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Coronel v. CA and Alcaraz

Luis Coronel

Caso Coronel Aldana

A ______________ is the smallest military unit, typically consisting of 3-5 soldiers and working closely within a tactical operation. A ______________ consists of 8-12 soldiers and is led by a squad leader. A ______________, typically consisting of 30-50 soldiers, is commanded by a lieutenant and subdivided into smaller squads. The ______________ is a company-level unit of about 100-200 soldiers, typically commanded by a captain. A ______________ is made up of several companies, usually commanded by a lieutenant colonel, and consists of 300-1,000 soldiers. A ______________ typically consists of 3-5 battalions, is commanded by a colonel, and can operate independently in large-scale operations. A ______________ is made up of several brigades and is commanded by a major general, usually numbering 10,000-20,000 soldiers. A ______________ is a larger military formation made up of multiple divisions, commanded by a lieutenant general. The term ______________ refers to units designed for direct engagement with enemy forces, such as infantry, armor, and artillery. ______________ is a branch specializing in close-combat tactics and foot soldiers, serving as the backbone of ground forces. ______________ units provide long-range firepower to support ground forces, using cannons, howitzers, and rocket systems. ______________ are specialized units equipped with tanks and other armored vehicles for breakthrough and exploitation missions. The ______________ is responsible for building infrastructure like bridges, roads, and fortifications in combat and non-combat settings. The ______________ provides protection against nuclear, biological, and chemical weapons on the battlefield. ______________ are elite units trained for unconventional warfare, counter-terrorism, and specialized missions. ______________ are responsible for maintaining law and order within military ranks and ensuring security in both combat zones and bases. ______________ provide medical care to soldiers, ensuring health and emergency treatment in battlefield conditions.

A Brief History of Washington’s Crossing of the Delaware River, Christmas Night 1776... In the fall of 1776, General George Washington and his army had suffered a series of defeats at the hands of the British Army. The Continental Army had lost every battle with the British in the New York campaign: Long Island, Manhattan, Brooklyn Heights, Harlem and White Plains and had surrendered Fort Washington and Fort Lee. At Fort Lee, the army barely escaped and was forced to leave behind its store of provisions, ammunition, and many of its weapons. A sense of defeat had settled around Washington as he was forced to retreat across New Jersey in November and finally to Pennsylvania on December 8, 1776. The British, at least, considered the war over. By December 11th, the only reason the British had not taken Philadelphia, the seat of the Continental Congress, was that Washington had ordered every boat in the Delaware River on the New Jersey side to be brought to the Pennsylvania side, thus denying the British army transportation. Washington knew that the British would be capable of resuming an offensive by crossing the Delaware once it iced over. As the harsh winter set in, the morale of the American troops was at an all-time low. The soldiers were forced to deal with a lack of both food and warm clothing, while Washington watched his army shrink because of desertions and expiring enlistments. Now, more than ever, a victory was desperately needed. Washington devised a courageous plan to take the offensive and cross the Delaware River on Christmas night and attack the Hessian garrison at Trenton, New Jersey, nine miles south of his encampment near McConkey's Ferry. The original plan called for three divisions to cross the Delaware under the cover of darkness. Lt. Col. John Cadwalader's division was to cross at Bristol and engage the southern most contingent of British forces — Hessian troops under the command of Colonel von Donop. General James Ewing's division was to cross at Trenton Ferry and take a position south of Assunpink Creek below Trenton and hold the bridge over that stream. Washington's division was to cross at McConkey's Ferry and then divide into two corps under General Nathanael Greene and General John Sullivan. Their point of attack was Trenton and the Hessian troops quartered there under the command of Colonel Johann Gottlieb Rall. The boats to be used for the crossing were gathered earlier in the month in compliance with General Washington's orders, primarily as a defensive measure. Various types of boats had been collected, most notably the large Durham boats used to carry pig iron down the Delaware to the Philadelphia markets. There were a number of problems in moving a large number of men, cannons, and supplies in an age when overland transportation was by foot and animal power. The roads were rutted and winding. There were no bridges over major rivers because the technology did not exist to span great distances. A river like the Delaware was crossed by ferry, sometimes out of service because of ice floes or floods, and certainly not designed to carry masses of men and equipment across quickly. A river could be a formidable natural barrier to an army on the move. Washington had several logistical concerns for the crossing. In addition to the troops were the cannon; each of which required at least two horses to pull it. The heavier twelve pounders, and probably the eight pounders, had four horses. There would have been between four and six ammunitions wagons. Officers of the rank of colonel or higher may have had horses. In sum, Washington had to move 2,400 men, eighteen cannons, at least four ammunition wagons and fifty to seventy-five horses across the Delaware River the night of December 25, 1776. Fully expecting to be supported by Cadwalader's and Ewing's divisions south of Trenton, Washington assembled his own troops near McKonkey's Ferry in preparation for the crossing. By 6:00 pm, 2,400 men had begun crossing the ice-chocked river. There was an abrupt change in the weather, forcing the men to fight their way through sleet and a blinding snowstorm. The river was flooded with sheets of ice moving at eleven or twelve miles per hour. These obstacles proved to be too much for the two supporting divisions led by Generals Cadwalader and Ewing, who did not cross at their assigned points along the river. It was Washington's pure force of will and determination that led to his troops' successful crossing of the river. Increasing Washington's odds were the sailors of Marblehead, Massachusetts. This group of hardened seamen, led by Col. John Glover, were used to the Nor'easters of New England. Sheer determination and muscles conditioned to the demands of rowing under the weather conditions now facing the Continental army enabled the Marbleheaders to row back and forth across the Delaware countless times. During the time of the Revolution, American soldiers marched single file along the margins of the roads. They were only assembled into a battle line (three deep) when they reached the battlefield. The battle plan had Washington's army marching in two divisions... General Greene's and General Sullivan's. They made a night march in two columns on separate roads, a very tricky operation that was prone to failure since the columns needed to arrive at the battlefield at the same time to carry out the surprise attack planned by Washington. The American army carried out the march flawlessly. Against all odds, Washington and his men successfully completed the crossing and marched to Trenton on the morning of December 26th and, in the resulting battle, achieved a resounding victory over the Hessians. By moving ahead with his bold and daring plan, General Washington reignited the cause of freedom and gave new life to the American Revolution.

Richard Bland College (RBC), Virginia’s selective, two-year, residential, liberal arts transfer institution, was born through innovation. In 1959, years before the Virginia Community College system was imagined, Frank Ernst – a Gateway region native, entrepreneur, and retired executive of Hopewell’s Allied Chemical Plant – proposed the creation of an institution grounded in the liberal arts tradition with opportunities for specialized training in in-demand fields such as engineering to the State Council of Higher Education. After discussions with Virginia Tech and the University of Virginia, Ernst found a willing partner in the College of William & Mary, the second-oldest university in the United States, who founded Richard Bland College in 1960. RBC has since offered multiple certificates and university-parallel two-year degrees. The College was named for the Virginia statesman and champion of public rights, Richard Bland. Son and grandson of successful planters, Richard Bland was educated at The College of William and Mary. From 1742 until his death in 1776, he represented the area in which the College is now located, first in the House of Burgesses, and later, with the adoption of a state constitution, in the House of Delegates. He also served as a delegate from Virginia in both the First and Second Continental Congresses. It seems fitting, therefore, that an institution of higher learning located in an area served for so many years by this distinguished Virginia patriot and scholar, should derive its name from one whom Jefferson described “as the most learned and logical man of those who took prominent lead in public affairs.” Before the Civil War, the property on which the College is now located was a plantation owned by the Gurley family. It became an important part of the Union-occupied territory during the 1864-1865 Siege of Petersburg. The present campus was the scene of two battles during that campaign. Shortly after the turn of the century, Hatcher Seward established a dairy and cattle farm on the former Gurley property and constructed two farmhouses. Today they serve as the President’s residence and the Hospitality House. In the early 1900s, the still-beautiful grove of pecan trees was planted. The farm was used as a work camp for about twenty conscientious objectors during World War I. The Commonwealth of Virginia authorized Central State Hospital to purchase the land in 1932 for use as the Petersburg Training School and Hospital for African-American Youth. That institution was moved in 1959, and the land, still owned by the Commonwealth, became the location for the establishment of Richard Bland College of The College of William and Mary. Under the guidance of Colonel (Ret.) James M. Carson, the former hospital and training facility was transformed into Richard Bland College, and classes were held beginning in 1961. In the late 1960s, Ernst Hall (named for a local business leader influential in the establishment of the college) was added to the original campus. In addition, a Student Center Library building and a gymnasium also were constructed in the early 1970s. Colonel Carson retired as the founding President of the College in 1973. From 1973 through 1975, Dr. Cornelius Laban, Professor of Biology, Emeritus, served as the Acting President of Richard Bland College. In 1975, Dr. Clarence Maze succeeded Colonel Carson as Richard Bland College’s second President. During his tenure, Richard Bland College expanded its academic programs, added an Asian water garden that was designed by Dr. Maze and expanded international programs and travel. In recognition of his service to the College, the renovated administration building was named Maze Hall upon his retirement in 1996. In 1996, Dr. James B. McNeer succeeded Dr. Clarence Maze as Richard Bland College’s third President. Dr. McNeer introduced a residential life program and oversaw the addition of the Residential Village in 2008. The Residential Village was comprised of two dormitories, Freedom Hall and Patriot Hall, which housed 250 students. A new Science and Technology Building was added in 2010, and in recognition of his service to the College, this building was named James B. McNeer Hall. Dr. McNeer retired in 2012. In 2012, Dr. Debbie L. Sydow succeeded Dr. James McNeer as Richard Bland College’s fourth president. Dr. Sydow expanded the reach, range and diversity of students attending Richard Bland College. She oversaw a physical campus transformation through extensive building renovation and new construction, creation of a Business Innovation Park, and conservation of the iconic pecan grove and water garden. President Sydow reinstituted intercollegiate athletics in 2013 and has since hailed three NJCAA national championship teams. She supported the Foundation’s emergence as a vibrant, entrepreneurial organization led by a Board of Directors composed largely of alumni, and she secured the largest private gift in College history to launch the W&M Promise Scholars program. By effectively leveraging partnerships, President Sydow boosted work-based learning and expanded academic and career pathways for students.

She went by the name of Belisa Crepusculario, not because she had been baptized with that name or given it by her mother, but because she herself had searched until she found the poetry of "beauty" and "twilight" and cloaked herself in it. She made her living selling words. She journeyed through the country from the high cold mountains to the burning coasts, stopping at fairs and in markets where she set up four poles covered by a canvas awning under which she took refuge from the sun and rain to minister to her customers. She did not have to peddle her merchandise because from having wandered far and near, everyone knew who she was. Some people waited for her from one year to the next, and when she appeared in the village with her bundle beneath her arm, they would form a line in front of her stall. Her prices were fair. For five centavos she delivered verses from memory, for seven she improved the quality of dreams, for nine she wrote love letters, for twelve she invented insults for irreconcilable enemies. She also sold stories, not fantasies but long, true stories she recited at one telling, never skipping a word. This is how she carried news from one town to another. People paid her to add a line or two: our son was born, so-and-so died, our children got married, the crops burned in the field. Wherever she went a small crowd gathered around to listen as she began to speak, and that was how they learned about each others' doings, about distant relatives, about what was going on in the civil war. To anyone who paid her fifty centavos in trade, she gave the gift of a secret word to drive away melancholy. It was not the same word for everyone, naturally, because that would have been collective dece it. Each person received his or her own word, with the assurance that no one else would use it that way in this universe or the Beyond. Belisa Crepusculario had been born into a family so poor they did not even have names to give their children. She came into the world and grew up in an inhospitable land where some years the rains became avalanches of water that bore everything away before them and others when not a drop fell from the sky and the sun swelled to fill the horizon and the world became a desert. Until she was twelve, Belisa had no occupation or virtue other than having withstood hunger and the exhaustion of centuries. During one interminable drought, it fell to her to bury four younger brothers and sisters, when she realized that her turn was next, she decided to set out across the 2 plains in the direction of the sea, in hopes that she might trick death along the way. The land was eroded, split with deep cracks, strewn with rocks, fossils of trees and thorny bushes, and skeletons of animals bleached by the sun. From time to time she ran into families who, like her, were heading south, following the mirage of water. Some had begun the march carrying their belongings on their back or in small carts, but they could barely move their own bones, and after a while they had to abandon their possessions. They dragged themselves along painfully, their skin turned to lizard hide and their eyes burned by the reverberating glare. Belisa greeted them with a wave as she passed, but she did not stop, because she had no strength to waste in acts of compassion. Many people fell by the wayside, but she was so stubborn that she survived to cross through that hell and at long last reach the first trickles of water, fine, almost invisible threads that fed spindly vegetation and farther down widened into small streams and marshes. Belisa Crepusculario saved her life and in the process accidentally discovered writing. In a village near the coast, the wind blew a page of newspaper at her feet. She picked up the brittle yellow paper and stood a long while looking at it, unable to determine its purpose, until curiosity overcame her shyness. She walked over to a man who was washing his horse in the muddy pool where she had quenched her thirst. "What is this?" she asked. "The sports page of the newspaper," the man replied, concealing his surprise at her ignorance. The answer astounded the girl, but she did not want to seem rude, so she merely inquired about the significance of the fly tracks scattered across the page. "Those are words, child. Here it says that Fulgencio Barba knocked out El Negro Tiznao in the third round." That was the day Belisa Crepusculario found out that words make their way in the world without a master, and that anyone with a little cleverness can appropriate them and do business with them. She made a quick assessment of her situation and concluded that aside from becoming a prostitute or working as a servant in the kitchens of the rich there were few occupations she was qualified for. It seemed to her that selling words would be an honorable alternative. From that moment on, she worked at that profession, and was never tempted by any other. At the beginning, she offered her merchandise unaware that words could be written outside of newspapers. When she learned otherwise, she calculated the infinite possibilities of her trade and with her savings paid a priest twenty pesos to teach her to read and write, with her three 3 remaining coins she bought a dictionary. She poured over it from A to Z and then threw it into the sea, because it was not her intention to defraud her customers with packaged words. One August morning several years later, Belisa Crepusculario was sitting in her tent in the middle of a plaza, surrounded by the uproar of market day, selling legal arguments to an old man who had been trying for sixteen years to get his pension. Suddenly she heard yelling and thudding hoofbeats. She looked up from her writing and saw, first, a cloud of dust, and then a band of horsemen come galloping into the plaza. They were the Colonel's men, sent under orders of El Mulato, a giant known throughout the land for the speed of his knife and his loyalty to his chief. Both the Colonel and El Mulato had spent their lives fighting in the civil war, and their names were ineradicably linked to devastation and calamity. The rebels swept into town like a stampeding herd, wrapped in noise, bathed in sweat, and leaving a hurricane of fear in their trail. Chickens took wing, dogs ran for their lives, women and children scurried out of sight, until the only living soul left in the market was Belisa Crepusculario. She had never seen El Mulato and was surprised to see him walking toward her. "I'm looking for you," he shouted, pointing his coiled whip at her, even before the words were out, two men rushed her -- knocking over her canopy and shattering her inkwell -- bound her hand and foot, and threw her like a sea bag across the rump of El Mulato's mount. Then they thundered off toward the hills. Hours later, just as Belisa Crepusculario was near death, her heart ground to sand by the pounding of the horse, they stopped, and four strong hands set her down. She tried to stand on her feet and hold her head high, but her strength failed her and she slumped to the ground, sinking into a confused dream. She awakened several hours later to the murmur of night in the camp, but before she had time to sort out the sounds, she opened her eyes and found herself staring into the impatient glare of El Mulato, kneeling beside her. "Well, woman, at last you've come to," he said. To speed her to her senses, he tipped his canteen and offered her a sip of liquor laced with gunpowder. She demanded to know the reason for such rough treatment, and El Mulato explained that the Colonel needed her services. He allowed her to splash water on her face, and then led her to the far end of the camp where the most feared man in all the land was lazing in a hammock strung between two trees. She could not see his face, because he lay in the deceptive shadow of the leaves and the indelible shadow of all his years as a bandit, but she imagined from the way his 4 gigantic aide addressed him with such humility that he must have a very menacing expression. She was surprised by the Colonel's voice, as soft and well-modulated as a professor's. "Are you the woman who sells words?" he asked. "At your service," she stammered, peering into the dark and trying to see him better. The Colonel stood up, and turned straight toward her. She saw dark skin and the eyes of a ferocious puma, and she knew immediately that she was standing before the loneliest man in the world. "I want to be President," he announced. The Colonel was weary of riding across that godforsaken land, waging useless wars and suffering defeats that no subterfuge could transform into victories. For years he had been sleeping in the open air, bitten by mosquitoes, eating iguanas and snake soup, but those minor inconveniences were not why he wanted to change his destiny. What truly troubled him was the terror he saw in people's eyes. He longed to ride into a town beneath a triumphal arch with bright flags and flowers everywhere, he wanted to be cheered, and be given newly laid eggs and freshly baked bread. Men fled at the sight of him, children trembled, and women miscarried from fright, he had had enough, and so he had decided to become President. El Mulato had suggested that they ride to the capital, gallop up to the Palace, and take over the government, the way they had taken so many other things without anyone's permission. The Colonel, however, did not want to be just another tyrant, there had been enough of those before him and, besides, if he did that, he would never win people's hearts. It was his aspiration to win the popular vote in the December elections. "To do that, I have to talk like a candidate. Can you sell me the words for a speech?" the Colonel asked Belisa Crepusculario. She had accepted many assignments, but none like this. She did not dare refuse, fearing that El Mulato would shoot her between the eyes, or worse still, that the Colonel would burst into tears. There was more to it than that, however, she felt the urge to help him because she felt a throbbing warmth beneath her skin, a powerful desire to touch that man, to fondle him, to clasp him in her arms. All night and a good part of the following day, Belisa Crepusculario searched her repertory for words adequate for a presidential speech, closely watched by El Mulato, who could not take his eyes from her firm wanderer's legs and virginal breasts. She discarded harsh, cold words, words 5 that were too flowery, words worn from abuse, words that offered improbable promises, untruthful and confusing words, until all she had left were words sure to touch the minds of men and women's intuition. Calling upon the knowledge she had purchased from the priest for twenty pesos, she wrote the speech on a sheet of paper and then signaled El Mulato to untie the rope that bound her ankles to a tree. He led her once more to the Colonel, and again she felt the throbbing anxiety that had seized her when she first saw him. She handed him the paper and waited while he looked at it, holding it gingerly between thumbs and fingertips. "What the shit does this say," he asked finally. "Don't you know how to read?" "War's what I know," he replied. She read the speech aloud. She read it three times, so her client could engrave it on his memory. When she finished, she saw the emotion in the faces of the soldiers who had gathered round to listen, and saw that the Colonel's eyes glittered with enthusiasm, convinced that with those words the presidential chair would be his. "If after they've heard it three times, the boys are still standing there with their mouths hanging open, it must mean the thing's damn good, Colonel" was El Mulato's approval. "All right, woman. How much do I owe you?" the leader asked. "One peso, Colonel." "That's not much," he said, opening the pouch he wore at his belt, heavy with proceeds from the last foray. "The peso entitles you to a bonus. I'm going to give you two secret words," said Belisa Crepusculario. "What for?" She explained that for every fifty centavos a client paid, she gave him the gift of a word for his exclusive use. The Colonel shrugged. He had no interest at all in her offer, but he did not want to be impolite to someone who had served him so well. She walked slowly to the leather stool where he was sitting, and bent down to give him her gift. The man smelled the scent of a mountain cat issuing from the woman, a fiery heat radiating from her hips, he heard the terrible whisper of her hair, and a breath of sweetmint murmured into his ear the two secret words that were his alone. "They are yours, Colonel," she said as she stepped back. "You may use them as much as you 6 please." El Mulato accompanied Belisa to the roadside, his eyes as entreating as a stray dog's, but when he reached out to touch her, he was stopped by an avalanche of words he had never heard before; believing them to be an irrevocable curse, the flame of his desire was extinguished. During the months of September, October, and November the Colonel delivered his speech so many times that had it not been crafted from glowing and durable words it would have turned to ash as he spoke. He travelled up and down and across the country, riding into cities with a triumphal air, stopping in even the most forgotten villages where only the dump heap betrayed a human presence, to convince his fellow citizens to vote for him. While he spoke from a platform erected in the middle of the plaza, El Mulato and his men handed out sweets and painted his name on all the walls in gold frost. No one paid the least attention to those advertising ploys; they were dazzled by the clarity of the Colonel's proposals and the poetic lucidity of his arguments, infected by his powerful wish to right the wrongs of history, happy for the first time in their lives. When the Candidate had finished his speech, his soldiers would fire their pistols into the air and set off firecrackers, and when finally they rode off, they left behind a wake of hope that lingered for days on the air, like the splendid memory of a comet's tail. Soon the Colonel was the favorite. No one had ever witnessed such a phenomenon: a man who surfaced from the civil war, covered with scars and speaking like a professor, a man whose fame spread to every corner of the land and captured the nation's heart. The press focused their attention on him. Newspapermen came from far away to interview him and repeat his phrases, and the number of his followers and enemies continued to grow. "We're doing great, Colonel," said El Mulato, after twelve successful weeks of campaigning. But the Candidate did not hear. He was repeating his secret words, as he did more and more obsessively. He said them when he was mellow with nostalgia; he murmured them in his sleep; he carried them with him on horseback; he thought them before delivering his famous speech; and he caught himself savoring them in his leisure time. And every time he thought of those two words, he thought of Belisa Crepusculario, and his senses were inflamed with the memory of her feral scent, her fiery heat, the whisper of her hair, and her sweetmint breath in his ear, until he began to go around like a sleepwalker, and his men realized that he might die before he ever sat in the presidential chair. "What's got hold of you, Colonel," El Mulato asked so often that finally one day his chief broke 7 down and told him the source of his befuddlement: those two words that were buried like two daggers in his gut. "Tell me what they are and maybe they'll lose their magic," his faithful aide suggested. "I can't tell them, they're for me alone," the Colonel replied. Saddened by watching his chief decline like a man with a death sentence on his head, El Mulato slung his rifle over his shoulder and set out to find Belisa Crepusculario. He followed her trail through all that vast country, until he found her in a village in the far south, sitting under her tent reciting her rosary of news. He planted himself, spraddle-legged, before her, weapon in hand. "You! You're coming with me," he ordered. She had been waiting. She picked up her inkwell, folded the canvas of her small stall, arranged her shawl around her shoulders, and without a word took her place behind El Mulato's saddle. They did not exchange so much as a word in all the trip; El Mulato's desire for her had turned into rage, and only his fear of her tongue prevented his cutting her to shreds with his whip. Nor was he inclined to tell her that the Colonel was in a fog, and that a spell whispered into his ear had done what years of battle had not been able to do. Three days later they arrived at the encampment, and immediately, in view of all the troops, El Mulato led his prisoner before the Candidate. "I brought this witch here so you can give her back her words, Colonel," El Mulato said, pointing the barrel of his rifle at the woman's head. "And then she can give you back your manhood." The Colonel and Belisa Crepusculario stared at each other, measuring one another from a distance. The men knew then that their leader would never undo the witchcraft of those accursed words, because the whole world could see the voracious-puma eyes soften as the woman walked to him and took his hand in hers. Copyright © 1989 by Isabel Allende From The Stories of Eva Luna, Translated by Margaret Sayers Peden

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