PEACE PROBE by Gene Stoltzfus

Lucky in Vegas by peaceprobe

The invitation to a gathering of reflection on peacemaking in Las Vegas came several months ago.  I was honoured to join the group for a day because the question of how to respond to America’s current wars, its plans for dominance in space and the unfolding movement of robotic warfare challenges all of us, young and old, to think in fresh ways.  My time in Vegas would be completed with another adventure in contemplation in the desert sands where Creech Air Force Base trains pilots for robotic warfare.

The collapse of world wide finance and my lack of confidence in the big players may be creating a greater space for imagination.  When I complained to one participant, Vincent Harding, that I still have little confidence in what to do he gave me a little pastoral advice from an African proverb.  “How do you eat an elephant,” he asked. “One bite at a time.”  I left Las Vegas where the demons of irrational luck seem to be in control determined to free up the mirage of powerlessness in my mind.

I am done with letting the big players and gaming machines control the culture.  I know more than I have acted upon.  Economics is also a matter of spirit.   My mind’s deep freeze has kept me from the light within and the possibility of light in my opponents, the people who manage the remaining collapse of a world that takes care of the people who are “too big to fail”. Truth happens in experiments.   It is backed by courage and preparedness for the teachable moments.  My time in Las Vegas was one of the moments when I was taught.

My wake up call to finance capital was completed in the biggest detention center of Las Vegas.  But first I had to go to Creech Air Force Base 45 miles northwest in the desert. I wanted to meet a commander at Creech to discuss the work of Predator I and II, the drones that I heard so much about from Pakistani people when I visited that Muslim country in June.   I joined a group of seven. But, as we began to walk along the commercial entry way to Creech AFB we were detained by Clark County police behind a large movable cement barricade.  We were placed in the care of military police with heavy belts who pointed their big black guns at us.  It gave me a little extended time to think about the finances that pay the bill for Creech.

As we waited in front of the guns to be transported to Clark County Detention Center, two blocks from the Golden Nugget, one of Las Vegas oldest sanctuaries of luck, my colleagues asked me to redeem the time by giving a full voiced report on my recent trip to Pakistan for the benefit of my fellow detainees and our guard – caretakers.  With apologies to my friends back in Pakistan for the absence of tea service I was able to represent truthfully some of what I learned about their fears of being the objects of Predator drones and their hopes for an unfolding of justice with peace in South Asia.

By midnight six hours after the pilgrimage into Creech began, I had been fingerprinted several times, questioned repeatedly, tested for TB, had my blood pressure checked, asked if I had recently tried to commit suicide, and I repeatedly spelled and corrected my last name for the vast criminal bureaucracy of the Las Vegas region.   Somewhere along the way I was relieved of my shoes, socks, watch, ID, money, and everything but my pants and shirt.   Later in the night I was pushed into a 10 foot by 20 foot holding cell where 18 other people were already making some kind of peace or silently plotting revenge at police who had shouted or insulted them on their road to detention.

The sounds of the cell included broad sustained snores, other body noises and loud television,  a cacophony that reminded each of us non sleepers that we had reached a peculiar moment of truth.  By approximately four am a gruel like slop arrived for breakfast.  Most of us could not face the Wonder Bread and whatever else there was.  Nausea teased our stomach muscles.  The guards had thoughtfully placed a large plastic bag in the middle of the floor and told us to put any left over food that we couldn’t eat or would not stay down into it. “If you make a ‘blankety blank’ mess,” screamed the guard. “You can plan to be in the holding area for two more weeks.”

By the time of my release the second and third “gruelling” meals had come and gone.  As those hours passed, I got to know my cell mates.  Several had been picked up for the high crime of jay walking evidently a matter of major concern in the city of mostly bad luck.  Others were picked up for traffic violations.  Everyone except me had some other kind of outstanding legal problem.  For several men, simple records had never been updated.

My loss of shoes and socks became a matter of considerable concern since the temperature in the holding area of lucky town is just south of a cool fall day near the solar ice cap. While the street people slept through the fog like another day on the tracks, the rest of us shared our stories.

One man, a high roller was tracked for outstanding debts of $125,000 at two casinos when he was stopped on a traffic violation.  A couple calls and he zipped up his $700 dollar shoes and was off to another race. He told me he once won $600,000 in two hours but admitted his career on the strip had lost his family a lot more than he had won.  I managed to get a modest applause, enough to wake up the permanent sleepers when I told them I was in for “disturbing the war” at Creech AFB.

Actually I think I got lucky in Vegas because I was introduced to at least two angels in waiting.  I haven’t had a chance to talk to them very much yet.  You see angels always come to me in unkempt and upsetting ways.  First, the angel of unearned and unconscious powerlessness showed up in the gathering to do peace visioning.  I will be talking to that angel.  The second appeared in both the shouts of the Clark County Sheriff’s officers and in the up close and personal discussions with other detained people. My cell mates were curious about Afghanistan and Pakistan but they also reminded me to watch out for bully behaviour wherever it shows up, in Afghanistan, in Las Vegas police uniforms, on the back streets of Vegas or on Wall Street.  I will be having more conversations with this angel too.   The light and dark of the desert has gotten me revved up again.  I guess that is what a reflection session and retreat is supposed to do.  Thanks!


3 Comments so far
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“Creech Air Force Base trains pilots for robotic warfare.” Why do you emphasize the training over the actual control of UAVs on true hunter-killer missions abroad? Are you unclear of what is going on at Creech just because we see the occasional drone in the air here? Creech is the HQ of the 432nd squadron, which I think includes all the other UAVs in their arsenal, but I should check that again with the increase in activities at other bases. More than training is going on at Creech.

You refer to, “Predator I and II” which is not how they tend to be refered to. Not sure what a Predator II is. Predator and Reaper would be better, or MQ-1 and MQ-9 Predators. This point isn’t really important, but info coming from someone as well spoken and widely experienced as yourself may be read by our opposition, so it would be good to look like we have our fingers precisely on what we’re discussing. Jim

Jim, you are correct on both counts. Thanks

Comment by peaceprobe

Thanks so much for your reflections on a rather risky and challenging ‘retreat’ at Vegas – minus the conveniences so many retreat-goers insist on these days. Do you have shoes by now? My good brother Peter has also reflected on the camaraderie of fellow detainees on some of his ventures. Gene, did you get a discernible response from any of the Creech Air Force people when you held forth on the Pakistani experience? Thanks for your excellent writing. Why not just keep doing it – maybe you will reawaken some of us!

from gene
Yes, I got my shoes back at check out.

Response from Creech people: A big zero for now but ask me again in ten years.

Comment by peaceprobe

Thanks for the lesson I would never have gotten in any formal classes, ever. You have the gut and the gift to tell people in a very graphic way.

And you called it your retreat. For that matter
I never have had my real retreat.

Thanks again for the privilege to have another peep of the decadent USA.

CC in Indonesia

Comment by peaceprobe

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