The four years of the Trump Presidency were characterized by a fantastical degree of instability: fits of rage, late-night Twitter storms, abrupt dismissals. At first, Trump, who had dodged the draft by claiming to have bone spurs, seemed enamored with being Commander-in-Chief and with the national-security officials he’d either appointed or inherited. But Trump’s love affair with “my generals” was brief, and in a statement for this article the former President confirmed how much he had soured on them over time. “These were very untalented people and once I realized it, I did not rely on them, I relied on the real generals and admirals within the system,” he said.

It turned out that the generals had rules, standards, and expertise, not blind loyalty. The President’s loud complaint to John Kelly one day was typical: “You fucking generals, why can’t you be like the German generals?”

“Which generals?” Kelly asked.

“The German generals in World War II,” Trump responded.

“You do know that they tried to kill Hitler three times and almost pulled it off?” Kelly said.

What’s worse is how many of his followers and toadies agreed with him, and were willing to help him. Still, it could be argued they just didn’t know any better.

Even worse is how many basically decent and patriotic people fell for the lies and helped him. …who still believe the lies and still help him.

But what really fills me with despair is how many knew exactly who and what he was, even despised him for it, but still let him get away with his crimes because it furthered their own personal agendas.

Despair is precisely the right word. No matter how this works out in the end, I’ll never feel safe again. Even if we survive this nightmare, none of us can ever sleep soundly again.