ROMAN WOLFE'S ADIRONDACK ORDEAL
by
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WHAT I remember most during my boyhood was the fighting and the resultant bloody noses, black eyes, cuts, abrasions and bruises that were the natural consequences of my frequent physical combat. It wasn’t that I was driven to it by a mental aberration, or meanness or a desire to inflict or receive pain. I just couldn’t avoid it unless I constantly backed-down and ran away. I wouldn’t back down and I certainly wouldn’t run, unless it was toward, not away from my opponent. Fighting came to be unavoidable, so I stopped trying to avoid it. I was tall, skinny and had a small-boned, skeletal structure. I guess I looked weak, vulnerable, and ripe for a bully’s exciting exploitation and the amusement. Bullies my own age, but especially older bullies, thought they sensed a fragile insecurity in my wish to avoid a confrontation. Maybe they thought they saw fear and assumed that it was fear of them─instead of my fear of hurting them badly. Maybe it was just the way I looked, tall and skinny, a nerd with black glasses. Maybe it was my clowning, jocular behavior in which I often made fun of myself for laughs. Bullies thought they could tease me, pick on me, and push me around. Actually, all of that could be done, but only to a point. That point, however, was a sharp one, and the distance to that point was a short one. Many bullies regretted trying to stretch that distance and found that they were suddenly feeling the sharp point of my anger. I could be comical and full of laughter, but there’s a lightly-sleeping, ferociousness within me, a wild animal ferocity. I was very aware of it, sometimes feared what I may do with it. I’ve recognized its presence ever since I was a little, snot-nosed kid. I called this fierce, fiery, ferocious feeling, “Wolf,” simply because, when I felt this way, my mind conjured up an image of a feral wolf, usually seen only by me, as a white, “pale” wolf. At that time I didn’t know why the images were of a wolf, nor why it was white. I wouldn’t learn the significance of those two things until I was older.
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About the Book
Roman Wolfe is a Vietnam War veteran. More accurately, he was an expert at night time stealth combat.
His silent, undetectable killings were psychological warfare at their most horrifying. They demoralized and terrified the enemy, especially when the surviving enemy kept seeing a frightening white wolf after Roman’s lethal attacks.
When the war ends Roman attends college, becomes a teacher, is married and has a daughter. However, all is not well with Roman’s psyche. The sublime peace that he seeks is constantly shattered by episodes of depression.
After a few years of on-and-off mental struggles he seeks professional assistance. While in therapy, and on a pre-Thanksgiving weekend, Roman and his wife and daughter visit his in-laws at a very rural area in Chemung, New York.
While on an outdoor walk, Roman and his daughter are kidnapped by a brutal mountain-man and his two miscreant sons who are all running from the law.
Roman and his daughter are driven to the Adirondack Mountains where they are forced to journey to a hunting cabin in an extremely remote wilderness area, where the white wolf appears, again.
About the Author
Bill is a Vietnam-Era veteran. After his discharge he went to the University of New York at Geneseo. As a double major, he received a BS degree in Elementary Education and a BA degree in Psychology. In 1977 he was awarded a Masters Degree. Bill is a black belt in the Japanese (Okinawa) style of Isshin Ryu karate.