long as anyone could remember. One or two could be found there drinking coffee at the break of day, coffee freely provided by the store. And someone would be keeping watch on the bench late into the night—weather permitting. Some said Grandpa Martinez had the bench built right after World War I so returning vets would have a place to gather. He instituted the “free coffee to old timers” policy.
In the late nineteen forties the old timers’ bench was bolted to the cement so pranksters couldn’t move it. Some of the young men had hauled it to the top of the water tower on one occasion. It still received a new coat of paint each spring, but if you looked closely you could still see old timers’ initials carved into the slats.
In recent times, J.D. Boerne, Bob Smith and Delbert Robbins manned the bench by mid-morning. They admitted to swapping lies and watching traffic zoom through town. They seemed to be the only people willing to talk to strangers about John Chudders’ group. But they did that cautiously. “You better not mess with them folks, and git out’a here whil’ ya can,” J.D. warned.
When asked if they ever saw John Chudders, J.D. looked cautiously around to see who might be eves-dropping, then said, head shaking for emphasis, “Yeah, but he pretty much stays holed up out thar with his folks and as far as we know, he and his folks don’t bother nobody ‘roun here.”
If pressured to give directions, they would do so reluctantly with a further warning. “You jest head off down highway seventeen here til you come to a gravel road ‘bout four or five miles out and take a right. That’s eighteen thirty-two. Ya go on down there ‘til ya get to the Stevenson’s place,” Robbins said, in a tone of voice that suggested that he didn’t think you could find it.
Bob Smith, pointing in the direction of the mountains as he raised his right foot to rest it on the bench, said, “The road that goes up to them folks place is about a hundred yards beyond the Stevensons, but sometimes the sign’s tore down. That’s what we hear anyway.” His gaze turned to watch a cockroach scavenging for food on the curb.
Robbins, elbows on his legs as he leaned forward, walking cane in hand that he used to nervously tap the sidewalk, would chime in, “That’s true. And if ya find it, ya probably won’t make it on that road less ya’ got one a them four-wheel jobbies. Ya probably shouldn’t go up there in the first place. No one ‘round here thinks ‘bout going hunting anywhere nears them folks. We don’t want no trouble.” Then, he would casually gaze up and down the sidewalk to see who might be approaching.
J.D., taking his foot down off the bench as he stretched out and leaned back on the bench, said, “That’s true, sure ‘nuf.” But if ya go you’ll know you’re agit’n close when ya start seein’ them big ‘No Trespass’n’ signs. Ya better keep an eye out careful like from thar on. All them folks carry high-powered army guns and you may not see ‘em, but they’s a watchin’ ya from behin’ the cover of rocks. They’s liable to shoot ya! Yeah, they sure as hell will!”
“And don’t tell nobody we told ya how to get out there. We don’t want no trouble,” Robbins said. Both men eyed each other, and then gazed down the street in hopes the stranger would go away.
The family filled the church this frigid Sunday morning to hear John Chudders’ report on his trip to Thailand. A virus caught in Asia had kept him abed since returning, so all were eager to hear about the trip.
The males wore a mixture of military camouflage khaki-colored clothes and military-style combat boots. The women sported denim jeans with heavy wool-plaid shirts, while others wore pants or old-style men’s bib-overalls. All wore fleece-lined, military jackets and coats.
Sara Chudders, John’s senior wife, led the singing this snowy morning, as usual. One of Chudders’ daughters played the piano. Son-in-law, Jeb Harris, read the scriptures. Everyone present was related either by blood or marriage. When asked how many wives and children Chudders had, members of the group laughed saying, “Oh, dozens.” Or, “It’s nobody’s business.”
Chudders asked Jeb to read from the Book of Revelation, chapter 11:15-19:
Then the seventh angel blew his trumpet, and there were
loud voices in heaven, saying,
‘The Kingdom of the world has become
the kingdom of our Lord and of his
Messiah, and he will reign forever and ever.
Then the twenty-four elders who sit on their thrones before
God fell on their faces and worshipped God, singing
We give you thanks, Lord God Almighty,
who are and who were,
for you have taken your great power and
begun to reign.
The nations raged, but your wrath has come,
and the time for judging the dead,
for rewarding your servants, the prophets
and saints and all who fear your name
both small and great,
and for destroying those who destroy
the earth.
Chudders’ sermon lasted for almost three hours and seemed to excite everyone except the children. The network of kindred revolutionary spirits had been established worldwide, and they looked forward to the second coming of Jesus Christ. Finally, about the Thailand meeting, Chudders, looking exhausted as he leaned on the pulpit, said, “The time is a comin’ my family, when this nation will be cleansed of its sin and the wicked punished. I went with some other dedicated Christian men last month to meet some folks from other countries who might wanna help us in this fight.” He stepped back, took his handkerchief from his left rear pocket and wiped the sweat from his face.
After a few seconds, he leaned back on the pulpit and continued, “We had men from the Aryan Nations, Jubilee, Scriptures for America, The Order, KKK, Police Against the New World Order, and a lots a others. We share many things. We believe our White race is in critical danger, and we need to cleanse our nation of all them inferior races by whatever means. Second, we agreed there is a plot by big international companies and Jew families to create a single world government.”
Chudders paused for emphasis. After a few seconds he used his right finger in a stabbing motion, as he said menacingly, “Which they’ll control. Third, we agreed that our own gover’ment is the enemy of our race and is guilty of treason.” Again he paused for emphasis, then leaned over the pulpit and yelled, “And the penalty for treason has always been death!”
He straightened up, wiped the sweat from his increasingly red face, then continued, “Our foundin’ fathers unnerstood this, for they wrote the Declaration of Independence, saying it’s the ‘right’ and ‘duty’ of the people to throw off a wicked and ungodly gover’ment.”
Chudders motioned to one of his sons to bring him a chair, which he placed on the edge of the dais. He continued, “The A-rabs seem to wanna help us with arms and money. We told them we didn’t want them meddl’in in our cause in any other way. We can share information and resources, but we told ‘em that when we succeed we don’t want no meddling in our business. We hope they’ll eventually kill each other off over there.”
At
