RESCUE PLATOON ---- --Feedback Box:


Part One

By David Maccabee

It started on a balmy, breeze-filled, moonlit night, in Tampa, Florida, at an impressive 3-story office building called "E-Z Abortion Clinic".

It was an excellent example of Spanish style architecture, surrounded by a manicured landscape, lavished with exotic plants and flowers. Such beauty, to hide the horror took place behind those walls six days a week!

The wind turned icy cold for a second, and it died, leaving an utter calm, as if nature were pausing give witness to what seemed to be happening. Then from the perspective of slow motion experienced by an observer with perception heightened by some dramatic event, the walls of the building slowly bulged out, giving the building the comical look of trying to inflate like a child’s balloon, for a split second.

Then windows shattered, and the building simply came apart at the seams. A small sun rose out of the roof, like a Phoenix rising from the ashes, into the moonlit night. A second later the building was shattered into millions of projectiles traveling for thousands of feet, followed by a thunderous blast that could be heard and felt for miles around. The blast rattled windows and set dogs howling crazily.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the light faded and silence crept in unawares.

It was an isolated building, so no other buildings nearby were hurt, except for some broken windows. Yet on the spot where the elegant building had stood was a massive crater, about 100 feet across and about 20 feet deep. It looked like a meteoroid had been flung down by the hand of God in judgment over the slaughter of the innocent children.

Yes, judgment from God had fallen, but instead of a stellar performance, God had used the stealth and cunning of a U.S. Marine. It was his hands that had wrought this wonder in God’s Army.

Hello, my name is James R. Moore. I am going to tell you, regardless of what the Feds may be saying, the truth about the rise and service of the A-0- G. ‘Rescue Platoon".

I am a 45-year-old retired Marine born in Lansing, Michigan. At age 18 1 followed my families long-standing military tradition spanning back to the Revolution, and joined the Marines. I loved to drive, so I gravitated to heavy equipment. I really liked tanks, so it wasn’t surprising that I joined an armored cavalry unit.

I read hundreds of books about military history by authors like Sun Tzu, Julius Caesar, Rommel, and Patten. I even found a battered and torn "Hardees Manual of Arms" which I treasured reading in my idle hours. Then I was called to go to Vietnam and live in a nightmare for a number of years, which I choose not to recall. I served ‘till the end, honor not permitting me to quit until it was over.

I got out and was beginning to turn to drugs, when a fellow vet came to visit one day. I was stunned to hear that he had become a "Christer." I asked how such a thing could happen to the scrappiest, drunkingest, womnanizingest soul to hit earth?!

He told me how he come to know Jesus as his Lord and Savior, and found true peace of heart. He could not escape the horrors of the war, but Jesus gave him a peace that had overcome the memories. He pulled out a wrinkled up dog-eared pocket New Testament from the Gideons and began to lead me down the Romans Road to Salvation.

I resisted, at first. But unknown to me, many people at his church were praying for me. I felt my heart yearning to believe that what he was saying was true. In the end, God prevailed. I surrendered. I gave my heart to the Lord and was born again.

I started going to Harold’s church, Full Gospel Center, and soon afterwards a ruling named Roe vs. Wade was handed down, that sentenced unborn babies to death - healthy babies killed, for no reason at all! We became involved in the growing Right To Life movement which, at the time, was composed of mostly Catholic brethren. Harold and I threw ourselves full force into the fledgling movement with our time and money. We campaigned for pro-life candidates and helped to set up Right To Life offices, and Crisis Pregnancy Centers.

Later we met a man named Randall Terry, a pastor who had taken the next step, civil disobedience, which most associated with the "sit-ins" from the Civil Rights movement. He now called them ‘Rescues’. They were called Rescues because their goal was to rescue unborn babies from their horrible fate.

The heyday of the movement started in 1984 at the convention center where the Democratic convention was being held in Atlanta. Rescues were going on non-stop. We prolifers were being brutally beaten and abused by the police. My arm was severely sprained as an overzealous officer applied a "compliance hold" on me.

As time went on, huge similar events unfolded in Wichita, Baton Rouge, and Buffalo. But in the reign of William Jefferson Clinton, the full force of the law was brought to bear on peaceful pro-lifers. Laws like F.A.C.E. and the strained application of RICO to pro-lifers, had a major impact, striking fear because of their intentionally vague wording- Rescues began dwindling in number because the new laws made

‘Rescues" federal comes. Even sidewalk counselors and picketers were caught in the cancer of fear. Many fell by the wayside as the toll of dead children rose higher each day.

Not all despaired. Groups like the Lambs of Christ, led by a "Father Doe", roamed the country saving children by the use of surprise and bicycle locks. Other groups, like Rescue America, continued to lay their lives down in love for their neighbors. But all who dared stand for the Word and for the babies felt the wrath of the legal system, and found themselves in jails with harsh sentences.

During this time Harold and I had been up at his cabin in Kamai, Idaho, with a group of 20 Vietnam vets. 19 of the group had special forces training and the 20th was a wife of the 19th. We trained. We were shaped into a compact fighting unit.

Many names were suggested. ‘James" said that since we had taken on the name of the much maligned An-ny of God, we should be a platoon, because of our number. Yeah! Another exclaimed, "we can call ourselves, 'The Rescue Platoon' because of our mission."1

A Brother in close contact with us supplied us with all the ordinance [ammunition] we could possibly want.

We formed after a kangaroo court railroaded a friend of mine, named Paul J. Hill, a Presbyterian minister. He was denied his choice of counsel [attorney]. He was denied permission to tell the jury his defense. So it was no surprise when he was given the death sentence.

Pastor Hill had taken up arms to protect over 30 precious unborn children—just that one day, not to mention the scores protected in the ensuing weeks -from a terrifying death by dismemberment. Hill had been forced to shoot the armed butcher and his armed bodyguard, to give the children a chance.

But the surprise came on June 15, 1998, when we woke up to find that Reverend Hill had been executed in the electric chair the night before, at midnight, in secret, to prevent demonstrations. This sent shockwaves throughout the nation and the world.

It was a time of quiet mourning and grief. His family received many calls of consolation, as well as financial help to keep the family going.

Then from deep, deep down in the soul of America, a righteous wrath began to wind its way to the surface of the hearts of many. In the Texas capitol, a session was called, and a hearing held, to discuss the ramifications of the incident.

These were the conditions when the "Rescue Platoon" came out of training and entered into active service in the Army of God. Our goal was to uphold the Constitution, which guarantees the Right to Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness. We established covert support within some of the larger pro-life groups, like the AC.L.A., and Life Dynamics. We filled our computer with all the addresses we could find of murder mills, clinic workers, clinic owners, and escorts. We acquired pictures to match the names. We bought maps.

We rented houses around the country through third parties who would keep them up as safe houses, with a spare vehicle. We were being leaked massive funds from upper echelons of the Right to Life movement. We bought a Greyhound bus, and transformed it into our mobile command center.

Our first surveillance mission would take everyone to Florida to stake out our first strike.

I packed. I left with a Brother named ‘Jake". We were to do surveillance work in Tampa, to confirm our information, and to scout and chart possible courses of action. Every freestanding mill in the state would be leveled, and a warning given to abortionists everywhere.

We were driving a two-passenger Hummer, taking videos, still pictures, and marking schedules for over a week before starting back to base. At the base, a video was made and copied for distribution on Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. This would be the day that we atoned for the slaughter of countless millions of children dying. This would be the day we would take our step to end the holocaust for good.

We made final preparations, and were soon on the road again to Tampa for our first strike from our Platoon. We arrived two days early, and rechecked the schedules. We made our move on the eve of Yom Kippur. I was going to do the setting, and Jake would be my eyes and ears, as a lookout and backup. We drove to the abortionist’s homes around 1:00 AM and planted exercise claymores [practice land mines which scatter red dye instead of shrapnel when they detonate] at the doors of their homes and garages, before going to the first murder mill, E-Z Clinic.

I had Jake park down the street, in a location that could cover the building pretty good. We put on and tested our cordless two-way radios. I grabbed a duffel bag and a tiny igloo cooler, and walked up to the mill. At the front door, I pulled out my lock-picking gun, jammed open the lock in less than a minute, and slipped inside to the alarm circuit board. I quickly punched in the 5 digit code I had observed through my telescope, and the light Turned from red to green, and the words "system deactivated" Flashed across a small screen.

I first located the bodies of the aborted children. I tenderly placed them in my cooler. Then I placed satchel charges in almost every room. I left the building around twenty minutes after 1:00, walked to the jeep, and we drove on to Femme Care, 5 miles away.

I had Jake again pair in a good spot, and I walked up to the building. I forced the lock in seconds this time, and walked over and deactivated the alarm system.

l sensed movement out of the comer of my eye and started to turn, when everything went white and all I could see was sparkles. Seconds, maybe two minutes later, when I came to, I found myself handcuffed and gagged. When my eyes focused, I looked up into the abyss of darkness down the barrel of a huge revolver. Behind the gun was a masked man. Another one came running up with a 5 gallon gas can in one hand and a gun in the other.

Next Month: Unexpected Deliverance




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