​

ON CELL PHONES MENU MIGHT BE LOCATED BY SELECTING A SMALL SYMBOL, SUCH AS A SMALL SQUARE WITH HORIZONTAL LINES, RATHER THAN SEPARATE MENU BUTTONS AS ON A COMPUTER SCREEN​

What can they do, cut my hair,

send me to Nam, shoot me?...

     ​Select a page from the menu below. Left-click the button until the page name turns magenta color. Then scroll under the buttons to find a new page.​​ 

​deanrichardkibbe.com

TOP SECRET (See also: deanrichardkibbe.net, deanrichardkibbe.biz; and, saintvibiana.com)

SUPPORT THE WORLDWIDE GENERAL STRIKE AND THE BAN ON ALL WAR...

BOYCOTT NEW CARS

     When you go into training for combat, they tell you the idea is to become a lean, mean, fighting machine. Be careful what you ask for; you just might get it. Then what are you going to do with it? After the mission is over, the cyborg might decide to get ideas of its own. But, what if it doesn't run on batteries and you can't turn it off?

     When I got to boot camp I was 21, had spent the last few years smoking unfiltered Pall Malls, (because when I first started smoking I thought the best buy would be the one with the most tobacco per cigarette, without any filter, which you couldn't smoke), drinking as much beer as I could get away with, with no activities that would be considered as exercise. After I went on my first run, I had a pretty good idea what it was like to be a Polio victim. I realized that the Pall Malls weren't that great of a bargain after all. Most of the other boots were younger, barely out of high school, with some of them having been into various types of activities which would give them some type of exercise. All of us were exercised until we felt like we were going to die. But, I always survived. I remember one time when we had washed our laundry by hand, and a few of us were assigned to guard the clothes until they were dry. I doubt if anybody would have stolen our clothes if we weren't watching; but, if anyone did, it would most likely be the Platoon Commander or a drill instructor. Another marine stated that, after we had been out of boot camp a while, some of us might say  that boot camp was easy; but, nobody would ever be saying that while we were in boot camp. At that moment, I knew that it was possible that some marines, maybe even me, might have memories fading in the future in volume because we got through everything without loss of blood or body parts. But, at that moment, I made a point of remembering in the future that he was very right; and, none of us would say or think that boot camp was easy while we were still in boot camp. We were allowed to buy cigarettes and matches when we went to the PX as a unit on rare occasions. But, we weren't allowed to smoke them until we had been in boot camp for a while. I kept a pack of Pall Malls and a book of paper matches in a shirt pocket in case they ever gave us a smoke break. One day we were lined up outside in formation. The drill instructor or platoon commander said for anyone that didn't smoke to go inside. Then several of us were still standing. Then they said for anyone that didn't have their own cigarettes to go inside. A few of us were still left behind. Then they said for anyone that didn't have their own matches to go inside. I think there were either two or three of us left out of the whole platoon. Then they said "The smoking lamp is lit for one cigarette.", and they left us standing alone to finish smoking. My cigarettes were completely flattened out; but, I managed to get one of them to squeeze back into a shape that would allow it to burn. After I finished smoking, I walked back into the quonset hut, feeling like the cabin pressure had all escaped into the stratosphere. Other marines thought that I must have known ahead of time that we were going to have a chance for a smoke break. But, I didn't. I was just unlucky. Soon after I switched to a filtered brand of cigarettes. Some things were harder than others for me. I had asthma, but didn't know what it was at that time; and, my long legs didn't fit into the shorter steps other marines made when we were jogging. So, it was more difficult on runs for me than a lot of other marines. But, I wanted to be a marine; so, I just had to endure and hope to survive on runs. But, with my long legs, I could route step all day long, and never get tired, while shorter legged marines looked, while they were route stepping, like I felt when we were jogging. As I went through training, my physical condition kept improving all the time. The last stage of training before Viet Nam was staging. Marines of various military occupational specialties, who were all scheduled to go overseas, all went through staging together. Those of us who went through recon school together were in great physical condition. I had gone from boot camp, where I was a Polio victim, to a lean, mean, fighting machine, who could run up steep hills screaming like a banshee, while marines in the air wing, who were in staging with us, were huffing and puffing all the way.

     But, the physical training was just a part of boot camp. Our combat training was crammed into an intensity like the P.T. was, where we would learn a lot of skills in a relatively short time. It was certainly the most efficient combat training you could get. We learned, from all the stages of training, how to be a unit, working together like a machine with numerous parts, to handle any type of combat activity that would be necessary. But, it wasn't our physical condition that made us such efficient warriors. It was the knowledge and skills we had learned, and stored inside our brains, and, our ability to analyze any situation for maximum combat efficiency.

     If the federal suit, KIBBE v. UNITED STATES, et al, was involving any other military unit, a simple and ordinary unit, these would be routine military files, probably automatically unclassified after 12 years. But, the information I am trying to obtain are the most secretive files in the Viet Nam war. "CAP" was an inside joke by the Central Intelligence Agency. A cap warn on the head of marines as part of their uniform was officially called a "cover"; while, the C.I.A.'s cover for running spy operations in Viet Nam was officially called "CAP". If the C.I.A. was running a station in Moscow, other than embassy personnel, they could set up agents, and/or their case handlers, in apartment buildings or other peace time dwellings. However, because it would be hard for American spies to pass themselves off as Vietnamese civilians, they had to operate out of a military type command post, often in fairly remote areas out of view of Vietnamese civilians, so that the Vietnamese spies they were handling would not be as easily seen when they changed from military uniforms into modern disco type clothing, as they left early each day to walk to a meeting point, where they would be given a ride to an urban area, where they would pose as civilians, to infiltrate the local urban population to gather intelligence data, such as Vietnamese sympathizers and infrastructure having logistics interactions with Viet Cong covert operatives. I never thought the spies were any big deal, because it didn't seem like it would be very interesting or exciting, unless they had a good dance partner or something. These command posts were known as "CAP" units, with a "Combined Action Platoon" consisting of South Vietnamese Popular Forces troops, with only a single squad of Americans. "CAP" was more secretive than the C.I.A.'s "Phoenix" program because, even though "Phoenix" was kept secret from people in the states, it was a terrorist organization far worse than anything currently in the news today, which used assassinations, torture, mutilation, and other scare tactics, to intimidate innocent Vietnamese civilians into informing on alleged Viet Cong, eliminating Vietnamese whose political views did not meet C.I.A. approval, and similar horrifying tactics just as brutal and evil as those acts carried out in Nazi concentration camps during the Holocaust. It was like Nazi death camp guards who went door to door among the civilian population, bringing evil along with them.

     "CAP", on the other hand, was in many ways the exact opposite of "Phoenix". It was officially a project of the U.S. Marine Corps, under the jurisdiction of the Third Marine Amphibious Force. Although most Americans never heard of "CAP", even marines, unless they were stationed in Viet Nam, if then, there was no way to keep the existence of the CAP units a secret, since they were not invisible. Officially the Combined Action Program was a military advisor program which used U.S. Marines as military advisors to Popular Forces troops. Since combat training in the marines was very intense, sometimes brutal, highly skilled for torturing recruits into becoming savage beasts, who were very efficient warriors, without causing physical damage, other than routine sprained ankles, heel contusions, shin splints, stress fractures, etc., and even developing physical condition to its peak, an average marine rifleman who had gone through all stages of beginning and advanced training, with just a short time of combat experience, was well qualified to perform any type of combat or military advisor role. CAP marines performed standard combat activities, such as patrols, ambushes, bunker watch when not on patrol or ambush, and other routine tasks. The main difference in combat activities at CAP, compared to my previous assignment in a rifle company, was that at the rifle company we usually would go out as a single rifle squad, with day patrols during light hours, and set up a squad size ambush just before dark, remaining in our secured ambush site until first light, since it would have been suicidal to move around at night with only a single rifle squad for firepower; while, at CAP, we would usually go out in four man fire teams, 2 Americans and 2 South Vietnamese Popular Forces troops, on day patrols, and both night ambushes and night patrols. Among other marines, we never considered secrecy as an issue of any kind, since we were out in the bush, with nobody around to tell our secrets to; and, we were the secrets anyway. But, spies will do anything to keep their activities a secret. So, they killed all of us to make sure we couldn't make an album or an appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show. 

     And now I'm wondering if anyone would try to penalize me when they find I made a spelling error in paragraph 16. I have always been an excellent speller. I have only lost one spelling contest, which lasted for quite a while. In a spelling contest which lasts a long time, it is kind of like Russian roulette, except instead of the suspense of waiting to see who gets the bullet, you are waiting to see who gets "the word". "The word" is one which for some reason or other just happens to be the rare word that, even if you've spelled it correctly before, catches you, and you spell it wrong. I got "the word". I had to settle for second place. I was a loser. So, I gave up my spelling career and went back to collecting Daphnia and Cyclops in local ponds. At least I couldn't lose at microbiology. So, after all these years, I got "the word" in paragraph 16. of the Complaint. I didn't even notice it until long after the Complaint was filed. I use Photoshop CS6, which doesn't have spell check. It wasn't that noticeable because the wrong letter and the right one look quite similar. I suspect the defendants might try to keep me from the information on the grounds of secrecy. Secrecy doesn't protect national security; it destroys it. If you give secrecy to protect the evil spy culture, some day you might end up seeing Nazis having parades in the streets, and rallies, talking about how much they hate Jews. They are not clans; they are covens. And what is a Jew? All the Jews I used to hang around with weren't any different from anybody else, except they went to a different Sunday school on a different day. The only generalization you can make about Jews is that they are like snowflakes; no two are exactly alike. If you are a Christian, and believe in The Old Testament, then you should realize that Jews believe in the same Messiah. That means that Christians are Jews; and, Jews are Christians. What makes someone a Jew is their religious beliefs, not their genetic makeup. To those who say they are Jews because one or more of their parents are Jewish, even though they say, do, and try to sell to other people, the most perverted, evil, and disgusting things, I say: "I know Jews; and, you are no Jew." To those who would say "Jews won't replace us.", I say: "Yes we will!"

     At this point, I received some material from the defendants, after the Complaint was filed, not meeting the standards of the material I asked for. It is getting a little complicated; and, it will all be public at the right time. I sent one last email to the marine FOIA office after their inadequate response. I received one other set of data, which will be discussed at a later time. The following is a transcript of the last email I sent:

To whom it may concern:
     Be advised that this case has gone to court, KIBBE v. UNITED STATES, Case Number: 2:17-cv-12288 in the Eastern District of Michigan. The Complaint, plus Unredacted pages, for the pages redacted by the Court Clerk's office with no motion by the defendants, can be legally viewed on PAGE NINETY NINE at deanrichardkibbe.net in .pdf format for free. I own all of the original documents legally, which are all either never classified or have been unclassified, all obtained through legal means, including those which I submitted myself as original copies to various government agencies over the years. An attempt to attach the version including the unredacted versions of redacted pages caused a message which stated that your email service can not accept files more than 20 MB in size. A copy of the Court's version of the Complaint, with Exhibits redacted by the Court without any motion by the defendants, is attached as a .pdf file.
     I am not looking for my own personal records, to obtain benefits, or similar reasons. I already am receiving 100% Service-Connected Veterans Compensation for PTSD and a gunshot wound to the right calf with peroneal nerve damage as a result of combat experiences in Viet Nam. The .pdf file you sent me is basically useless. It contains information I got a long time ago, in a barely readable form. When I stated in my FOIA request that I needed the COMPLETE Unit Diaries, I was not just referring to administrative records, like those in the .pdf. I need every file the Marine Corps has related to Combined Action Company 1-3, from, and especially, the reports sent out daily by helicopter in empty food containers, after information collected by Popular Forces troops in civilian clothes dressed like they were going to a disco, who returned to the "CAP" units just before dark after completing their spy activities, was translated and collated, along with other unit data, such as combat activities, by the "squad leader", "intelligence officers", and similar American and Vietnamese personnel, inside the "squad leader's" headquarters, to collated related data at the administrative level. Even seemingly trivial information might be useful.  
     To translate into vernacular Marine Corps off the radio combat language, as used in Viet Nam and other places in the 1960s: All of you are servants of the people; and, I am a different kind of P.F.C. known as a civilian, which means I outrank the Commandant of the Marine Corps, and he is a boot to life compared to me. If you read and carefully analyze the Complaint, including unredacted versions of exhibits, you should be able to understand that I am just doing what the defendants, The United States, et al, should have done a long time ago: investigate and verify the murder of "CAP" marines by the Central Intelligence Agency. 
     A brief summation of one complicated fact is that in combat, sometimes there is a special need for people who have an extremely talented efficient analytical natural brain use format. Because you can't classify a human brain or the information and conclusions it has gathered by various means, they had to blow our brains out completely before we became logistically intelligent enough to outsmart their evil formats. It was kind of like a dog training a human volunteer to do tricks, except the dogs hate humans and don't want you to alert other humans to the tricks they get the humans to perform. So, once you figure out all of their tricks, a pack of dogs tries to rip you apart to keep you a secret. They failed their perfect plan to kill me off. My brain actually has a different operating system from other people; and, it can sometimes be difficult for me to translate my thoughts into dog language.
     The Navy Seals, Green Berets, and other Boy Scout projects now commonly referred to as "special operations", were pussies compared to just an average marine rifleman who has completed standard beginning and advanced training. The Boy Scouts have to study for years to become "snipers", who think they can win in ground combat by sneaking up in an armored plated Hummer, then staging an ambush site with a big pile of hay stuck to their back, and defeat the enemy troops with a big heavy log. Marines learned in Boot Camp how to hit a bullseye the size of a man's head from 500 Meters, with an M-14 rifle, without a scope, in the prone position. People who did extremely well on intelligence tests in the marines were singled out and kept track of. In Boot Camp, after our platoon took one such test, they asked a few of us to stay behind. Then they explained to us about the possibilities of maybe going to Officer's Candidate School, after we completed training. At that time I thought about how it might be cool to be a pilot. By the time I got through Boot Camp I wanted to be a grunt so I could bring down a Zebra with one bite to the throat. Although I had no way of knowing ahead of time, since nobody had even heard of "CAP" before we got to Viet Nam, it was easy for me to figure out at a later date, after I had actually been in "CAP", that the reason I was the only one of the marines I went through Recon School and Staging together with, of those who were sent to the First Battalion, Seventh Marine Regiment in one batch, who was sent to Delta Company, at an isolated Command Post known as Hill 41, instead of one of the other Companies which were headquartered at the Battalion Headquarters on Hill 10, was so I would have the opportunity to "volunteer" for "CAP", which I ended up doing.
     You sending me that .pdf is about on the same level as a dog trying to convince me that I was the one who pooped on the floor, instead of the dog, except you have to clean up your own poop.
     If you want to play diplomat bullshit games that politicians use, well: Abraham fathered a child at 100 years old. I'm 70; so, maybe we could get a 30 year head start. I'll even bring along extra boot scrapers. Otherwise, despite what some well educated idiots might have been led to believe, data of every kind collected by the C.I.A. is like energy: it can be changed but never destroyed. If you wanted to seriously at least consider the possibility, no matter how remote you might think it is, that I might be right about the C.I.A. murdering "CAP" marines, and President John F. Kennedy, the President of the United States has the authority to order all files of the Central Intelligence Agency to be seized immediately, if it hasn't already been done, close down the Central Intelligence Agency, and seize all Marine Corps and other records of any kind even remotely connected or relevant to the Combined Action Program. In case you are wondering, I have never killed anyone, even in combat, and I do not need immunity from PROSecution, just immunity from PERSecution. Burma Shave...
Dean R. Kibbe