people for sport.
He felt sick.
One day he snapped. He told them, “If you mistreat another human being in front of me, I’ll rip your fucking head off and shit down your fucking neck.”
That got back to his American superiors.
He was a sergeant then. His captain called him in and told him he was a disruptive force. Said you cannot threaten foreign governments, even when they beat civilians. He was told to return to his IDF detail.
Back in Israel, it got worse.
One day, a group of Israeli Jews began throwing rocks at Christian Palestinians. The IDF did nothing. Just watched. Like it was a sport.
That same ranger picked up rocks and threw them right back. He hit them. In the head. In the face. And then he ordered his squad to do the same.
They did.
They were Rangers. They were Americans. And they still had a soul.
He was immediately pulled out of Israel. Given an Article 15. Had to report to a colonel at Fort Benning. Was scolded. Punished. Told he would never work for the DIA again. Forced to go through cadre school. Made into a drill sergeant.
The DIA called him back anyway. One more chance. Obey, they said.
He told the DIA in October 1991 to go fuck itself.
He walked away with an honorable discharge. After serving in two wars. Operation Just Cause. Operation Desert Storm.
But what he would not do—what he could never do—was obey an order to harm innocent people. Not in the name of America. Not in the name of God. Not for anyone.
He refused orders in Panama. He refused to take the anthrax vaccine. Convinced his squad not to take it either. None of them got Gulf War Syndrome. He never got sick. But the ones who did take the shot? They suffered. The VA never helped them.
Later, the FBI came for him. In Norfolk, Virginia. Quietly arrested him. Tried to silence him. Because he had told the truth about Panama. About how the United States military took thousands of people to a soccer stadium. Held them there. Two days later, they were gone. Bulldozers were parked behind the stadium.
In 2005, they found mass graves in that same location.
The CIA and its collaborators committed mass murder. And the world looked away.
That young ranger never did. He still talks to his old squad. They live with the pain. They live with the guilt. They watch as America slides deeper into darkness. Into war. Into lies. Into silence.
They watched the flag-draped coffins come back from Iraq. From Afghanistan. From wars they knew were bullshit.
Wars fought for empire. For oil. For Israel.
That ranger was never anti-Semitic. He was anti-bully. Anti-hate. Anti-lie.
He was pro-love. Pro-human. Pro-truth.
He did not sign up to be a tool of murder. He signed up to serve justice. And when he realized that justice was dead, he walked away.
That man still lives.
And if you’re reading this and you feel that same sickness in your stomach, that same fire in your soul, then maybe you understand now.
The true measure of a patriot is not how loud they cheer during war, but how fiercely they protect the innocent when it would be easier to stay silent.
He chose not to stay silent.
Neither should you.
Veritas Lux Mea
Truth is my light
Bishop Taylor