It was in the earlier part of November, 2005 when I was called to the garrison HQ to receive an emergency Red Cross message informing me that my grandfather had passed away. I was in my third year of service as a direct contractor to the Army and my duty station was in Iraq. More specifically, I was at Tallil AFB near the city of An Nasiriyah. I was granted an emergency leave so that I could go back to the US to be with my family so I stowed my gear, packed my duffel and made the long trip home. This was the first time I would make this trip, but I’m getting ahead of myself so let me back up a bit. You see, my grandfather had served in the Second World War, actually both of them had. They were brothers. PFC Eddie Kassab, the one I’m speaking about here, had survived WWII through some pretty tough odds, including being on the third wave of the Normandy invasion at D-Day where thousands had died during the beach head assault. His brother, SFC Joseph Kassab, who married my grandmother, was killed in that war, He was a bombardier and his plane was shot down during the Guadalcanal campaign. It wasn’t until 27 years later that the wreckage of the aircraft and remains were found and recovered. When Joseph died leaving behind his young wife and new born son, Eddie began looking after her, sending home money for her and the boy, my father. They wrote back and forth to eachother after the dissappearance of Joseph and when he returned to the US after the war they courted and were eventually married. Joseph was laid to rest with the rest of his flight crew in Arlington with full military honors. Eddie, who died much later in life, was also afforded a military service there. That was my first time being in Arlington National Cemetery, a place reserved for men and women who had served their country in a military capacity. It is difficult to describe just how immense and powerful that place is, the impact you have on your life just from standing on those grounds is indescribable. If I had to try I would say it’s a mixed feeling of Honor, pride, sorrow, and a profound sense of loneliness. There are row upon row of white marble markers spanning miles of emerald green grass and broad shade trees. The markers themselves are simple, nothing fancy, but the respect they command is beyond contestation. There are also wall vaults for those who were cremated, one of these would become Eddie’s final resting place. The US Army's honor guard performed his service, while a trumpeter played “Taps” and his flag was folded and presented on behalf of a grateful nation to my father who Eddie raised as his own son. In the distance a 21 gun salute was given by seven riflemen firing three shots each. It would be the only time in my life that I saw my father cry. We took the time after Eddie’s service to walk to Joseph’s grave marker as well, passing thousands of other markers and I found myself wondering how many of these people were forgotten by the years. How many of them left behind young children. Were they killed in combat? How many of them were laid to rest with a grave full of unfulfilled dreams? The sacrifices they made weighed heavily upon me. It was a feeling I would carry with me long after I had left that place.
Years had passed and I found myself still working in Iraq for the US Army, I was stationed at Camp Taji this time, on the edge of Sadr City, a real dust bowl. I was in my eighth year of service when I was again called to Garrison HQ, another emergency Red Cross message had come through informing me that my Father had passed away. It was December 29th 2010. For hours afterward it felt as if I had been punched in the gut. I called my Mom as soon as I could to make sure she was ok and to see if there was anything she needed before making arrangements for yet another emergency leave. I again stowed my gear, packed my duffel and headed out. Now, it’s only fair to give you an idea of whom I’m talking about here, my Father, Jan, had been a Navy man and had been stationed on submarines as well as destroyer class ships during the Vietnam War. He signed up for service when he was just 18 years old and when he left the Navy he went directly into the Maitland Fire Department in central Florida and stayed there for many years. Eventually he expanded his training becoming the 80th paramedic in the state as well as a certified rescue diver and instructor. More importantly, he was a great father who raised two boys as a father should and later in life, he was a pretty good drinking buddy. His teachings and advice have helped me through some of the toughest times in my life. It was because of his prior military service that he was also awarded full military honors at Arlington National Cemetery. There was a waiting list of about 8 weeks at the time because of the high volume of casualties from the wars in the Middle East so it wasn’t until February of 2011 that he was finally laid to rest. This time it was the US Navy’s honor guard who performed his service. I remember it well; they stood in their dress whites throughout the ceremony in the biting cold as the wind whipped by mercilessly.  The honor and discipline in these men was no less than awe inspiring and through my sadness I couldn’t help but feel an amazing sense of pride for who my father was during his life. We all stood as a trumpeter again played “Taps” to the folding of my Father’s flag which was presented to my Mom on behalf of a grateful nation after a 21 gun salute was ordered in the distance. My Father’s remains were also placed in a wall vault that became his final resting place; his marker being only about 20 feet from Eddie’s marker in the adjacent wall and even though it was freezing that day, we took a little extra time to visit Eddie and Joseph again. Walking the grounds of that place again awakened all the feelings I had felt the first time, probably even more so. Again, I have to tell you that words couldn’t accurately describe how that place makes you feel. The grass had turned brown by now but was still immaculately manicured, and the precision placement of the grave markers was flawless. There were thousands of names that dated all the way back to the American Civil War. I went also with my brother to pay my respects at the tomb of the Unknown Soldier. It was an impressive mausoleum that is guarded twenty four hours a day by the US Army’s horror guard.  After it was all said and done and we had left Arlington and met as a family, my Mom, my Brother and his family, myself and my family and some close friends to remember him for a while over some food and drinks, and though nobody seemed to really have any appetite we still stayed there for hours. That was the first time in eight years that I had seen my Brother and would be the last time I saw him alive, but that part comes later. Eventually we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways, each having a very long way to travel back home and I had to get ready to go back to Iraq, heavy hearted or not.
I had only been back in theater (that means deployment) for a few months when I was reassigned to Al Asad AB as my permanent duty station. It was a place in the middle of nowhere and was originally a Marine base but transferred to Army and Air Force some time in 2010. I had made some good friends there, settled in and finally started coming back to myself when I received a message from my brother’s wife asking me to call her, said it was important. Thinking back on it now, I remember feeling a little angry that she wouldn’t tell me on email. Internet I had in my room, but a phone…well I’m no general and I had already settled in for the night. It was about 21:30 hrs. (9:30 p.m.) on a night in late July so I got dressed and made the quarter mile walk to my office where I could use the phone, cursing under my breath the whole time. It took me about 20 minutes just to find my phone card in my cluttered desk drawer, but when  I finally did amongst more unsavory mutterings I made the call. She answered quickly enough but her voice sounded strained so I calmed down and asked her what was going on, I figured something wasn’t right so she didn’t need me jumping her case on top of it. It was then that she told me my Brother’s body had been found in his home in Whiteville NC. He had been having a hard time with depression since our Father passed as well as marital problems and he had made the decision to take his own life at the age of 36 leaving behind his Wife, Stepson and Daughter who was only 5 at the time. I was blindsided to say the least, no one saw this coming, and he left no real reason as to why so there still is no closure, no understanding. I was angry… no, I was furious! But I’m getting ahead of myself again. She had called me not only to inform me of what had happened, but also to ask if I had Mom’s phone number because she didn’t have it and didn’t know how to get in touch with her to tell her. I told her not to worry about it and that I’d take that on my shoulders and get back to her. It had only been five months since we laid our Father to rest and to say I dreaded making that phone call was a ridiculous understatement. It was easily one of the toughest things I ever had to do, but it had to be done all the same so I dug Mom’s number out of my wallet…and stared at it…I don’t know how long but it felt like a long time. What else could I do? What could I say? It’s not like I had an instruction booklet for delivering bad news and this was as bad as it gets. After a few deep breaths I dialed her number and decided to take the direct approach. She answered the phone and we exchanged hellos, and I asked her what she was doing. She was out shopping with Robbie at the Tractor Supply Co. He was a longtime family friend and all around good guy. I told her that I had some pretty bad news and asked if she could find a place to sit down there, but she told me it was ok to just tell her what happened so I did exactly that. I gave her all the information I had at the time, I didn’t know how to sugar coat it so I didn’t. She took it pretty well up front, not breaking down until later that evening. My Brother, SPC Troy Kassab, had enlisted in the US Army with our Father’s permission when he was only 17 years old. He was a combat medic assigned to Ft. Carson in Colorado before transferring to the 82nd Airborne Division in Ft Brag NC. He deployed to Cuba among other deployments overseas before being attached to a Ranger Unit as their medic and doing other deployments that he never would talk about much. After the army he lived in NC where he worked in restaurants while attending school on the G.I bill and volunteering on the Hickory Rescue Squad as an EMT. He eventually completed school in Winston Salem NC where he got his PA degree in general practice. Troy was a self-educated, brilliant man who wasn’t perfect but who is? He saved lives in the Army, and then continued to do so in the civilian world until his death in July of 2011. He was a husband and a father, a brother and a friend. He was important to us. It was because of his past in the Army that he also was awarded full military honors at Arlington National Cemetery. This time the wait was much longer and his funeral wasn’t held until November 15th of 2011. I remember that day and the days leading up to it like it was yesterday. I had ended my deployment in Iraq on November 3rd, making it back to the US on November 6th. From the time of his death I had stayed in contact with Mom and his wife Andi to make sure they were ok and help in any way I could with the affairs and expenses. When I finally did get home I pulled my truck out of storage had it inspected, fueled and ready to go. It was unfortunate, but my wife was in college and had work at the time so she couldn’t come with us so my daughter and I made the long trip from Houston TX to Hickory NC to see Troy’s wife and kids. While I was there I also picked up a close family friend of ours who needed a ride and made the long drive to Arlington VA...again. The US Army’s honor guard met us there to perform his service and again the attention to detail, the respect given to the deceased, and the discipline shown was flawless. There were more friends this time than family in attendance but I was there with Mom, Robbie, my daughter, and some very close family friends, some going all the way back to our childhood. The ceremony was the same, every time the same. I remember thinking I hated the way “Taps” sounded as they folded the flag and I was angry and hurt when I stepped forward to claim my Brother’s remains and walk them to the wall vault that would become his final resting place. I have to say though, that through my grief and anger, I was a little bit pleased to see that he was placed so close to my Father and Grandfather. I left a pair of my own dog tags in his vault, it made me feel better that he wouldn’t be alone in there. I guess it doesn’t make a lot of sense now but at the time it did.  I stood over his marker and said a silent prayer before heading out to see Dad, Eddie and Joe’s markers and pay some respects. The grass was that brilliant emerald green again, and the sense that I stood in a place of honor reserved for our nations fallen still struck me through the heart.  After that we just kind of faded away from that place making our way home. Troy’s wife Andi had decided not to come, she was angry, she felt betrayed and abandoned, so on my way home I stopped back in Hickory NC, dropped off Michelle and made the drive to Andi’s house to present her with Troy’s flag as it had been presented to me. I remember hoping that her decision wouldn’t leave her with later regrets, but it was too late to change it now. The drive home was a long one, one that rekindled so many unanswered questions. Three generations of my family laid to rest leaving me as the only surviving male member of my family; something that still weighs upon my heart today.
But this is their story, and though it seems a sad one, that is not its intent. This story was written so that you the reader could understand that there is a place where over a hundred thousand Josephs and Eddies, and Jans and Troys are resting.  Each one of those stone crosses and stars have a face, a name, a history, and they made a sacrifice for you and for me. They were people who gave up their futures so that we could have one. They were people who had dreams, families, and who put all of that aside for what they believed in. They weren’t perfect people, but they deserve to be remembered. If you do nothing else after reading this, at least take the time to think about the freedoms that you have, freedoms that have cost us so much…

Ms. Minerva’s
Helpful Hints and a guide through life



Ms.Minerva…
Born September 1885….died September 1976, 91 years old.  She didn’t marry until she was 45 and had her first child that year.  Getting married at 45 was something that didn’t happen to often for women back then, especially a black woman.  Then low and behold 5 years later: what the doctor called her second tumor, she had her second and last child at 50, a baby girl and her change of life in one shot.
        But her true joy came along 17 years later at 67….only being a mother for 22 years; she was now a grandmother……that’s where I came in!  My mother’s oldest child and Ms Minerva, my grandmother’s baby boy……..Mama!!

    It is important to tell you that from here on, the stories will be in no certain order….they’re as I remember them.  As I found understanding, THE LIGHT, as she called it.
MS. MINERVA’S HELPFUL HINTS…
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[Song – Higher & Higher]
This song became her theme song for a while:  Love, knowledge taking you higher!!  Ms Minerva (Mama) the first career women I knew.  In 1967, she heard this song and realizes that this song talked about what kept her going…LOVE!  Love took her higher and higher and it was love that she shared………with me!

MM: “Boy, you might not understand what I’m telling you, but remember it remember all you hear, see, taste and feel….. because understanding come with time and when you ready for it!”
Knowledge……. Love………Understanding……Enlightenment take us higher.

How?  How did a black woman in south Louisiana go out, have a career, a family with little education but wise beyond her years.  Oh, when I say career woman I mean a cook, maid, nanny but mama said,

MM: “those jobs keep us going and I was one of the best, always be the best at what you do…greatness comes in all sizes!”


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Another thing I should say is: some of the stories that I will share have not been documented as fact.  They were hers that she shared with me…..
Like one night watching TV…….

MM: Lord, Lord, Lord…
CC:  What’s the matter Mama?
MM:  Did I ever tell you about when I worked at an all boys’ school in New (N’Orleans) Orleans.  I was the one who stayed with the boys at
night.  Well, there was one lil’ boy that was always
sneaking out of bed going outside playing his horn.
I would take it from him and beat his ****.  The day
they give it back to him, that night he would sneak outside
again.  Beating his **** didn’t help, he just kept sneaking out
no matter how long we kept the horn.
CC: What happen to him mama?
She pointed to the TV and said:
MM:  There he is……


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Louie Armstrong singing HELLO DOLLY raise in an all boys home in New (N’Orleans) Orleans….was this true……I don’t know.  Did and do I believe it….YES!
This was also one of the times I receive one of ….Ms Minerva’s Helpful Hint:

MM: You can be anything you want if you believe
and have the passion for it! Believe in
your passion because you are your passion
and you must always believe in you….yourself!  
No matter what others say or think….it’s you who
must believe!

Believing, she was a big believer. she believed in people and the good in them.


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MM:  Always see the positive in people, in everything thing.
No matter how negative someone or something is
there is always an ounce of positive…..go for the positive,
it will always carry you through and shine light

Everywhere, positive light.

I often wonder how someone so positive in my life, who taught me to look up and be strong could be so down on her daughter , my mother.  When I was sent to fly with the eagles she was told to stay on earth.  This was one of my confusions, I knew there was a lot of love there between them but so hard for them to share……Understanding comes with time.

When I was 7 years old I was sent to the kitchen to cook for a family of 5.  It wasn’t what you think.  At 72 years old Ms. Minerva wasn’t seeing things to well. So, instead of saying; Old woman you need to stop, you’re losing it.  She was told; “It’s time for Curtis to start learning how to cook, he needs to know how to take care of himself.”  So, what I thought was a prison

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sentence became some of the most wonderful and important times of my life……
I was allow to be a child and do the things children do but at 5, maybe 5:30 I went to spend my hour or two with Ms. Minerva, my best friend…..learning the secrets of the kitchen and of life.

MM:  you have got to know how to take care of yourself.
I won’t be here to take care of you but I’ll always
be watching over you, I'll always be with you!

Like a lot of things, I didn’t get it then, but I do now:

One day, I was tormenting my grandfather….Oh I haven’t and won’t say much about him because that is a whole other story, but I’ll share this much with you:
  His name was Tower Jackson Sr. better known as Bud (papa to me).  He was born in December of 1880 and died in 1969, it’s funny but I don’t remember the month or day, it just kinda went a way.  Anyway, I think he
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was married once before Ms Minerva…that’s what he said.  He had a daughter…Aunt Traci….who was old enough to be my mother’s mother.  Remember THE COLOR PURPLE he was kinda like Mister and Old Mister but not as bad.  But Ms Minerva wasn’t Ms Celia…she was more like Sophia. Papa loved me unconditionally and he was my playmate but I don’t think he realized that point but I had a great time.

Back to one of the days I was tormenting him…he was finish with me and he got up and came after me…he was between 75 or 80.  I starting running and he came after me.  We lived in a house that was once a duplex, I ran out of his room, which was in the middle of the house, took a left and headed for the kitchen and the back door, that was open to freedom.  I got to the kitchen and I could see the back door standing open and waiting for me….  But out the corner of my eye, I see Ms. Minerva washing dishes.  I turn right, then a sharp left and I’m almost to the door…..just then an arm reach out and push the door close…..I can’t stop……I hit the door and fall to the floor.  Just before papa grab me to start the whipen’ and mama looks down at me and say:      

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MM: Boy, didn’t I tell you to stop running in my house and don’t every run away!”
Well, it was all over.  I got a whipin’…one I would never forget.  Papa felt so guilty he took me for Ice Cream almost everyday for a week.
But later that day…….Ms Minerva’s helpful hint:

MM:  Baby the reason I don’t want you running, especially when
you’re scared, is because you’ll be running for the rest
of your life.  When you run out of fear you’re only
running from yourself.  No matter what people think
or what’s happening stand and face it…Don’t Run!
Believe in yourself and you can beat it.

I didn’t really understand what she was saying, but when I’m scared I hear her voice and I stand (sometime that old confusion comes in with my mother) but most time I stand, face it and deal with it.  Growing, Changing and changing and growing!  Stronger everyday.


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I remember when I was 12, it was a Sat and a beautiful day and Ms. Minerva called me into the house.  It wasn’t time for cooking and it was Sat but I went:
MM:  I need to talk to you.
CC: Mama can we talk later I’m playing.
MM:   No, I want and need to talk to you NOW!. let’s cook.

I knew that was it.  When she says: “let’s cook” the battle was over, she felt it was important.  We got to the kitchen and started pulling stuff out …
MM: You’re special
CC:  No, no don’t start this again.
MM:  No, no, no you’re special! You’re a *****, a punk, *****…

There were a few other choice colorful names…Then she said:

MM:  Now that someone that loves you, truly loves you have
called you these names they can’t hurt you.  You’re gay
and it’s not something I would chose for you but it’s

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who you are.  But it makes you more special and wonderful because you are different. You are my special, but it’s only apart of you and your life, not your whole life or the whole you.  You can chose to practice or not.  You are made up of many parts, many yous…..Be Proud of who you are! Never hang your head, You will be a great man…even greater because you know who and what you are.

That day, I knew what love was and what love is.  Unconditional Love.  I was Proud to be who and what I was and who and what I was to become.  Proud of Who I Am and What I Am.

Music was always heard in my house, all kind, mama believed in   experiencing everything in everyway.
MM:  You need to know about it all, don’t let ignorance
be your down fall.  That’s what’s wrong with most folk,
they just don’t know and don’t want to learn.  Education
is freedom; knowledge is light….don’t ever stand
in the dark, you’ll only hurt yourself.

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There were a few things I didn’t learn or just didn’t remember.  Remember I said; she didn’t like running in her house.  Well, when I was a kid I was a runner, a mover, didn’t want to get caught…so I just kept moving.   Well, one day my mother was going to whip my ****, I don’t even know why this time but she grab my arm and I just started running around her and every time I heard the belt hit…I would yell.  I think I might have gotten hit once or twice but my mother’s legs, oh boy, but she kept going and so did I.
Then I heard the voice…….
MM:  Sister, what are you doing?
Sister, that’s what everyone called my mother, even me.  she sat down in her chair
MM: Bring that boy over here and let me show you
how to do that.

The she put me on my knees and stuck my head between her knees and turn her feet in and locked her knees.  My ears were hurting but not compared to how my **** was going to feel.  Then I heard……

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MM:  Now, see you got wide-open ****!

Then the whipping began and it was one I’d never forget and the whole time she just kept talking to my mother…..I can hear her and feel the belt now..

MM:  Girl you need to get out of the way and stop making
it so hard.  Just breathe and believe, it’ll come together….
Now, go put something on your legs.

It took me awhile to start breathing but I did and I remembered what she said; “Just breathe and believe.” and when I don’t I just remember that belt on my ****.
Whenever people hear this story, they’re shocked, confuse…well, this was a different time and Ms. Minerva was a different kind of woman.  A wipen' wasn’t something that happen everyday, I never ended up in the hospital and I was shower with love….. a different day – a different time.
              


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Around that time I remember I went through my Ultra Black stage.  I had some problem at school and I hated all white people and I was very
vocal about it.  Mama, just listen and I went on and on and on….and somewhere in there she hit me and it shocked and stopped me in my tracks.  Then she looked at me and said:
MM:  Who spit on you?  Who’s bus did you sit on the back of?  
Who’s kitchen or yard did you work in?  Nothing, nothing has happen to you that bad to hate…..Don’t hate it takes to much energy.  Remember the positive.  Some white people are ignorance and you have to educate them.  You can’t be just one thing in America you have to know about all……people and things.  There will come a time in America when people will be more than just one race, we have and are mixing it up.  LEARN…we are all connected, we are all one, and we are all God!














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One other thing about my grandfather (Bud)…he had a scar over his right eye and I always asked him about it and he would say, “Go ask mama.”  But being a kid I would forget and then ask him again.  Well one day I remembered to ask Mama how he got the scar.  

MM: Who told you to ask me?

CC:  Papa……..

She started laughing and told me to sit down……

MM: One day papa came home and had decided he was going to beat me.  Someone had told him that I would take it because I should feel lucky he married an old woman.  So, he came in and hit me!  I had the broom in my hand (I had just finish sweeping) and I took that broom and started beating him with it until I broke the handle on his head.  But he kept coming and backed me up to the mantle where I had my teacups. (She collected cups and saucer) and I begin throwing them at him and when I realize I was breaking my cups…. I got mad and threw them harder and one hit him over the eye…. He stopped and went down…it was a bad cut.

cc:  What did you do?

MM:  I stepped over him and finishing cooking.  I knew he would live and I saw it didn’t hit him in the eye and it gave him something to remember this moment.  You have to leave a mark on people to remember you by….. hopefully it’s a positive mark but sometime it might have to be an ugly one.  People will treat you the way you let them and there will be time you have to show and leave them something to remember it by.  Don’t go through life getting beat up especially by yourself.

There were a few times I didn’t follow that bit of advice…...but understanding, the light came in time.


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MM:  You have to open up and let people in --- because a lot of times you see yourself through them and don’t you want them and yourself to see the truth?  THE TRUE YOU!

Early mornings were wonderful for Ms. Minerva:

MM:  Morning is my time to talk to Me and God and get us together for the day.  Some folks don’t know that they are God….your positive energy creates your world and parts of the world of others.  When you create you must be honest, positive, loving……God!  So, my quiet times in the morning is finding honest, positive, loving, creative things and feeling…..finding God in me!!!!!!!!

(Song – Amazing Grace)


One night while watching TV; we watched a lot of TV…..watching TV and cooking…anyway, it was the Mitch Miller Singers and Leslie Uggams was singing:

MM:  That’s a cute little colored girl.
CC:  Mama, we’re not colored anymore, we’re Black.

There was silent and then a sigh….

CC:  What’s the matter mama?
MM:  I’ve been *****, colored and a few other names that I don’t want to talk about and now I’m Black……I wish they would make up their minds what I am!

Then she told me:

MM:  No matter who or what people think you are…You have to know yourself, people will always try to make you into what they want you to be but the final choice is yours. You Must Know Curtis.

Her helpful hints could and would come anytime, anywhere:
MM:  life is a lesson to learn…never, never stop learning!
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Whenever I talk about Ms. Minerva I realize how much she means to me and how good it makes me feel because I see how good it makes others feel……people showing me…..Me and Ms. Minerva.

The day Ms. Minerva died I was in Shreveport/Bossier, LA in the Air Force, it was September 1976.  I was at work in the printing plant at Barksdale AFB.  My boss told me the commander wanted to see me, he was acting a little strange but at the time I didn’t think much of it.  Walking out to my car my best friend ran out after me and said he was going with me….”they call for me too.”  We got in the car laughing and talking about all the things they coul

in search of closure,
I kneel on the ground
and pray to the god of sky
and ask him to take back gray
give me my blue sky
In search of solace,
I met a lot of travelers
With stories of unrequited love and
Hope for love in their eyes

The drought ended after 50 days
For to be back at my door in 5 days
A friendship built on love bond
The bond broke, I’ve nowhere to run
I turned into a ghost, never slept through the night
Cried all day long, a never ending torture
Without getting sight with tears in my eyes

This day, (Nov 3) 27 years and 8 months ago (approximately), we got the surprise of a lifetime. We were on the pill but got pregnant regardless. Four and a half months later we get stunned once more although we didn't think that possible, TWINS? I yelled. On November 3, 1991, Homestead AFB, FL, at 4:58 pm Julian blessed our family and at 5:02 pm Dennis completed the blessing and made our family whole. They were a month early, Julian weighed 5lbs 10oz while Dennis weighed only 5lbs, they only spent an extra day in the hospital and came home with us sooner and stronger than we expected. They were born fighters, beating odds and obstacles and exceeding expectations and goals in education, career, and life that continue to make their parents extremely proud and happy...beyond belief!!! Happy Birthday Julian Maldonado and Dennis (Linuz) Maldonado, the best sons anyone can have, I feel really honored to be your father!

In 1962, the U.S. Joint Chiefs of Staff unanimously proposed state-sponsored acts of terrorism on American soil, against American citizens. The head of every branch of the US armed forces gave written approval to sink US ships, shoot down hijacked American planes, and gun down and bomb civilians on the streets of Washington, D.C., and Miami. The idea was to blame the self-inflicted terrorism on Cuba's leader, Fidel Castro, so the American public would beg and scream for the Marines to storm Havana. The public learned about Operation Northwoods 35 years later, when the Top Secret document was declassified by the John F. Kennedy Assassination Records Review Board. Among other things, Operation Northwoods proposed:- Faking the crash of an American passenger plane. The disaster was to be accomplished by faking a commercial flight from the US to Jamaica, and having the plane boarded at a public airport by CIA agents disguised as college students going on vacation. An empty remote-controlled plane would follow the commercial flight as it left Florida. The commercial flight's pilots would radio for help, mention that they had been attacked by a Cuban fighter, then land in secret at Eglin AFB. The empty remote-controlled plane would then be blown out of the sky and the public would be told all the poor college students aboard were killed._- Using a possible NASA disaster (astronaut John Glenn's death) as a pretext to launch the war. The plan called for "manufacturing various pieces of evidence which would prove electronic interference on the part of the Cubans" if something went wrong with NASA's third manned space launch. _- Blowing up buildings in Washington and Miami. Cuban agents (undercover CIA agents) would be arrested, and they would confess to the bombings. In addition, false documents proving Castro's involvement in the attacks would be "found" and given to the press. _- Attacking an American military base in Guantanamo with CIA recruits posing as Cuban mercenaries. This involved blowing up the ammunition depot and would obviously result in material damages and many dead American troops. As a last resort, the plan even mentioned bribing one of Castro's commanders to initiate the Guantanamo attack. That deserves repeating: the Pentagon considered using our tax dollars to bribe another country's military to attack our own troops in order to instigate a full-scale war.