Wasted Honor -

Carl R. ToersBijns is the author of the Wasted Honor Trilogy [Wasted Honor I,II and Gorilla Justice] and his newest book From the Womb to the Tomb, the Tony Lester Story, which is a reflection of his life and his experiences as a correctional officer and a correctional administrator retiring with the rank of deputy warden in the New Mexico and Arizona correctional systems.

Carl also wrote a book on his combat experience in the Kindle book titled - Combat Medic - Men with destiny - A red cross of Valor -

Carl is considered by many a rogue expert in the field of prison security systems since leaving the profession. Carl has been involved in the design of many pilot programs related to mental health treatment, security threat groups, suicide prevention, and maximum custody operational plans including double bunking max inmates and enhancing security for staff. He invites you to read his books so you can understand and grasp the cultural and political implications and influences of these prisons. He deals with the emotions, the stress and anxiety as well as the realities faced working inside a prison. He deals with the occupational risks while elaborating on the psychological impact of both prison worker and prisoner.

His most recent book, Gorilla Justice, is an un-edited raw fictional version of realistic prison experiences and events through the eyes of an anecdotal translation of the inmate’s plight and suffering while enduring the harsh and toxic prison environment including solitary confinement.

Carl has been interviewed by numerous news stations and newspapers in Phoenix regarding the escape from the Kingman prison and other high profile media cases related to wrongful deaths and suicides inside prisons. His insights have been solicited by the ACLU, Amnesty International, and various other legal firms representing solitary confinement cases in California and Arizona. He is currently working on the STG Step Down program at Pelican Bay and has offered his own experience insights with the Center of Constitutional Rights lawyers and interns to establish a core program at the SHU units. He has personally corresponded and written with SHU prisoners to assess the living conditions and how it impacts their long term placement inside these type of units that are similar to those in Arizona Florence Eyman special management unit where Carl was a unit deputy warden for almost two years before his promotion to Deputy Warden of Operations in Safford and Eyman.

He is a strong advocate for the mentally ill and is a board member of David's Hope Inc. a non-profit advocacy group in Phoenix and also serves as a senior advisor for Law Enforcement Officers Advocates Council in Chino, California As a subject matter expert and corrections consultant, Carl has provided interviews and spoken on national and international radio talk shows e.g. BBC CBC Lou Show & TV shows as well as the Associated Press.

I use sarcasm, satire, parodies and other means to make you think!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
































































































































Wednesday, December 16, 2015

Hot Humid Nights - a short story about July 1968


Hot Humid Nights – July 1968

 

The days were hard enough but the nights in the tropics, the sleepless nights that drove your mind to sleep deprivation, were filled with moist air, compressed like a smelly sweaty towel, as your bed felt soaked with the humid air; the tropical breeze almost still and your legs ache from the long walks the day before.

Walking through the tropics during the day was torturous enough for any man to endure. Between dodging the prickly vines, sharp tall grass and the mud under your boots, your body sweats every inch not covered by the jungle camouflaged outfit you wore so to blend in with your surroundings. Leeches, mosquitoes and other insects attack each limb and flesh exposed or covered. It made no difference where you were for these nuisance insects would find you.

Filled with regrets, stuck in a war, that is most unpopular, and a friendship with some strangers from everywhere, that lasts perhaps a week or two, you stick to your thoughts like a strip of Velcro, holding desperately onto the reality around you, to keep you from going insane. July nights, filled with a suffering heat, left over from the blistering summer sun of the nightmare that would last for some just weeks, or months but never less than a year.

It was the nights that were horrifying, the nights that played your mind and the nights that tore your heart and soul into pieces. Living and coping with the pulse of life and war around you was surely exasperated by the heat; the hot humid nights no matter where you laid your head down.

As well as dealing with the sleepless nights, your head was dealing with the faces of ghosts before, the sounds of chaos and the perspiration of hard work staying alive and out of the hand of the enemy. Vietnam was surely a distinctly different from the rest of the world on those hot July days in 1968.

Oddly enough, suffering during the day from the heat was manageable by finding shade, drinking water and feeling the almost cool breeze that was relatively moving fast enough to wipe your face with a refreshing swipe of relief. It’s the nights, not the days that make enduring the darkness a challenge. It’s the hot humid nights that makes the fever rise inside your body as you witness the moon above through the trees but the air was still, the insects were chirping and your body was weary.

Even a fleet of dark clouds can bring no relief as the wind dies down to as it flirts with the temperatures rising with the 90’s daily and 100’s almost unheard of in a chain of sequence that only the strong can survive. One could compare these hot July nights like those in Alabama or even the climate of Mississippi as the rains falter and the air is filled with wetness but not a drop falls out of the sky, making you sweat without a spot of flesh being dry.

It was the night that caused you to breakout in a drenching sweat when the sun went down; it was the dew on the morning grass that caught your eye that the sun was coming out and help you dry the wetness from your skin and give you a little bit more energy to go on another mile.

The sopping air of Vietnam evening feels hotter than the day. This saturated feeling of being wet all over drove you mad as you laid there in your bed or on the moistened ground, barely awake, yet a witness to all the misery around you as those sharing your plight, also suffer throughout the night, as the trees sway gently to a hot tropical wind that cannot find you to give you relief from the airless nights where all is strangely still for the hours before sunrise.

Some were fooled by the peace and quiet of a tropical night, but when the air is hot and the body can’t breathe, the rest of the night makes you restless. You cannot sleep and somehow you strangely wish for the day’s scorching sun to give your relief from the saturated and drenched madness around you

It was during the nights you realize how human you really are; the warm humid air keeps you breathing but not without suffering for a cool breath to sooth your body some.

There is no such thing as a good night’s rest, an evening of coolness or a temporary relief from the perspiration and heightened awareness of your respiration, laboring immensely, your exhausted and disheveled body that is trying to rest. In the end, before the sun comes up, your senses awaken to the stench of your own sweat, straining the odors of the night as you pant for a fresh breath of air.

This stench, this cologne of sweat is a poison that robs you from any rest you can get. These odors capture the mood of the day and wrap it up into a reeking fragrance that haunts your mind all over again. You smell like an overripe fruit or vegetable that had been left out in the sun.

These are the odors of stress, anxiety and open mouthed belabored breathing; a preliminary condition to death if the sun doesn’t rise very soon. Your body cannot stand this incessant respiration while the plants and animals around you require it to survive.

Walking in the swamps and marshes during the day, leave residue of plants, feces and other contaminants on your boots and clothes, that stink to high heaven during the hot humid nights. The odor is suffocating and the activity to find a restful pace or breath, is exhausting but who can sleep under such duress. The pulse becomes audible – restless and still. Enduring this hot, humid night once more is a test of wills between reality and the nightmare that visits you often in this land of tropical surprises.