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US Marine Purple Heart Hall of Honor, Michael “the Deacon” Duncan; PURPLE HEART, WHITE SUICIDE, WHITE MIRACLE

In Uncategorized on August 17, 2016 at 2:15 pm

Here’s the packet of information and pictures that changed history for White veterans and the White Race.  I sent to the Purple Heart Hall of Honor, for my deceased husband and father of my only two sons, Michael Miles Duncan.

Husband’s ancestry, Stephen Hopkins, Mayflower. His wife, Elizabeth had five children. One of the children, Oceanus, was the only baby born on the Mayflower.

PURPLE HEART / WHITE MIRACLE                         8/24/11

My deceased husband’s nickname which was “Deacon” -his last name was “Duncan,” so we’ll call him precious “Deacon Duncan.” His father’s ancestry went back to the Mayflower Ship 1620, and the biography “Here Shall I Die Ashore,” by Caleb Johnson, is about his direct Mayflower ancestor, Stephen Hopkins. His real name: Michael Miles Duncan.

His mother’s ancestry states she was the daughter of a Lithuanian Princess, who married an artist and he lost the entire castle, jewels, and royal belongings in a gambling game. They begged to live as slaves for the new castle owner, had 2 sons, and fled to America when the Communists came during the night – by pointed bayonet-stole their eldest son for war.

When Deacon Duncan went to Vietnam, his Lithuanian uncle gave him a holy picture painted on metal. His uncle chided him with “You never know, Deacon Duncan when you will need God in the foxholes.” I have purchased a holy picture like this and the description reads that since Lithuania was ruled by a Communist government, art and Christianity were both suffering from oppression. The Communists were in the midst of murdering or starving to death, 66,000,000 God-loving people. The holy picture was painted on metal and is similar to this type of Jesus with his white lambs and sheep.

Jesus Metalized Picture

When he got to Viet Nam, he not only defended the Asian jungle people who were relying on his unit for protection but was chummy with them. They served him dinners which consisted of river rat, snakes, and rice.

When the day in 1967 his platoon was overrun by the Asian Communist enemy, he fought valiantly. Suddenly the bullets and grenades went off everywhere and one exploded his testicle = his Purple Heart!  But miraculously, bullets bounced off the metalized holy painting sitting in his front utility belt, saved his penis, the other testicle, the rest of his groin and his very life.

His other injuries: malaria fever, hookworms, bullet wound, shrapnel, Agent Orange poison damage to his brain and nervous system, Shell Shock Syndrome, screaming nightmares, excessive drinking, illegal drugging and excessive legal pills, heavy  smoking, constant caffeine, all the latter used as foreign agents to incite him to kill.  He came back and was fighting in brawls, womanizing and excessive gambling. This behavior he engaged in at Viet Nam seemed to be “perks” or “rewards,” for the Marines to kill the enemy. He didn’t go to Viet Nam, that way, but that is how he returned. Not to a hero’s welcome either, but to agony, shame, scorn.

It’s not as if I married “Prince Charming!” And yet we never argued in 18 years! I was leading a quiet spiritual life and treated him with patience, love, understanding, hard work, even slavery, and began to show him a better life. In 1968, I had 2 tee shirts made up for us. His said “Master” and mine said “Slave.” It wasn’t slavery – it was “Love.”  Even my son told me how could I send his name him for honor, since at the end he put me into the Crisis Center for Battered Wives, and I replied, “Forgiveness, Understanding, and Love,” and a will to “change” things for the betterment of the world and to set his life’s story aright as a hero. And hopefully saving the White Race, an endangered species.

When we first met, we both were severely depressed, he from Viet Nam, and me from the poverty of coming from a White Polish, starving, large family of 15 right in South Chicago. As time went on, though, the weight of being married to a Viet Nam Veteran was weighing on me tremendously and even though a young woman, I became severely depressed, physically ill with bleeding of the bowels, and was on 23 pills a day.  That’s when I found Christian Science.

Yet there was an old song, “True Love Never Runs Smooth,” by Gene Pitney which sings, “Stand beside me all the while, no matter what goes wrong, separately we’re weak together we’ll be strong.” He was my “hero,” and I felt his strength in my own ideas of pioneering bringing back breastfeeding, pioneering organic gardening, and even having a drug-free home birth delivery without any strong drugs. At the birth, we had a doctor, midwife, Christian Science nurse, and a healer on call to pray for us, and it was much more economical than a hospital with my husband’s small salary.

I told the Christian Science practitioner that I wanted to get a divorce; there was a man at work that wanted to marry me that would be good for my sons’ upbringing, but she told me that my husband could be healed of all of his injuries. She reminded me that he was a war hero and that I had a son that needed him.

I almost dropped the phone.  I’m thinking, “Hmmm? She’s gotta be joking. He can be healed? By prayer alone? That’s crazy. It seemed incurable, degenerative, hopeless.”  This was my last resort. I prayed to see us as the son and daughter of God and not two suffering mortals with incurable wounds, mine from poverty, his war.

She told me that when I see my husband or think of him to know in my heart silently that “man is the perfect Idea of God: Perfect God; perfect man.”

From spirituality.com and Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures by Mary Baker Eddy: “The Christlike understanding of scientific being and divine healing includes a perfect Principle and idea,–perfect God and perfect man,–as the basis of thought and demonstration.”

I’d see him in the rocking chair with our son Mikey Jr. on his lap, reading the Christian Science Monitor newspaper. He told me that his teacher in school years before told him that reading newspapers would help him read better since he was practically illiterate.  Picture the most hardened man you could ever imagine, rocking in a chair, gently reading about the world, holding his young son, and enjoying the news in the Monitor.

Thru the practitioner’s work and my prayers and that of having mental healing instruction with a teacher, I saw much of the injuries healed. He no longer took illegal drugs that he got addicted to in Viet Nam. He cut down on chain smoking and even drinking. His womanizing stopped.  The dreaded screaming nightmares ended.  The excessive gambling stopped completely. When I took a class in spiritual healing I was the physician with God not only for myself and the boys, but him and his Dad, and we had many wonderful healings and protection from danger, death, disease. He transformed into a very caring husband and loving father. I would know in my quiet recesses of my mind that it was God Almighty who was our Loving Father, and the Lord Christ was my husbandman.

Before Christian Science, he was fired from jobs often, and even that stopped. He got a good position for a well-known company, Frito-Lay, a Fortune 100 company, and excelled there as a warehouse manager, beloved by his boss and fellow employees. This lasted for several years, but then a 17-year-old woman at work stole him from me and the boys – – she wouldn’t have wanted him before I found him and loved him or before the earnest prayers of the practitioner.

He did support the idea of having our youngest son attend Christian Science schools for 12 years. I’m grateful for the generosity of donors. We lived in a poor mostly white suburb which offered V.A. loans. The junior schools were  dangerous for the growth of young boys. My brother was an English teacher there, and his first class was to monitor the boys’ bathroom. These young White boys, many sons of Veterans, were in the bathroom at 8 a.m. vomiting from being drunk, high on illegal drugs, or spaced out on their own mother’s pills from the medicine cabinet. German Shepherd trained dogs marched down the halls, sniffing for drugs. So when I was able to put our second son in a Christian Science school that prohibits drinking, drugging, smoking, even pills, I was eternally grateful that he graduated college there.

Michael wandered off, and then returned to Chicago for he had lapsed into a drinking problem and I encouraged him to go to Veteran’s Hospital. He was a “hero” and at the “top” of our country’s men for valor and bravery. He had written an autobiography about what it was like to be White and homeless in Chicago, but it was stolen. His treatment in the Veteran’s Hospital was horrendous. Mike told me that he sat in a chair for six months with no help.  (Cost the taxpayers $500,000.00 three times.) The treatment was ineffective. He was kicked out homeless twice.

He anguished when he confided in me that in order to get medical help, he would throw himself out on a busy street, pretend he was dead, and when a driver slammed on their brakes and called 9/11, and the police would pick up his body and take him to a hospital.  He wrote a 2nd autobiography – it was again stolen. His discoveries were to be kept covered up……. until now -as  he writes thru my very fingers, with the passion and strength of a war hero for truth and justice!

He went in Veteran’s hospital again. In our last phone call, he was shouting words to medical staff-threatening he would kill himself. “There was no help for the White man in this country.” He said it was about “men” and not about “money.”  He had finally gotten disability but said he would drink himself to death. He shouldn’t have been let out being suicidal.

Several weeks later, I moved to Las Vegas, Nevada, I sang a tribute to him in karaoke “Did You Ever Know That You’re My Hero?” Well, the next morning I found out that Duncan had died from suicide, apparently, as he warned he would drink himself to death. Yet the death certificate says he died of closed head injuries. I believe that even though I was singing 2,000 miles away, he mentally heard my singing – expressing love and honor for him as a Veteran in front of an entire audience. I believe we truly live in a mental world and his life and heroism would not be in vain.  He died: Memorial Day for Veterans, May 30, 2004. It felt like we had communed in his last moments in Spirit, God. It was pure, and it was blissful. But it wasn’t final.

I continued to pray for him, wrote mighty long emails (20,000 pages) and I sang on stage in military costumes I sewed and designed myself. I wrote about his tragedy to media, went in person to my Senators, Armed Forces, Churches, and took my case to the college where I took 2 courses to polish my English writing skills with 2 “A’s.”

I’ve witnessed the following healings that I was at the helm in my fight for Veteran’s rights.  He fought the Chinese Communists in the jungles of Viet Nam and I have fought thru my keyboard, performances, personal visits:

1    A parade for Viet Nam Veterans, howbeit 40 years late. I marched in it.

2    There was a deep study of the maltreatment and neglect of Veterans at Walter Reed Veteran’s Hospital.

3    The issue of military suicides was exposed; Suicide Prevention Centers for Veterans established.

4    The Government declared suicides were a White Man’s disease and had to be treated as such. Of the 200,000 suicide deaths from Viet Nam, mostly all were White men, driven to desperation, in a society where there seemed to be welfare, aid, mentorship, plenty of money and tax dollars for everyone “except” the White man. According to United States Census Bureau, right now the White children are the minority in America, no Civil Rights for Whites, just for non-Whites.  By 2042, our race will be the minority, and the White Race will be extinct by 2111. We are only 8% of World Population: the only race to decline and die.

5      It was recent news that a proclamation was issued that these suicidal victims would have their status changed from dying of suicide and shame to having died from battle wounds and that their families would be getting a letter stating that their relative was a war hero.

6    In my hometown Las Vegas, many suffering and homeless Veterans moved here to live in the streets because of the warm weather. Now an organization has developed so that any homeless Veteran is now given a real home and tender care.  This is spreading across the country.

7    The disrespect and scorn labeling the Vietnam Veteran have changed into having pride of serving our country against a very powerful Communist God-less enemy. I now frequently hear Vietnam Vets discussing Vietnam, not living in shame anymore, but with dignity which should be recognized by all.

8      The government now, for the very first time in history is going to take steps to secure help for Veteran’s wives’ and children’s welfare. (This help will not affect me nor help my White sons, but will the new Veterans.)

9      Even the idea of this Purple Heart Hall of Honor could have come from my emails as early as 2002.

10     A brand new hospital complex and system went up in Las Vegas before I moved helping over 65,000 veterans, who prior to this, were neglected, suffering, and dying.

The founder of our spiritual healing church was married to a man named Major George Washington Glover in 1844 and her son and grandson had the same name, as President and General George Washington has on the Purple Heart Medal.

Finally, my prayer is for the healing of Veterans, their families, our country, and especially our White males. I do believe in a strong military, I also believe in peace too. My Purple Heart hero husband was the White Miracle in my life! Thank you, God, for Michael Miles Duncan.

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Thanks to White Michael Duncan, husband, Vietnam Veteran, Purple Heart Hall of Honor, we pioneered organic gardening and supported me when the entire world was against me for pioneering comeback of breastfeeding.

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Michael Duncan, Purple Heart Hall of Honor, Vietnam Vacation in the woods of Indiana.

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I raised my Vietnam Veteran, US Marine, Purple Heart Hall of Honor White sons, to my highest. Here my White baby and I are at the YMCA. The teacher threw him in deep water, allowed him to rise to top which is natural, and grab him and guide him to the side of pool. That was to instinctively plant in him survival if he ever fell in pool. About 1974.

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Me, Barbara Duncan Patton Nowak, devoted wife and mother of Vietnam Veteran, US Marine, Purple Heart Hall of Honor. Smiling because I was victorious to achieve the rights for White Veterans. My husband commit suicide. Last words in VA hospital: “There is no help for White man in the USA.” After crusading seven years, I finally heard on news headlines they would study suicides of war. Then later, of the 200,000 suicides from Vietnam alone, all were White men and will be treated as a White man’s disease.

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My loyal friend, Queenie, who had 52 puppies, last 13 were pedigreed, which led me much later to study “Why not pedigreed humans?” Sadly, my Vietnam Veteran was drunk and kicked her down the stairs one day because she was old. I ran and lifted her squealing body up 10 stairs, 70 lbs. But took her to the Vet who had to put her to sleep because she could no longer hold her pee and poop. I weep when I sing Elvis’ song, “Ol’ Shep.” But I understand the utter agony my husband was going through as a rejected White man by society as a Vietnam Veteran war hero, while the Jews and their Jewess and their kids get put on pedestals.

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Michael Miles Duncan in the Purple Heart Hall of Honor.

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Our White son, with ancestry back to the Mayflower, receiving his diploma from Principia College.

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Our eldest son and our only granddaughter of a Purple Heart Hall of Honor, US Marine, Vietnam Veteran

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US Marine Michael Duncan, Sr. Purple Heart Hall of Honor. Suicide. I changed history for his White Rights. His last words, “There is no help for the White man in this country.” After 9 years of crusading the military did a study of wars and of Vietnam alone, 200,000 suicides. Four times the amount who died in battle. All were WHITE MEN, and it will be treated as a White man’s disease, according to radio headlines. But it was not a “disease” to be precise, but intentional pulverization, annihilation, and genocide of the White male, so the Jews could takeover the USA in the 1960’s. Jews did the same to my Polish people in Poland 1025-1945, and kept us in constant slavery and wars.

 

 

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