Naturally I didn't spend all my time at the Library of Congress, reading about Templars and Freemasons. Occasionally I had to go to work at DARPA. Mainly we were involved in over- seeing Defense projects regarding Directed Energy weapons. In common parlance, translate this into Lasers. Back then this was very new stuff, very cutting-edge.

Periodically I found myself back in New Mexico on field trips, but this time at the Sandia and Los Alamos Directed Energy Laboratories. Towards the end of my DARPA assignment, I was visiting Los Alamos. Somehow I found myself one evening at a cocktail party held in the Atomic Museum there. Fascinating locale for a party, to say the least.

But I note this, because I had an extremely scary experience at this party. There was a lot of buzz, people talking, laughing. Me too! Then I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and there was no one there. With a martini in hand, I stood there facing replicas of "Little Boy" and "Fat Man." These were the first two atomic bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, respectively.

Suddenly the buzz was gone. It was as if time had stood still. I felt as if I stood in a special space, enclosed by total silence. It was then that I heard a booming voice crying out, "I am become Death." Was it in my head, or was the voice from without? I'll never know. But I surely was struck by the words, in that I knew they were the Hindu lines that Robert Oppenheimer used when he first saw the test explosion of that early atomic bomb at the Trinity Site.

Eventually the noise of the cocktail party returned, but I still stood in place--nearly shocked by this strange experience that I just had. That night, back in my hotel room, I remained disturbed over this incident. What the heck was going on? Perhaps it was my conscience? I had helped develop advanced weapon systems nearly all my Army career. And during that time I never gave it a thought when it came to morality. The standards under which I operated were mainly amoral, necessities required for the Defense of the Nation. Indeed, most of the country during the period of the Cold War was wrapped-up in one way or another with the "Military-Industrial Complex."

But these "necessities" no longer seemed to hold water after this strange experience at the museum. The replicas of those first atomic bombs now represented human death and suffering beyond anything ever experienced before. And this prompted me to see beyond this to the death and suffering to come from these incredibly advanced weapons that we had been developing since those dreadful days at Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

I tried to steer away from the moral issues involved. Rather, I tried to rationalize the necessities. It's a tough situation, being embroiled in a Cold War in which both sides of the Iron Curtain kept evolving ever more sophisticated weapon systems. If one side did, the other had to do the same. It was a game of "tit for tat," only at incredibly dangerous levels. I suppose people involved in the front lines of this game of standoff had to ignore the morality--or lack of such-- because of the complexity of it all. If one were to stand down, well that would involve capitulation.

Yet, back in that hotel room, I came to persuade myself that now these very dangerous weapons may have become more a threat than the standoff between the two superpowers. Perhaps these weapons had reached a point where they were slipping away from our control. Other countries wanted into the game. Too many players, too much danger. More opportunities were arising for not only mishap, but malevolent employment when it came to these weapons of mass destruction.

"I am become Death" was a terrible warning resounding over and over in my mind. Thus, that very night I decided as soon as I could that I would retire from the Army. At the end of my DARPA assignment I would have enough years put in that I could receive a reasonably fair Army pension. Also, I never married nor had the responsibility of raising a family; so, consequently, I stacked much of my pay over the years into savings and investments. I could live comfortably just on these financial accounts, but--being still youngish--I figured that I would look into other kinds of employment.

After I retired, I did find almost immediate employment with the U.S. Arms Control Disarmament Agency (ACDA), which was connected with the State Department in Washington. What with my resume as an advanced weapons specialist, I was easily brought aboard as a fairly high-paid consultant. But this time around I was working at the other end of the spectrum, supporting arms control negotiating teams focusing on disarmament and the non-proliferation of weapons technology.

But turning swords into ploughshares is easier said than done! Yes, occasionally there were actual treaties signed, swearing off certain weapon systems. But they were usually weapon systems that were about to be disbanded anyway, because of their age. New, more powerful weapons always followed to take their place. I put my heart into the work at ACDA., but truthfully it was nearly a thankless job.

However, "History" entered into the picture and eventually curtailed the Military-Industrial Complex on both sides of the Iron Curtain. During 1989-1990, the Berlin Wall tumbled down. Communism eroded steadily in Eastern Europe; and by 1991 the Soviet Union, itself, dissolved. The Cold War was over. That very long Crusade was over. At this point I decided to step out of the war-world, in which I had literally been submerged my entire life.

Though we were the assumed winners of the Cold War, somehow I felt a strange sadness. Perhaps it was about leaving this war-world, leaving the familiar territories of the soldier, of the knight. Again I saw a certain correlation with the medieval Knights Templar. After decades fighting in the Crusades, it was suddenly over for them. Only they went down in defeat. Returning to their preceptories in Europe, they no longer seemed to have a purpose.

So--I felt that I had to make an entirely new life-changing move, and I did. I took myself to a monastery!