The Great Game continues. In its long and bloody history there have been periods of relative peace and tremendous violence. Through all, the subtle intrigue remained, only coming to the fore when national interests are at stake, as is the case now; with one major superpower vying for influence against many smaller nations, rich and poor, for the only truly valuable commodity currently left in the world. Oil. For this, countries still send their soldiers. But now under the guise of consultants and advisors instead of travelers and tradesmen. The present struggle is no longer strictly limited...

In March 1941, nine months before America entered the Second World War, President Roosevelt sent a battleship to collect a shipment of gold bullion from South Africa as part of the 'cash & carry' agreement between a beleaguered Great Britain and an isolationist United States Government. An agreement that, through Roosevelt's pressure in enabling the 1939 Neutrality Act, allowed the United States to sell war materiel to Great Britain and its allies. But the system was bankrupting the British Government by having to pay for everything it was using to sustain the war. Churchill said, "we are not...

Smokejumpers have over the years been the subject of much media attention, from National Geographic to Playboy to some ridiculous movies. The results in each only portray one side; fire. There is a lot more to becoming a smokejumper, however, and a lot more to staying one. Not only physically, financially, from getting laid-off every year, but from withstanding the constant barrage of a burdensome bureaucracy. This is not a sensationalized account. This is real, warts and all. Because of that, you may very well not like it. The primary star in this world, though, is not the jumper or the...

Outside, the world was stirring. Through the misty windows a new sun was widening the sky from the dark purple of twilight and turning the base of long fingers of rippled clouds to deep red. But forty miles to the north the ripples of red were from rivers of blood. In the middle of a frosty field pleasantly tinted by wood smoke, and rising high above Black Kettle's lodge on a tall angular tepee pole, an impotent American flag hung limp at dawn. Its presence was meant to afford protection to those camped near it; a suggestion holding a promise of Fort Lyon's commandant. But instead, it...