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by. Born in south Texas around the end of World War One, members of the family had often joked that Jeremiah Templar had arrived into this world with his boots and spurs already on. The same temper that Micah struggled with had come to him honestly, for in his own youth his father was known for such by both friend and foe alike.

As a young man that temperament, along with an easy way with the cards as well as the ladies, had led to more than one scrape which gave folks plenty to remember him by. One night it sparked an epic brawl in a San Antonio bar with a town bully, said to be the meanest man thereabouts. He might have been, but Jeremiah Templar proved to be the tougher and mopped the floor with his opponent. The small statured, wiry, full of fire Templar, not more than about nineteen, had left his mark and put the far bigger man in a local hospital.

Unfortunately and to his great chagrin, it was only then the Turkey Creek cowhand discovered the bully in question had plenty of kin, especially in some of the local higher elected offices. A warrant was put out for his arrest and the young Jeremiah, knowing a stacked deck when he saw one, hitched a ride on the first freight out of town.

That particular train had been heading east, so that was where Jeremiah Templar went next. After a couple of months of bouncing around and becoming hungrier and mas flaco, he began thinking about finding some honest work and fattening up a bit. However this was during the time of the Great Depression and jobs were hard to find on the East Coast; especially for south Texas cowboys who didn’t know much more beyond horses, cattle, cards and creating occasional mayhem.

But one day Jeremiah ran into a likely looking gent who said he might be able to help, a no-nonsense sort of fellow in the spiffiest dark blue uniform the cowhand had ever seen, sitting at the desk of the local Marine Corps recruiting office. The rawhide and barbed wire tough Texan liked what he saw and what he heard, and so he signed on. And his world changed drastically yet once again.

The first thing he found out was although he might have had a partial claim to being the toughest man in San Antonio, this unratified title did not include the rank and file of the United States Marine Corps. His comeuppance occurred on his third day at Parris Island, and the eye-opening lesson was taught with finality by another man also made of barbed wire and rawhide, and who just happened to be Jeremiah’s drill instructor.

It was the first time he had ever been whipped so soundly, but Jeremiah took it well enough and learned some of life’s lessons from the drubbing. In the years to come that hard-boiled, fist slinging drill instructor would become his closest friend, and together they ended up being part of what was then termed as ‘China Marines,’ due to their pre-war service there.

Their friendship would endure until a particularly horrific day along a dusty road outside the Filipino town of Balanga, during a time of infamous sorrows and inhuman brutalities that became known as the Bataan Death March.

On that day three long years of a very personal war began in the mountains and jungles of Luzon, fighting an enemy who was seemingly without mercy or compassion for others than themselves. It was a grinding mill of days and nights of sickness, pain, near starvation and constant danger, interspersed with dozens of vicious ambushes and firefights that neither asked for or gave any quarter.

Jeremiah Templar fought eye for an eye through it all, and in the process obtained near legendary status in not only his own ragged band of guerillas but among the general civilian population. He also earned a special reputation among the Japanese invaders, and with good reason was both feared and hated by them.

It had been during some of the same years as Ezekiel’s own war over occupied Europe, but in crucial ways Jeremiah’s crucible was an entirely different kind of onslaught in primal savagery. He had experienced firsthand the unthinking, almost institutional, cruelty of the average Japanese soldier on a near daily basis. What he took with him from that soul-searing ordeal, was an active hate for anything having to do with the Japanese for the rest of his days.

After the liberation of the Philippines and the end of the war, Jeremiah returned to the upper Nueces River country a changed man. Gaunt and battle scarred, his easy ways and happy-go-lucky nature had been replaced by a grim maturity and frank appraisal of himself, as well as the world around him. The temper that often got the better of him as a younger man was now mostly chained down deep within. In the remaining years of his life the fire-eating centaur had escaped only rarely, but Micah had been present during one of those few occurrences and it was a sight to behold.

There were those who said that Jeremiah Templar was a war hero, and others who said he only did what had to be done and had paid a dear price for it. The former Marine had come back to his roots, gotten married and made a living for his family doing what he loved most, working with cattle and horses on a small place outside of Uvalde.

Like so many of his peers who had gone afar to help defeat an implacable foe, he now went about his duties in a simple, day-to-day existence. The fruits of his quiet labor could never be measured in dollars but rather the most priceless denomination of all, the respect of those around him. Micah remembered him as a loving and wise father, who spoke far more openly about his own shortcomings and faults than

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