William ‘Jerry’ BOYKIN: FAKE Christian who Ordered DELTA Soldier RAPES + Murders
I sent you this letter via your Kingdom Warriors website, but am posting it here in case it doesn’t reach you,.
In the early 80’s we called you Sir or Commander to your face, and G.I. Joe behind your back. Today you present as a highly decorated All-American Hero, a fundamentalist Christian complete with theology degree.
But I remember you differently.
I remember the time beneath Holsworthy, when our unit were sparring on the mat. We were at the drinks trolley when you ordered Jason’s murder. The Australian Delta soldier left behind a young brunette widow dressed in red. You killed him because he was my favourite.
I remember the time we were on the navy vessel, and you ordered the boys to tie a weight to my ankles and throw me into the sea, as part of some sick training exercise. I almost drowned. As the medic attended to me, the navy boys protested, ‘Man, this is fucked up!’ and the like. I asked you if I did good, and you replied with hint of conscience and regret: Yeah, you did good, soldier.
I remember the time you, the boys and I rode that helicopter over Honduras. You relied on me to detect whether that middle-aged dude sitting next to me at the door was dodgy. He wore a beige vest with pockets. I obeyed and, with stealth, told the co-pilot to change coordinates and signalled to you, ‘Drop Charlie.’ I returned to my seat. You gave the order for the boys to throw the man from the bird. I can still see the landscape and his limbs flapping as he screamed to his death.
And I remember the time at Dulce, when that communist General Al Gray stuck his member (being polite for all your duped Christian readers) in my mouth as I sat bound to Lt. Col. Michael Aquino’s torture chair.
My objection to being orally raped by Al landed the alcoholic pervert in hospital. As punishment, you ordered my three Delta team members to rape me that night. They bawled when they woke up out of their hypnotic trance. The following day, you commanded their throats be slit as they lay bound in that little cave in the hill outside – the one accessed via the pedestrian door.
Unlike you, I don’t get recognition for what I did. I don’t get to gather with my unit and reminisce about the old days – coz you killed them all. I don’t get to march in parades and display my medal of valour – coz I don’t exist on public record. I don’t qualify for a military pension and medical benefits…
Because I was just fourteen years old.
You’re no Born-Again Christian, Jerry. But I am. My God remembers everything you did – and so do I.