Wildey Moore - Wildeys Here: The Survivor

WILDEYS
HERE

THE SURVIVOR

WILDEY MOORE

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2019 Wildey Moore. All rights reserved.

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Published by AuthorHouse 10/14/2019

ISBN: 978-1-7283-3160-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-7283-3161-4 (e)

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DEDICATION

Who can find a virtuous woman? For her price is far above rubies. The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need of spoil.

Proverbs 31:10-11

This book is dedicated to Linda Moore, my wife, best friend, business partner, and, after my stroke, nurse. You fired the first shots from the prototype Survivor and, over the years, youve been like a pillar of iron during the greatest trials of my life, even until today. Its been some ride hasnt it honey.

And to my children, Willie, Cathy, Frankie, Hal and Tina, sons and daughters that endured their father all these years. As Ive written this book, Ive found many things I would have done differently. I hope this book will explain my life, and my actions. I love you all dearly and pray for you always.

I would also like to mention Lindas children, Heidi and Wendy, who have remained close to their mother in both thought and action all these years.

Wildey Moore

Connecticut

Summer, 2018

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION
GREEN DOT

Whats that green dot on your forehead? She asked.

My wife, Linda, and I sat playing dominoes at our kitchen table in Connecticut. It was late September 2009. The leaves outside had yellowed but hadnt yet fallen and still hung thick enough to shield our house from the road. Ours was a hard driveway to spot at night unless you already knew where it was.

Linda and I were doing our best to relax, trying to momentarily forget the treachery we found ourselves the target of the last several years. The duplicity came to a head a few days prior when I was fired from my own company. The call to fire me most likely came from Jordan, from the Kings advisor, Moayad Samman, who had inserted himself into the business after King Abdullah, my partner and friend, had turned his focus to the war in Iraq then raging on his border. After seeing the devastation of the Arab Spring, I can sympathize with the Kings situation.

There wasnt anything we could do about the termination now but bring a lawsuit, which would then bring our plight to the Kings attention. And thats what we were planning, which is exactly what Samman and his henchman wanted to avoid. The whole mess stayed on my mind despite my best attempts to forget. Im sure Linda was thinking about our circumstances too then, but neither of us mentioned them as we placed our dominoes onto the table.

Thats when Linda looked up at me. Whats that green dot on your forehead? she asked.

I raised my hand to my brow to see it reflect the green light of a laser now coming in through the kitchen window from the road at the top of my driveway. When I recognized the laser for what it was, I grabbed my cane and stood from the chair as quickly as I could on somewhat shaky legs, weakened by a stroke.

A black truck sat stopped in the street about thirty-five yards from my kitchen in the darkness of our country road, only partially visible behind shrubs. As I made out the silhouette I spotted where the source of the green laser had come from.

The man must have parked the pickup with his lights out, in the perfect position to see between bushes and at just the right angle to catch a glimpse of my lighted kitchen window. But as I made out the silhouette of the truck the driver revved the engine and tore off into the crisp fall night, turning on his lights only as he got farther down the road.

Im quite sure I knew who the pick-up truck belonged to. Most likely he was one of the former Blackwater operatives who took jobs at Wildey FA as Samman came to administer the partnership when HM (His Majesty) stepped away under the pressures of his job.

I have no doubt too that the man behind the laser knew how to use a gun. What a mercenary knew about manufacturing firearms I couldnt tell you. But after seeing how he dealt with me and my wife, and how he, along with a former CIA agent, worked to throw our enterprise into disarray, while making millions of the Kings dollars disappear with nothing in return, I venture to guess that his primary function didnt have anything to do with building and selling guns at all.

The goal was to wrestle the company away from this old gun maker from rural Connecticut and his wife, and do with it what they wanted. We have invoices stating that they were taking large weapons orders from the Kurds, and filling out paperwork with the US State Department that valued the linked Jordanian and American companies at sixty-five million dollars. But they wouldnt sell a gun until they moved me from my ownership stake, by force or by fraud. And I had recently suffered a stroke, and was recovering, which made it even more difficult to fight their onslaught. I further derived my income from my company which they saw fit to fire me from. In other words, I didnt even have the money to fight.

Ive been in the gun business in one form or another since the 1950s. I worked in parts departments, in the Air National Guard, on sales teams, as a gunsmith, a re-loader; Ive started businesses, designed and built pistols, and run for political office; Ive even failed more than a few times. The one thing I havent done is quit. And I wasnt planning on quitting now, though I knew I was up against greater odds than I had ever faced, recovering from a stroke, in an immoral America that had drifted so far from the country I was raised to love that I hardly knew where I stood anymore. But I was up to the fight. I knew that if I would stand, then God would stand with me.

When I went into business with King Abdullah of Jordan I thought it was an opportunity to design a new handgun, and to establish a center for manufacturing in Jordan. Instead, I learned how treacherous the mix of royal politics with international realpolitik and the immorality of the new American paradigm really is.

We live in a more dangerous world than our fathers could ever have imagined. And we came to this point in such a short span of time that my head practically spins. In one sense the gun industry has mirrored the changes in the country as it shifted from an industry that primarily sold guns used for hunting and sporting, which reflected the mentality of the gun buying public of the time, to an industry that sells guns designed for self-defense and offense: a change that reflects the fear and anxiety of the people.

What follows is my story: how I got into the industry, how I learned to design my own pistols, and how I got into this problem with the Jordanians and with the American mercenaries. Along the way I express some of my opinions on policing, firearms, politics, and God, and where Ive seen America going in my lifetime.

I think in its own way, you might find what Ive seen and done interesting, and that it might be of some value in the future.