Friday, October 8, 2010



 --This story is not in the book: "Eyes of Your Heart"--

        Ecrosnes, France. At the time every single young man in their 20s had the mandatory obligation to spend one year of their life in the army. 
I had had one of the greater scores in a IQ test, which gives you the opportunity to request the department in which you want to honor your duty, and I had asked the army counseling officer to be a musician, or to be a soldier on land or in the navy. Because of the history of cranal fractures from the car accident I had experienced at age 12, the change of elevation would sometimes make me dizzy, like in fast elevators, therefore my doctor precisely documentated that the only department that I could not honor was in the parachutism. I could die if I lost consciousness in the air.
         When the letter for deployment arrived in the mail, I was very excited. While opening it, I read that I was being deployed 2 weeks later as a paratrooper in Dieuze, France (east of Nancy.) I could not believe it! However, I knew it might have been an error, so I did not stress out about it and thought I would explain them once there. It was too late to make a claim and not going would result in doing jail time. 
         While arriving to the military quarter of Dieuze, I quickly realized that it was not going to be a happy time/
year of service. Not only, Dieuze was considered as the highest rank as a paratrooper quarter (those being first at going to wars) but it was also a disciplinary camp.

I wondered "why am I here?" It was just horrible.

I was experiencing a physical manifestation of human-made hell --which is anyway what hell is anyway--.  Despite all types of crazy army training camps we had to do, from 
pretending being at wars with the enemy (to me, they were the enemy -lol), walking for days and nights for miles in the freezing temperatures of the winter in the east of France, from being forced to lay in cold mud, and sleeping next to each other with our wet cold clothes on the concrete floor of a building with our hands holding firmly our guns. However, even though I was lousy in most physical exercises, I was one of the best at running miles and miles with extremely heavy bags on our back, which was surprising every one. Among all this, the problem I was having was not the training camps but from the fact some of the sous- officers in training were finding lots of sarcastic and sadistic pleasures, beating us with their boots, and my common sense told me that it was not part of our contract at the army.

        I tried to send letters to my parents, that never arrived for being seized and confiscated by sous officers. However I grabbed my chance during Christmas. Everybody was eating and drinking heavily, and well too busy to puke all over the place in the camp while singing very loud macho songs we were required to sing (the type that makes a woman a slave and an object of a man). It was a ritual and an order to sing those songs loud and proud. What a folly of mentally disturbed souls! However, I saw this event as my only opportunity. I run to the phone booth and told the officer there that I needed to give a quick phone call. Usually they would refuse me the right to use the phone, but for some angelic reason, in that holy night, this guy let me call my parents and I knew/felt he would not report me. He was my earthly angel. My dad picked up the phone, and within 5 minutes, I was telling him all about this living hell, and more amazingly, I was totally guided to tell him, step by step, what to do in order to get me out of there, before its too late (before they force me to jump off their damn planes --because it is textually what they told me they would do--.)   How would I know who to contact? It was of course the voice of the Angels speaking through my heart.  I hung up.  A few weeks later, I was called in front of the barracks captain. I was the very first guy to be called to his office, so I knew something major was going on. From that day, every single man among the thousands of soldiers in the camp knew my name. The captain told me that he received a letter from the Elysees Palace, from the French Minister of Defense himself stating that I complained about being beaten up by officers in training. The Minister added in his letter to the barracks captain of Dieuze that in the event he would receive another complaint from me, he would investigate thoroughly, which could result in the permanent closure of the camp. The captain asked me whether this was my complaint, which I confirmed.

He then asked me "If I bring all the soldiers and officers in the middle of the yard of the camp, would you be able to point which officers have been beating you up?" I said with total and firm peace 'Yes."

        All the other men in my dorm wanted to give support and report the officers that were beating them also. These officers were taking lots of pleasures at abusing of their authority to render another man as a state of slavery. The big day arrived.  When the barracks Captain asked me to point the officers, the officers in training gave me a look, a sign and loudly whispered that they will kill me later on if I say anything. It was frightening at first but suddenly, such as the bright Light that I had seen during my Near-Death Experience at age 12, I felt in total peace and harmony with my Self, felt the strength of the Angels, of the Christ, of God within me, and I felt completely confident, safe and protected. I then pointed the officers. They could not believe I had just done that and braved their threats.

For that reason,I was the only one among the thousands of soldiers not to have the right to wear the paratrooper red beret. Everybody seemed to hate me, for dishonoring our camp but most probably because they did not have the strength I had found within me to fight for my rights, for being connected to the Divine.

        They sent me to the army hospital of the city of Nancy where I stayed for many weeks, on hold. Everyday single day, they did X-Rays on me.

It was their revenge. However I did not know I could have refused them also, for the sake of my health. They had to abuse once again. If hell exists on earth, I had found the men who create it. Like in the many hidden messages of the movie, AVATAR by James Cameron, those who pretend to fight against the enemy and call the others 'terrorists' are in fact the enemy/terrorists themselves. This applies so well to my experience with the army in France.  My compassion goes to the soldiers that go to the army or are deployed in war zones, and find themselves brainwashed by officers who abuse their authority and in which they lose their souls and their heartfelt connection.  After a few weeks in the hospital doing nothing but playing cards with other mates,
I was sent back to the camp to return the army clothing. In order for them to send me home before the end of my duty, they had told me that the only option for that would be to state me as 'foul crazy person', which could be dramatic for a person working in the Administration of the country (post office, some banks, city hall, governmental buildings, etc).  
I accepted since I knew I would never work in those places anyway.and I did not care whether on paper, I was considered under the French law as a unstable person (lol)  Since that 'instability saved me from hell, so be it!

I had to sleep there for one more night but one officer was in charge of my safety. I saw through an open door of the clinic of the camp all the mates of the dorm whom either had a broken leg or arm or a wrap around neck support . They did not see me. I did not go to talk to them.

At last, for the officers' last revenge, they had me miss the train to go back to Paris, which had me wait all night at the station waiting for the next train.  I had no money and the ticket that the army provided me with for that specific train was not valid anymore, so the controller gave me a ticket. That was their last low-rated revenge to me.

        Once again, the angels had saved my life. My mom admitted that my dad had totally left his job aside (as a farmer) for weeks in order to execute step by step what I (=the Angels) had told him to do, which worked out so wonderfully.

      The moral of this inedit and personal story is that when you are connected to who you truly are and to the power of what surrounds you, what is above you,  you are always safe, protected through the Divine guidance. Trust your inner voice. Your Higher Self sometimes may want to tell you something, so learn to listen to the Higher part of Your Self more often.

Happy New Year 2010

From my heart to yours,

Frederic Delarue 

No comments: