Winning Without Victory
a political and romantic fiction novel by Rolf A. F. Witzsche
Volume 3 of the 12-volume series, The Lodging for the Rose

Page 6
Chapter 1 - Wreck Beach University.

      At any rate, it was good being there. We stayed until after sunset. We could hardly find our way back up the trail in the dark. Of course, since we had 'dined' at the beach, there was no need to look for a restaurant on the way back to the airfield.



      Throughout the next four days, Tony and I went to the beach every evening after the show. On the last day Tony found out that the Air Force team didn't need him in Seattle, where the next stop of the tour was to be. He told me that the F-15 had been sold to Canada. It was left behind to be replaced by a new model. This meant that there was nothing for him to do in Seattle. The new plane would be flown by the manufacturer's test pilot, himself an air show veteran. Tony told me that this change in schedule had come as a surprise to him. He said that he was pleased, though, about the way things had worked out. The change in schedule gave us another three days for what we had come for.



      We started early each morning during those last days, and talked to as many people as we could, on every subject that came to mind. The beach was an ideal place for this. It had all the appearances of being an international meeting place. We met a college teacher from Chicago, a girl from England, a man from South Africa. Tony discovered two ex Air Force B-52 pilots in conversation about Guam. They spoke of shark infested beaches, hair-raising experiences with KC-135 tankers, and boring hauls into Nam, except for the nightmares afterwards, when they found out through the grape vine what their bombing had done to the people, into whose lives the bombs had been dropped.

      We also met a metal sculptor. His friends called him Jason. By appearance, he was the reincarnation of Van Gogh, except for the ears. He had refrained from emotional surgery.

 


 

Earn the un-diploma.
Learn the un-knowledge.
See the un-seen.
Live the un-conventional.
Love the un-hidden.

 




      Jason was an artist of a different kind, a metallurgy student who liked to experiment with all kinds of art. His latest adventure was metal casting into water filled molds. He told us that he had developed a special alloy that wouldn't explode when brought in contact with water, as other liquid metals do.

      I told him about a New Year's party-game our family used to play at home a long time ago, when we were children. The game consisted of 'free-style' lead casting into a bucket of water, to see who could create the most fascinating shapes.

      "But that's not art!" said Jason, as though he was insulted by the analogy.

      I shrugged my shoulders and said that I thought it was art of a sort.

      Well, we didn't stay long with him. He had his idea about art, and I had mine. Also, he was far too concerned about impressing his friends with his grandiose achievements.



      Most people we met on the beach were ordinary folks. No one had special projects on the go. They were content with the world, comfortable in their illusion that nothing would upset the great apple cart for another thousand years. For most of them, the world had remained upright for all of their life. They were too young to have seen World War II. Even Nam was barely remembered. Nobody had heard of Marshal Ogarkov, much less of the Ogarkov Plan of extending Soviet domination across the whole world. We got the strangest looks when we addressed the issue.

      In a way I wasn't surprised at the reactions we got. This was a different beach than the one I had found in Leipzig. The atmosphere was different. Most people had come to the beach to get away from the world, rather than to deal with fundamental principles.



      On our last day at the beach, we met the metal sculptor again. This time he wasn't talking about art. The topic of the day was religion, or rather he was speaking vehemently against it, and against big business and big government, and against the blindness with which people were subservient to them.

      When we told him that we were from Pittsburgh, he was startled and changed the subject. Then he asked us what we were at the beach for.

      "A private research mission," I told him.

      "Aha!" he said and grinned.

      "Not that kind of research. Serious research! We are looking for evidence in support of a new perception of a fundamental principle," I said to him. "We have a project started to create a nudist beach in North Carolina, like the one here. I have put 93,000 dollars into it. That's all the money we have, to create an oasis for people where they can have a holiday from the world of lies."

      Jason stopped grinning. "That's on the level?" he asked.

      "A friend of mine developed a new concept for perceiving the historic Principle of Universal Love," I said to him.

      "That's going to be interesting," Jason replied, and sat down into the sand where we stood. Reluctantly, we joined him.

      "All love begins with our individual self-love for our humanity, which we all share," I said to him. "Whatever we find beautiful and of value, is rooted there. On this basis love is naturally universal, since there is only one humanity, and this one, is reflected in all of us, and I mean all. We are all human beings of the same humanity. Whatever love is linked to our humanity, necessarily embraces the whole of mankind. It happens laterally. Are you still with me?" I asked.

      Jason nodded.

      "A friend of mine in Germany had created a visual construct to represent this concept in the form of a vast lateral lattice that comprises all mankind linked together laterally by threads of love for our common humanity. Are you still with me?" I asked. "OK, what I am saying is this, that we have no choice in the matter. If there is love, it has to be on the same level as everyone's, universally. That's the truth," I said. "That's the reality of our being."

      Jason nodded quietly.

      "Here it gets interesting," I said to him. "This lateral lattice of universal love, represents three different elements, which are peace, joy, and power. The element of peace manifests what my friend calls in general terms, the universal kiss. The element of joy manifests universal economic development. The element of power, in turn, manifests science. These three together reflect the Principle of Universal Love. Love must express itself in all of the three elements, or else it is fake. It must be universal in nature to be genuine."

      "Of course, of course, the Principle of Universal Love was put onto the world map in 1648 with the Treaty of Westphalia," Jason interjected.

      "I know that," I said to Jason. "I'm surprised though that you are aware of it."

      "I am not stupid you know," said Jason. "Indeed, I can understand what you are saying. Most people probably wouldn't, as you may have already found out. In fact, I love what you are saying. These are beautiful concepts."

      "Profound concepts," I added.

      "Yes," he said, and nodded again. "I love the element of the universal kiss. That's truly profound. That is priceless. Unfortunately they are also impossible to implement," Jason added. "They would overturn the entire world, if they were implemented. I doubt though, that even you can live up to them."

      "I try," I said to him. "We both try."

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