The Gomorrah Principle a Vietnam Sniper Story

The Gomorrah Principle

A Novel About a Vietnam Sniper in the Phoenix Program

The Gomorrah Principle by Rick DeStefanis about a sniper

Book #2 of this series has been awarded the Readers’ Choice Award for military fiction and is lauded by reviewers as one of the best Vietnam War novels to appear in years. An exciting new thriller filled with gripping tension and espionage The Gomorrah Principle hooks readers from the opening pages, with its ambitious story, multi-layered themes, and complex characters. A story about a young Vietnam sniper, The Gomorrah Principle has the ingredients to become an instant classic among war novels.

When Brady Nash receives a cryptic letter, he realizes that his foster brother may have been murdered in Vietnam and is compelled him to join the military in order to find the truth. Unwilling to explain to his one true love, Lacey Coleridge, why he is joining the army, Brady leaves her angry and grief-stricken. Disavowing their relationship, Lacey turns away to pursue a country music career in Nashville. Only time will tell if she can totally abandon the man she loves, or if he will ever return from Vietnam.

A product of a war fought in the jungles, villages and cities of Vietnam, Brady Nash develops into a sniper of legendary proportions as he faces life and death metered in elements of elevation and windage through a riflescope. Eventually, through his inquiries and his reputation as a sniper, he attracts the attention of a CIA advisor and is recruited to a special operations group. Only then does Brady realize he is no longer the hunter, but the hunted. Caught in a web of espionage, drug dealing, and assassination, his search for the killer has put him on the same hit list as his foster brother.

Learn more about the book’s reviews and awards here.

Gomorrah Principle Purchase Options

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You may also enjoy my other books below:

Melody Hill: A Vietnam War Novel

Raeford’s MVP: Military Fiction with a Love Story

Valley of the Purple Hearts: Book #4 of my Vietnam War Series

Tallahatchie: Southern Fiction and Dark Comedy

Rawlings, No Longer Young: A Western Historical Fiction Novel

Recent Posts

Kill a Cow–Save the Planet!

I try to focus my posts on odds and ends, entertaining asides, stuff about writing, positive things, whatever, but seldom do I delve into politics. This will be a first for my Author’s blog right here at www.rickdestefanis.com. With this post, I’m stepping off into some deep stuff all the way up to my eyeballs. Normally, I avoid arguing with the irrational. Afterall, who’s the bigger fool—the fool or he who argues with a fool? My hand is up. Ooogh, ooogh, pick me, teacher!

This is my Alamo! I am standing my ground! I will no longer remain silent. So, here it is, my rant on the elite experts (and I use that term with great sarcasm) who would have us eat bugs and such, so that we might stop climate change by eliminating herds of farting cattle—excuse me, I mean cattle emitting greenhouse gases.

Let’s start with NYC Mayor Eric Adams who told New Yorkers they should eliminate meat and dairy products from their diets to save the planet. Now, we know Mayor Eric isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but like some powerful liberal leaders, you don’t have to be the sharpest tool if you’re the biggest hoe. Never mind. Strike that from the record. Mayor Eric ain’t no hoe. Besides, it’s tacky. Oh, but I digress. Back to the rant at hand.

Some idiot Harvard professor basically said the same thing when he said our domestic cattle herds, dairy herds, and other such groups of four-legged grass-munchers are contributing significantly to greenhouse emissions, insinuating that they must be regulated. Yes, another governmental buracracy is in the works, the CFC–the cow farting commision. I can no longer remian silent, and therefore must challenge this Harvard half-wit with my argument.

You see, I’m from the South, and I have three vices, blondes, bourbon, and fried chicken. The first two are discussions for another time. I’m going to focus on the fried chicken—the mountaintop of southern cuisine. Okay, maybe one of them. It’s sort of like the Tetons in the Rockies. You know–like Mount Barbeque, or Mount Ribeye, but fried chicken is like Grand Teton. But wait! Do chickens fart? Never mind. I’m being tacky again. Strike that from the record. But remember, mess with our fried chicken at your own risk.

Let’s look at it from a more logical standpoint. What about hundreds of thousands of Wildebeests and such roaming the African Serengeti? Should we kill them all? What about the same numbers of caribou and reindeer roaming the Artic? Start killing those reindeer, and God help us if one of ’em is named Rudolph—just sayin’. And think about the elephant and water buffalo herds in Africa and India? If such expert logic is accepted, the disappearance of thousands of elk and bison that once roamed the eastern US should have resulted in an ice age of sorts—right? Just sayin’. I mean the argument is based on a Fauchi-like science that invites such counter-reasoning until I can’t help myself. Are we being greenhouse gas-lighted?

If only we could have the support of the thousands who derive their living from those domestic herds–might we succeed? Perhaps. Depends on how the woke folks deal with them. Maybe, it’ll be a commission on the insurrection of the steak eaters. They’ll hold a congressional investigation and enlist the DOJ to begin issuing warrants. Heck, they might even conjure up an excutive order for businesses to begin serving stemcell steaks made with 3-D printers, I think not, but that may be a good way to tell just how committed some of the climate change zealots really are to eliminating our T-bone steaks. I nominate Gretta Thornburg to head up the first stem cell steak test group. We’ll serve stem-cell steaks (well done) with humus on mint leaves and cucumber water. For entertainment, we can have Joe and Cornpop sing Camptown Races.

Okay, I can carry my depravity only so far. Thank you for letting me vent.

 



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