“The basics I guess…how our ancient peoples came across the ice bridge and settled this land, while others eventually continued on to the Lower 48 to become Native Americans of the Lower 48. Our Alaska has the three main native groups of Aleut, Eskimo, and Indian, which, unfortunately, as with the Native American Indians, our three people groups seem to have a lot of trouble getting along. I’ve read of the great Indian wars of the west and how the great Iroquois Nations were found and governed. But Alaskan Indians were more interested in hunting and fishing than fighting. We tried to get along with the white man right from the beginning, when they first came over from Russia and later from Europe, and it cost us dearly. How the Russians had laid claim to Alaska, then sold it to the United States, without even talking it over with any of the Alaskan Natives. That’s about as far as I go on the history, Colonel, but I’m still interested in what this has to do with all the guns and this James Bond doohickey.”
“Give me a moment for a quick history lesson, and then we'll talk,” Silas said. “First off, true it was the Alaskan Native who was here first. But in 1741 the Danish Navigator Vitus Bering was commissioned by the Czar Peter the Great of Russia to land on the Alaskan Islands. Bering Sea and Bering Strait was named for him. They then established the first white settlement on Kodiak Island in 1784 and in their arrogance, believed they now owned the land…all of it. In effect though, Russia did legally own some 7.4 acres of land in Southeast Alaska, on the Island of Sitka. They had purchased this small parcel from the Indians, where they had built a fort, and later, a famous battle was fought there. When Russia sold Alaska to the United States, they had no legal right to do so, other than those 7.4 acres. The remainder of Alaska was owned by the various tribes, but their tribal rights were totally ignored. The USA paid Russia $7,200,000.00 for 591,004 square miles, which comes to basically two-cents per acre. A ridiculous cost, even in those days. Alaska also comes with 6,640 miles of coastline.
“We jump ahead now to the great gold rush of 1897-98, where thousands of people come north from the United States to find the mother lode in Nome and Skagway. Most of them end up going home broke, and all too many never leave Alaska alive. Then in 1903, the USA and Canada settle a borderline dispute and begin working toward making Alaska a US Territory, which finally occurred in 1912. We all know Alaska became a state in 1959, oil reserves were discovered in Prudhoe Bay in 1968 and the rush was on for black gold. With the boom came the need to move the crude oil and the great Alaskan pipeline was finished in 1977 from Prudhoe Bay to the Port of Valdez.
“Our most western point is only 51-miles from Russia’s coastline. But, 2 miles separate our former Defensive Early Warning site on Little Diomede Island in the Bering Sea from Russia’s Big Diomede Island. When the ice bridge is formed every winter, we all know that anyone can easily walk across from Alaska to Russia or back the other way. The Alaska-Canadian Highway, built by mostly Afro-American soldiers in World War II, is 1,422 miles long and runs between Dawson Creek, British Columbia and Delta Junction, Alaska…”
Clay held his hand up, “Colonel, I don’t mean to interrupt, but I know all of this, and I’m not sure the point you are trying put across…”
This time Clay was stopped, interrupted by Allen. “Let him finish, Clay. The Colonel always has a point as you will see,” Allen said, and the Colonel nodded his thanks.
“As I was saying, Alaska’s constitution was first adopted in 1956, three years before statehood was voted on. We have a governor, lieutenant governor, 13 commissioners appointed by the governor. Based on our population, US law allows us two US senators and one US representative for serving us in DC. In Juneau, our state capital, we have 20-state senators and 40-representatives. Local boroughs number 12, but that number is due to change at any time.
“In 1971, the Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act came to be, giving $962.5 Million in funds and 40 million acres of land to the state’s Alaska Natives. Some viewed it as a way of buying the state from them when it was previously never purchased. Not all of the Alaskan Natives accepted these funds or the acreage. Some of the communities did not have corporations in place to accept these funds. Then in 1976, the Alaska Permanent Fund came to be, where 1% of the net profits from oil revenue was broken down every year and issued in part as a dividend to all qualified Alaskans, who had applied for it.
“Then the worst happened; President Jimmy Carter in-acted the infamous Antiquities Act, where he stripped Alaskans of over 1 million acres of public land and transformed it into National Park land, wilderness lands, and refuges. One such refuge is the great Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, a hotbed of contention. Here it is believed, ANWR is sitting upon possibly the largest oil deposit in North America, and this act prevents Alaskans and citizens of the US from profiting from it. While we are paying up to $5 for a gallon of gas, having to tolerate those people overseas who hate us for our religion and something that happened more than 2,000 years ago, they could shut the flow of oil off at any time, while this oil sits below the ground for us to take.”
“Yes, Sir,” Clay replied. “I’ve read all of this and agree with our need to drill in ANWR, but until Congress allows it, this will never happen and the Environmentalists have an extremely strong lobby.”
“Exactly, and that is my point and why you are here this afternoon. These same lobbyists own a good percentage of our DC politicians through bribes, campaign donations, and promises of future jobs. What if I was to tell you there was a way to get around Congress to free up Alaska and let Alaskans run our own affairs?”
Easy boy, don’t jump! You don’t want to lose this one now because you didn’t set the hook. Move slow, let them reel you in and remember, you’re a former Captain in the US Army, act somewhat offended by all this. “Colonel, you’re speaking of the US Congress here, right?” Clay moved toward the edge of his cushion, his eyes having that glare of offense, but not too much. “Sir, I’m not a bit happy with our political state and our country’s current downward spiral, but I’m not sure what we can do about it up here in Alaska.”
“What about Alaska for Alaskans, Clay?” Allen asked.
But before Clay could reply, Norm interrupted, “How often have you seen the federal government either ignore us completely, when we need something we’ve been promised or then simply do what they want with our natural resources and our Guard units, while we're supposed to stand up, donate our men and women and wave Old Glory to the tune of these highly paid lobbyists. It’s oil and defense contractors that are keeping us in the Middle East, Clay.”
“Norm, you’re a former Marine, and what I am hearing here surprises me. I’m a patriot, and as for Old Glory, I love the history of my country. From the mid-1700’s through today, our country has worn the white hat. We’ve been the 7th Cavalry for the world and from what I’m hearing here, you’d like to think of a way to separate Alaska from the USA. Am I right?”
“Relax, Clay,” Allen said, “…though I find it amusing to hear an Indian praise the laurels of the 7th Cavalry. Much less all the broken treaties the US has swept aside as the federal troops moved one Indian tribe after another onto federal reservation to make room for white man’s civilization.” Allen stopped for a moment, seeing how red in the face Norm was getting. He hated it when they brought up the indignities suffered by the American and Alaskan Native People at the hands of the white man.
The room was quiet for a moment, and then Allen continued, “Clay… no, we’re simply talking here, and you haven’t heard the rest of it yet. Give the Colonel a chance to finish.”
“Let me tell you about our vote for statehood, and you tell me what you think of the process undertaken by our Alaskan politicians,” Silas said. He stood up and walked about the room as he spoke, he needed to digest his sandwich and walking helped. The old stomach had given him some problems, and pretty soon he would have to go see a doctor, and he wasn’t looking forward to someone poking around in certain areas with all sorts of new fangled tools.
“As I said, they adopted the Constitution 3 whole years before the vote was taken, giving certain people a lot of time to set thing up to go their way. The political party in power had its key people in place, and that’s all they needed to get the ball rolling up here. They held the key positions in the various committees both here and in DC and were connected with the right amount of US senators and representatives. They also certainly had the money needed to get their plan through. Now you may not know this, but the voting for statehood was to be regulated by United Nations Law, which at the time required several options to be placed on the actual ballot for the voter to vote on. The first option was a vote for statehood; second option is a no vote to statehood, and Alaska remains a territory; the third option was for Alaska to have the opportunity to pursue alignment with another country…say Canada, which we share a good sized border with; the fourth option was to obtain sovereignty and allow Alaska to become its own country. Now for some strange reason, which was never explained or even cleared up, the ballot only had two options on it; statehood or no statehood. They would either become a state or remain a territory. The voters, the citizens of Alaska, were not being allowed the decision of the other two options, and this was conducted by UN law and apparently ignored. There was also no opportunity offered for a second election to right things. To make matter worse, the ballots were only printed in English. A lot of Alaskan Native People could not write, much less read the English language in 1959.”
Silas looked Clay in the face, “Did your grandfather vote for statehood?”
It took a moment for Clay to remember his Grandpa’s words about those days and he seemed to recall how he hadn’t voted and didn’t know very many people who had. “No, he didn’t.”
“I didn’t think so. I don’t have the numbers, but a lot of the Native Alaskans I’ve spoken to who lived outside of the main population areas were not able to vote. We’ve also learned how the US government committed some very unethical acts during these times. True, they were not technically illegal because voter registration laws were still not worked out or implemented, but the US Military brought up thousands of troops for short temporary duty assignments during this brief period, and they were not only told how to vote by their officers but transported in groups down to the polls. Some say there was several beer parties held on base afterward as a way of rewarding the troops, before flying them home the same week. These short term assignments must have cost the American taxpayer a fortune in travel expenses and TDY pay for the troops.”
Good, God! Grandpa said they pulled a lot of high-jinks back then, especially against the native people, but I had no idea to such a degree. And I have little doubt the Colonel is telling me the truth, it’s probably easy enough to check if I look in the right places. But I can tell the Colonel has more. Goes along with the “No native allowed” bars, bathrooms, and restaurants of the 1960s.
“Between the time of the creation and adoption of the Constitution and the vote for statehood, the US government came to the conclusion that with Alaska’s limited population, the new state government might not have the funds to operate. So, working in tandem with the statehood committee, they came up with what is termed the 90/10 statehood compact. Now understand, most states receive a low percentage of funds from the US Government, about 33%, for the mineral wealth taken from their ground in the form of gold, silver, oil, natural gas… the list is long. So, Congress in its infinite wisdom proposed and made a compact with the statehood committee to pay Alaska 90% instead of 33%, giving the state the needed monies to operate with. Now, this was a great encouragement to go for statehood. As a territory, they weren’t receiving anything. Not even the 33%. But like a crooked used car dealer, our US Congress immediately backed out on the deal once statehood was signed into law by President Eisenhower. Currently, I believe there are several native corporations suing the US government over this 90/10 issue, but they’ll be tied up in court for decades.
“Now the founder of the Alaska Independence Party, Joe Vogler, tried to press the United Nations into hearing his proclamation and evidence to force a second statehood vote, but he got nowhere, and he quickly became a thorn in the side of the US government. Somewhere along the line, he became too much trouble, and Joe was murdered. Supposedly he was killed by an unstable friend, but from what I’ve been able to piece together, the murder investigation was a shabby one and accomplished all too quickly for a homicide. The killer confessed right away, a plea deal was used, and the man sort of vanished into the penal system. Sort of a Ruby to Oswald thing, or maybe an Oswald to Kennedy things, I’ll let the pro’s figure it out. But it stinks. Joe is gone, and the US Government is happy… well, until this 90/10 stuff started showing up in local federal court and its sort of hard to murder off a whole native corporation and not catch the eyes and ears of the International news services.”
“Wow…I am…I am…Colonel, I’m still wondering why I’m here. Not that I don’t mind hearing all this and I so dearly hope some of my family is involved in this legal action.”
“Has any of this made you angry, Clay?” Norm asked.
“Major, it’s real hard to get me angry any more. I’ve seen a lot, bought way too many of those proverbial t-shirts, worn ‘em out, and burned ‘em to ashes. So, sometimes, I no longer know what to think. But I love Alaska, there is no other place like it in the world, and I would die to protect her.”
“I hope so, Clay,” Silas said in a serious tone of voice and added, “… because I am about to brief you on an extremely sensitive matter and the true reason behind your presence here today… and it may involve you risking your life… for Alaska.”
9 - THE NEXT STEP IN THE GAME
BASSETT ARMY HOSPITAL, FORT WAINWRIGHT, FAIRBANKS, ALASKA
ROOM # 318
16:31 HOURS, (4:31 P.M.) DECEMBER 3RD
Doc Adams note pad now was full, and he interrupted Clay for a moment with an upraised hand, while he switched to a second spiral notebook. This one was red and somewhat larger than the previous one. He then braced this new one on his knee, opened it to the first page and made a couple notes on top. Doc then nodded to Clay to signify he was ready to continue.
The doctor’s treatment room was overly warm today, causing both men to sweat. Fort Wainwright’s massive coal-fired steam plant heated nearly all of the Army’s buildings, with the radiating moist heat piped out through miles of large pipes and into the various structures around base. Smaller pipes then broke off from the main one, until even smaller ones delivered the heat into the baseboard heaters in separate housing units. It was an inexpensive way of heating the post. The coal was shipped up by train car, carried north via the Alaska Railroad from the Healy Coal Mines approximately ninety miles to the south of Fort Wainwright. During the colder weather, the steam plants on post, at Eielson Air Force Base and for the City of Fairbanks, created clouds of microscopic white ice crystals and this formed what was known in Alaska as ice fog. This fog, thicker than the worst fog London or San Francisco had to offer, often caused some serious accidents. Generally, as it grew colder, the upper air forced the colder air down to the surface, which meant the ice fog didn’t descend upon the highway or open areas around the valley until minus 35 degrees or lower. Above that temperature, the clouds of vapor coming out of the plants simply filled the skies over the Tanana Valley with icy wisps of air.
His white handkerchief soiled from usage to wipe sweat off his forehead and cheeks, Doc Adams stopped his writings for a moment to again wipe the area over his eyebrows and clean his eyeglasses from sweat droplets. He had already removed his white doctor’s smock but was compelled by pride not to remove his dark brown and tan striped wool sweater. Had he remembered the steam heat of this old hospital building, he would’ve worn one of his vests. But he was not going to sit here in front of Clay in a stretched-out white t-shirt. Doctor’s simply didn’t do that. He was wearing his black slacks with two-inch cuffs and had given in to removing his Sorrels, leaving his feet in thick wool blue
socks. The Sorrels were placed over by the door, where they were leaving a puddle from the ice and snow outside. When Doc came inside the hospital, the outside temperature was dropping, and the 40-foot tall electric signboard on Airport Way had shown it to be a minus 51 degrees. Thankfully, the taxi he had taken was nice and warm, and they had no problem getting on post, though the driver, a Muslim, was wearing an off-white turban and this surprised Doc. But then he figured the MP’s and civilian Department of Defense Police had seen the man often enough. But he knew that made him just as dangerous, if not more. Insurgents or terrorists, whatever word they were likely to use would use someone who was known by the front gate defenders and who might gain easy entrance. Doc would make note of this and pass it down the line to the MP Provost Martial. Doc Adams could envision the next terrorist attack would come in a fleet of Yellow Cabs, and all these Muslim drivers were up here making test runs. A lot of explosives could be packed into a large cab.
Clay’s heavy blue parka with a wolf fur bordered hood lay on the floor, his new black Sorrel boots melting on the floor next to Doc’s pair. He was in a brown leather vest, a heavy blue and black patch long sleeve wool shirt and blue Levi’s, with a three-inch cuff. He needed to have the Levi’s hemmed but just hadn’t had time to get it done. He was wearing a pair of calf-length gray wool boot socks, but the left one was beginning to show heel ware and in need of mending. Clay was in the process of rolling up his sleeves, while Doc switched over to his second notebook. The steam heat was getting to him, too, and the next thing to go would be the vest. They both had good sized water bottles with them, and they had finished nearly half of them already. They wanted to open the door, which led directly into the large hallway, but the highly sensitive nature of their meeting prevented this.
“All right then, let’s go over that last part again,” Doc said. He held his pen in his right hand, and Clay noticed from their first meeting he was one of those pen chewers and probably used it to help him concentrate. But he knew some used it as a stress reliever and he wondered, which one might Doc be? Clay saw Doc glance over at the recorder, knowing he was ensuring it was still operating and then returned his attention to Clay.
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