The Day The Magic Returned

This is a work of fiction. Any sexual activities described will be between persons of at least 18 years of age. Depictions of fantasy realm racism, interspecies procreation, and modern military violence may be present.

Chapter 1

My name is Joshua Kline. It is currently August of 2024, and like many these days, I was once a human. Everyone who experienced changes on 1 January of 2001 remembers how they woke up the next morning. Those of us were awake when the changes started. Remember a whole lot more.

On 31 December 2000, I was a 30 year old Security Forces Staff Sergeant in the USAF stationed at Incirlik AB Turkey. I'd just worked a swing shift as a team leader with a young Oglala Lakota female airman from the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota. After taking the bus back to the dorm, she and I headed to the chow hall for some "midnight chow," where we both pigged out on leftovers from the evening meal. Afterward, we went back to our respective dorm rooms (she was my next-door neighbor), said our good nights, and headed inside. I quickly stripped out of my uniform and hopped into the shower.

As I showered, my head started to hurt. I had such a splitting head ache over my ears, and my ears hurt. My legs and face were itchy and my feet cramped, and my tailbone all so badly. As I was fighting the pain, I heard a scream of pain from Airman Twowolves next door.

With my feet cramping, my tail bone, head, and ears all hurting, I managed to hobble to my chest of drawers, grab a pair of workout shorts, and put them on. I hobbled out my door and to hers. I knocked but could hear her moaning in pain, I tried the door knob and found it unlocked. I entered and announced myself, "Airman Twowolves," I said as I hobbled inside. "This is SSgt. Kline, I heard you scream. Are you okay? Do you need help?"

I heard a moaned, "Please help me, sarge. I don't know what's fucking happening to me, but my entire fucking body hurts."

"Are you decent," I asked easing towards the door?

"No sarge, I'm not," was her weak reply, "I was fucking getting into the shower when everything just started to fucking hurt. I just couldn't stand up and fell to the fucking floor."

"I know the fucking feeling," I replied turning around and stripping the blanket off of her bed.

"Aren't you in pain," she asked weakly?

"Yeah, I fucking am," I said as I hobbled to the bathroom door. "But your scream outweighed my fucking pain," I finished as I turned the corner. When I saw her laying nude on the floor, I instantly knew that I wasn't ready for what I saw.

She'd managed to get her towel down and had covered her breasts and groin with it. Her entire body was visibly getting larger. Her lower body, from her hips down was changing, and for some reason I couldn't comprehend, taking a resemblance to the rear body of an animal, like a cow or something, tail included. Her nose and mouth area were growing and taking on a muzzle like appearance, and she was growing what looked like cow horns & ears.

As I watched, the cramps in my feet became too much to stand, and I slid down the door frame and sat in the floor with her. I realized that my legs were itchy, and when I went to scratch them, the hair on them was significantly longer. I then looked down at my legs, and saw that my feet were changing. That my toes were growing together and I was developing significant toe nails.

"Dawn," I said using her first name as I reached out to take her hand. "I have no fucking idea what's happening to you, but I'm having a similar experience."

She looked at my legs and said, "Sure looks like it to me sarge." She then looked up into my eyes and gasped, "Sarge, you're growing fucking horns, and pointy ears."

"What," I asked as I felt around my head with my other hand, and felt my ears which were growing fur, and straight out from my head. I then reached directly above them and found that I was indeed growing horns, rams horns to be precise. I looked at Dawn's form, smiled and replied, "Well Dawn, you're growing furry ears and fucking horns too."

She reached up and felt her horns and ears then said, "Damn!" She then looked back at me and asked, "What's fucking happening to us sarge?"

"I'll be damned if I know," I replied. After about a minute and idea came to me, so I asked her, "Dawn, how familiar are you with Ancient Greek Mythology?"

"We studied it in school a bit, but I'm no expert," she replied threw gritted teeth.

"Based on each of our conditions, I'd suggest that for some unknown fucking reason, you're turning into a minotaur, and I'm turning into a satyr."

She looked back down at her lower body then at me, and busted out laughing between grimaces of pain.

"What's so funny," I asked?

"The fact that my family are cattle ranchers back home on the res," she responded. "Then there's the irony that minotaurs are from Greek mythology and I'm Oglala Lakota," she finished.

"True enough," I replied before another thought raced through my mind. "As Oglala Lakota, your people used to hunt bison," I started in contemplation. "What if you're turning into a bison version of a minotaur?"

"Ignoring the fact that we have no fucking idea of why we're turning into something else in the first fucking place, that would make the most sense," she painfully agreed. "What about you?"

"Well, I'm of German Swiss descent," I said, "and the only explanation that I can think of as to why I'm specifically turning into a satyr is that today is my fucking 31st birthday. I'm a Capricorn, so that may have a bearing on my situation.

"Oh shit," she said. "I'm a Taurus, my birthday is May the 4th."

"Our astrological signs may have bearing on our situation, but I still have abso-fucking-lutely no idea as to why this shit is happening in the first place.

At that there was a knock on her open door. "Recall, recall," said the woman in a gas mask at the door. "There's a Squadron recall in effect."

"Hey," I yelled, "I don't think that Airman Twowolves nor I will be able to make the recall."

"Who's that," she asked? "Identify yourself?"

"I'm SSgt Joshua Kline," I responded, "Airman Twowolves and I are currently undergoing some kind of weird changes."

"What kind of changes," she asked as she stepped around the corner to look at us? As she saw us she radioed into the Law Enforcement Desk and informed them that she had two more and gave Airman Twowolves' room number as the address. She then looked at me and asked, "Is this your room, or hers?"

"Hers," I responded, "I'm next door."

"Okay," she said writing something in a note book, "That's good to know. Stay here, and the medics will come get you when they can," she finished before she left.

Chapter 2

I awoke as the first rays of sunlight shot through a gap in the curtains and reflected off of the mirror over Dawn's sink to my right. I was still, uncomfortably leaning against her bathroom's doorframe. Dawn and I must've fallen asleep, at some point during the night, there on the floor. I quickly noticed that at some point during the night, due to her increased size, she'd scooted up and was resting her head in my lap. I also noticed that her towel had slipped off of her and that I could see all of her nude body. While I found the her physical changes to her body attractive, my better angles made me cover her up with the blanket that I'd taken from her bed.

I sat there for a while just listening to her breath, when I heard a knock at the door. "Come in," I said leaning around the door frame.

"Hello," came the voice of a gasmask wearing male as the door opened, "Where are you?"

"We're in the latrine," I answered.

"Are you decent," came the skeptical voice?

"As decent as possible," I responded. "Are you the medics come to pick us up?"

"No, I'm not," came the voice, "I'm with service's, I've come to deliver your meals from the dinning facility."

"Meals," I asked? "Wasn't the hospital supposed to come for us?"

"I don't know about any of that," he said, "I was only ordered deliver meals to certain rooms, and this is one of the."

"Okay," I said. "Is the room next door on your list too?"

"Yes, it is," he replied.

"That's my room, please leave my food here for now," I asked?

"Okay," he said, as I assumed he set two meals on Dawn's desk.

"Hey, before you leave, do you have any idea what's going on around here."

"Not anymore than what I've heard on the news this morning," he replied.

"Would you please turn on the TV," I asked?

"Why can't you you turn it on," he asked?

"Because I have what looks like an 8 foot tall female minotaur asleep with her head in my lap," I replied, "They say, that cow horns hook, and her horns are too close to my junk for comfort."

I heard him laughing as he walked over to the TV, and turned it on.

"Thanks for that," I said.

"You're welcome," he said as he closed the door.

I sat there and listen to the TV. Apparently, whatever was going on was prompting Armed Forces Radio Television Service (or AFRTS) to forgo their regular programming and go to a consistent Fox news feed from the states. As I listened I learned that whatever had happened occurred world wide at precisely at 21:01 Greenwich Mean Time or Zulu time, and that definitely tracked with what I'd experienced. I also learned that what ever it was, occurred to exactly 50% of the population. They spoke of how certain cultures (predominantly the Islamic and strictest of the fundamental Christians), and the governments that they had spawned, were proclaiming the changed as the spawns of Satan and vowed to exterminate them.

"That," I said out loud to myself, "is fucking worrisome."

"What's fucking worrisome," asked a deep a sleepy sounding feminine voice from my lap? "What the fuck," she said. "Is that me," she asked, "Oh fuck, that is me," she finished as she began to stir.

I gently placed my hands on her horns and said, "Easy, easy, cow horns hook, cow horns hook," with a lot of apprehension in my voice.

"Cow horns," she asked as she started turning her head?

Gripping her horns as firmly as I could, "Yeah, cow horns," I quickly stated, "your cow horns, which are at this moment uncomfortably close to my junk."

"What the fuck are you doing in my room," she almost yelled at me, while disentangling herself from my lap. As she spun around and backed away from me, the blanket that had been covering her nakedness fell away She quickly realized that she was naked and asked, "What the fuck did you do to me last night you pervert," while trying to cover her nakedness with her hands?

"Besides come check on you when you've screamed in pain, hold your hand as you changed into a minotaur, and stroke your hair as you rested your head in my lap," I asked? "Abso-fucking-lutely nothing." Then I remembered the blanket, and said, "Oh, I forgot, I did cover up your nakedness with that blanket this morning when I woke up."

"Get the fuck out," she demanded.

"Okay," I said standing up on wobbly legs, "When you calm down, I'll be in my room next door," I collected my food container and opened her door. Before I stepped out I said, "A guy from services stopped by earlier and dropped off some food for us. I've taken mine, I'll see you later," and left.

I went to my room turned on the TV, and sat there eating sausage, eggs, biscuits and gravy. I washed it all down with a small bottle of OJ that the guy had left with the food.

As I sat there watching the news, several of the "EXPERTS" that news channels always employed spoke at length about last night's events, but they didn't really say anything. At around 10:00 the deputy combat support group commander came on TV and briefed everyone watching as to our current status. She said that a significant portion of the base population had been affected. She said that arrangements were being made to evacuate all of us, as Islamic fundamentalist elements within & outside of Turkey had threatened to exterminate the changed.

"That again," I said aloud, "just fucking peachy."

I watched for a bit longer when I heard a heavy knocking at my door. I opened it to find Dawn sheepishly standing outside of my room with a bed sheet wrapped around her. Seeing her at her full height for the first time was impressive. The irony that she'd been about 6" shorter than me just yesterday wasn't lost on me as she was at least that taller than me now.

"SSgt Kline," she started.

"Come on in Airman Twowolves," I said interrupting her. "Find a seat anywhere you like."

She ducked deeply as she stepped into my room. I could clearly see a bruise forming on her forehead. "I want to apologize for earlier," she started as soon as she was inside my room and took a seat in one of my chairs.

"You're forgiven," I said interrupting her again. "We both had a fucking rough time of it last night," I continued while looking back at the door way. "Hell, we probably had a more intimate experience just being there for each other, than if we'd actually fucked."

The look on her face spoke volumes. I simultaneously saw relief and regret that we hadn't fucked.

We say in silence for a few minutes, before we both spoke at once. We both apologized and she asked me to go first.

"How's the height thing going," I asked, eyeing the bruise on her forehead.

"About as well as the clothing issue is," she said. "Besides bed sheets," she continued tugging at her improvised bed sheet toga, "I have absolutely nothing to fucking wear."

"I'd say that it sucks to be you," I said, " But I have wardrobe issues of my own."

"Like what," she asked? " You're roughly the same size that you were when you started out."

"Am I," I asked with an idea flowing through my mind? "I now have this thing," I finished as I spun around, dropped my shorts just enough to show her my tail.

"Oh, da widdle goat man has a cute widdle tail," she mockingly teased. Then doing her best Paul Hogan impression said, "That's not a tail mate, this is a tail," as her tail flashed up over her shoulders.

"You win," I surrendered, "your win." I looked at her a moment then asked, "Do you want to find out how tall you really are now? I know that I want to."

She looked at me and simply said, "Yes, please."

At that I went to retrieve my tape measure and a sharpie marker. I had her stand back against a wall first. I reached up and measured her from the highest point on her head back to the wall and made a mark. I then stood with my back to the same wall and had her make a mark. I then used the tape measure to determine how tall we were. She ironically was 7'2" while I was 6'6". I'd been right at 6' even of 72", and she'd been 5'6" or 66" only the day before. We both had a good laugh at that. A good laugh that we both needed.

As the laughter between us died down, she turned and looked at herself in my mirror. "Am I still pretty," she asked somberly?

I stepped up behind her also looking into the mirror, but focusing in on her eyes. I smiled and truthfully said, "I still see an attractive young woman from South Dakota in your eyes."

"My eyes," she asked redirecting her gaze from herself to my eyes?

"Yeah, your eyes," I said. Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I continued, "Listen Dawn, I've been attracted to you from the moment we met," I confessed. "But I didn't know how to ask you out, except to ask you if you wanted to get something to eat, which you often did. I don't 't know if you saw them as a dates, but I did."

While still holding eye contact in the mirror, I saw tears streaming down the sides of her muzzle, "Joshua, I saw them as dates too. I just wasn't sure of your feelings because you never tried to sleep with me."

Chuckling I said, "Hell Dawn we certainly slept together last night."

Turning to face me she said, "That's not what I mean, and you know it."

"You're right I do," I said as I reached up grabbed the sides of her face, pulled it to me and kissed her.

As soon as our lips touched her tongue was in my mouth while mine was in hers. I quickly realized that both of our tongues were longer than before, how much so I had yet to find out. We stood there kissing for a few minutes before I broke the kiss and looked into her big brown eyes again.

She returned my gaze. "Joshua, I'm a virgin, please go easy on me," she said as she started to remove her improvised toga. She dropped it to the floor and leaned back on my sink counter, and tried, somewhat successfully, to strike a seductive pose. "What do you think of my body?"

She stood before me in all of her naked glory. From her shoulders up, and her hips down each leg, she was covered in brown fur. She had the course kinky type hair usually associated with pubic, belly, or chest hair, running from her vaginal area all the way up between and above her beautifully large breasts, eventually transitioning into the fur running down her legs, and above her shoulders. The hair formed a diamond shaped patch over her groin and abdomen and it ran into another diamond shaped patch on her chest. While most would probably consider her hairiness to be abnormal for a woman, I found it incredibly arousing. Her breasts while large by any measure seemed to suit her large frame as perfectly as DDs would've suited her frame before. She had very large areolas (probably 4" across) and large erect nipples (probably 1" long by 1" wide). And I strangely loved every square inch of her that I could see.

I don't know how long I stood there admiring her beauty, but she eventually said, "Normally a girl would take offense when her question went unanswered." My momentary lapse of coherence broken, she continued, "But I can see something stirring in your shorts that I'll take as a positive answer." At that, she walked up to me, kissed me again. She took my hand in hers, and led me to my bed, her tail flicking seductively behind her.

She sat on the edge of my bed, looked at me, and said, "I'm a virgin Joshua, please be gentle with me."

I stroked her cheek, looked in her eyes and said, "I've never been with a virgin before, but I'll do everything that I can to be gentle with you." I leaned in kissed her again. I broke the kiss, and took off my shorts and t-shirt. As my shorts slid passed and released my cock, I was amazed that my previous 6" long "Willie" was now a 12" long "Johnson." Not only was it twice as long, it seemed to be twice as thick too.

"Oh my fucking God," she exclaimed seeing what I was now packing! "You're going to put that fucking monster in me?"

I looked at her, grabbed my "meat" in one hand and said, "I swear, this was only 6" long just yesterday. It must've grown during the change too."

She reached up, and put her hand in my chest hair, and said in a sultry voice, "I'm a bigger girl now, and I want you to put that 'FUCKING' monster in me."

"I will, I promise," I said. "But, I'm the kind of guy who likes to lick it before I stick it."

"Oh, you don't have to do that," she said apprehensively.

"Why not," I asked? "I just love to eat pussy."

"Cause I think that my pussy is ugly, " she countered sheepishly.

"I'll be the judge of that," I said. "Remember Dawn, 'beauty is in the eye of the beholder,' and right now I'm your beholder and I think that you're absolutely gorgeous."

Before I dove into her incredibly hairy beaver, I stepped back and looked at myself in the mirror. Like her, my legs from the hips down were completely covered in brown fur, that transitioned into pubic, belly, chest hair, and eventually into a beard (which I didn't have the day before). Oddly however, my ball sack and an about a 3" long sheath at the base of my cock (3" sheath plus 12" shaft equaled 15") were covered in the same type of fur as my legs, and not pubic hair which stared just above it. My hair was long and curly, like hers, only mine was still brown while hers was black. My ears stuck out of my head, and were covered by the same type of fur that was on my legs, and my horns grew out of my head above my ears and curled back around to end in points just above my shoulders.

After quickly admiring myself, I dropped to my knees, and crawled back to Dawn. I took in a deep sniff of her natural musky scent which sent spasms through my erect member. I looked at her pussy, and found it to be as beautiful as I found her to be. She had one of those pussies where her inner lips spilled out of her outer lips. So I looked into her eyes, and said, "Dawn, your pussy is absolutely gorgeous."

"You think so," she asked?

"Let this be my answer," I said as I leaned in and gave her a lick, along her protruding inner folds, from the base of her tail up to the top of her slit, while maintaining eye contact.

This elicited a throaty moan from her, so I did it again. Soon, I had her lips parted and was tonguing her full slit, and she smelled and tasted wonderful. I then discovered how long my tongue was as I tongue fucked her pussy. As my tongue penetrated deeply into her, I discovered that the anatomy of her pussy was identical to how it probably was prior to the change, only larger. I was delighted to find that I able to lick (for the first time ever) the series of ridges just inside of her pussy and on top of her pelvic bone.

My licking there elicited more moans and an "Oh god, that feels amazing, don't fucking stop what you're doing," from her, as she grabbed my horns and used them as handle bars to direct my face where she wanted it to go. I continued tongue fucking her while rubbing, her large clit (it kind of looked like a very small penis, except without an opening at the end) with my nose, and fingering her ass. My tonguing efforts elicited more throaty moans from her, until said, "Fuck Josh, I'm cumming! I'm fucking cumming!"

I continued to tongue fuck her as she squirted all in my mouth, and I eagerly swallowed it.

In the after shocks of her orgasm, she looked down at me and asked, "Josh, please fuck me now? My pussy is so fucking wet and ready for your thick stick."

"That's good Dawn, cause I'm ready to fuck the hell out of you," I said to her as I stood up. I was a bit unsteady and placed a hand on her lower abdomen to steady myself.

As I did, a vision of her ovaries, fallopian tubes, uterus, cervix, and vaginal space superimposed itself on my view of her lower abdomen. I saw two yellow glowing dots get ejected from her ovaries and move down her fallopian tubes towards her uterus. As I watched, I instinctively knew that what I was watching was in real time. I blinked a few times and looked up into her eyes, "Uh, Dawn," I started. "Do you want to continue?"

"Oh god yes," she said. "I don't even care anymore if you give it to me rough anymore."

"Dawn," I said looking back down at her abdomen and the sight of her reproductive organs superimposed itself in my sight again, "I think that you just ovulated two eggs, one from the left and one from the right."

"How would you know that," she asked?

"I've no idea, but I just watched it happen."

"You're probably imagining it, just fuck me."

"Are you sure," I asked? "I have no idea of our genetic compatibility now, and you may get pregnant."

"Fuck me now," she said with a bit of anger creeping into her voice, "or get the fuck off of me."

"Fuck it is then," I said as I positioned my erect member at the entrance of her waiting vaginal opening, then unceremoniously rammed it into her.

She grunted in pain and dug her nails deeply into my back as I did. "Fuck me hard," she demanded through clenched teeth. "Fuck me as hard as you can."

So, I immediately started fucking her. The room was immediately filled with the sounds of wet skin slapping, as I did as she'd asked. I was amazed at my new stamina as I went from zero to 240 strokes a minute and held it there for 30 minutes. During that half-hour, she came on average once every 3 minutes. Each time she cussed and screamed and demanded that I not cum, until I couldn't hold it anymore, and released my seed deeply into her waiting womb.

As I did, I placed my hand back on her abdomen, and saw my cock in her vaginal canal, the head of my cock penetrating her cervix, and shooting rope after rope of my seed directly into her uterus. I watched as both of her eggs flashed green, and then one glowed blue and the other pink.

When I was done, I pulled my exhausted member out of her well used pussy and flopped onto the bed next to her. "Damn Dawn, I don't think that I've ever fucked like that before."

"Damn, Josh," she said breathlessly, "my pussy is so fucking full of your spunk, I think that I might get pregnant."

For some reason knowing that it would work before I did it, I took her hand, and placed it under mine on her lower abdomen. I then said, "There is no thinking about you conceiving today." Before I leaned over and kissed her with my eyes closed. As I kissed her, I replayed everything about her reproductive organs that I'd seen, up to that very moment.

As I broke the kiss, and opened my eyes she was looking at me wide eyed, and rubbing her lower abdomen. "Are you sure," she asked, tears starting to stream down her face?

"I honestly don't know," I replied. "That's what I saw. How I saw it is beyond me," I said, an idea forming in my mind.

She must've seen that an idea flashed through my mind in my eyes and she asked, "What is it? What did you think of?"

"As crazy as it may sound, magic could explain EVERYTHING," I said to her.

"Strangely, that makes sense to me," she said. "But then again, I do come from a people with a recent shamanistic history."

"I didn't think of that," I said to her, it's a good thing you were here to agree with me."

"Yeah, good thing."

Afterwards, we just lay there, cuddling, watching AFRTS and making small talk about our predicament when someone knocked on the door again. She jumped up, grabbed her bed sheet and headed for my bathroom, while I put my shorts and t-shirt back on.

As I opened the door it was a guy from services bringing us our lunch. Apparently it was the same guy from breakfast. As I took the food from him, he asked, "Are you the two from next door," pointing his thumb at Dawn's room?

"Yeah, that's us," I said. "I'm SSgt Kline."

I heard the sound of a toilet flushing, followed by, "And I'm Airman Twowolves," before I heard her watching her hands.

"She's a minotaur, and you're a satyr," he said dumbfounded.

"Yeah," I said. "Crazy ain't it?

"Yeah it is," he said backing out. "I'll bring dinner at around 18:00."

"Could you bring double what you brought for breakfast and now," I asked opening one of the containers? "While breakfast was good, it wasn't filling enough."

"You're not the first," he said before pausing, "one of you to ask that this afternoon. Hell, you've all asked that question," he said after a brief moment of thought. "I can't promise anything, but I'll pass it on to my supervisor."

"Thanks," I said genuinely. "Whatever you can do for us would be greatly appreciated."

"Thanks for keeping us fed," Dawn said stepping up behind me.

"You're very welcome," he said as he departed.

Chapter 3

We ate, then spent the rest of the day hanging out in my room watching the news and making small talk. After our double tray supper, an NCO knocked on my door and said that the first sergeant wanted to see all of us who'd been changed in the second floor day room at 19:30.

I dressed as well as I could, and we made our way to the dayroom 15 minutes before the meeting. As Dawn and I entered, all eyes were on us. I couldn't help it, but felt as if every female in the room was undressing me with her eyes. We found seats, tried to use them, but found that our tails got in the way, so we chose to stand against the wall and waited.

As we were waiting we both got to see what other airmen and ncos had changed into. Short of bringing my D&D stuff up there and comparing pictures with the folks in the room, there was no reasonable method of determining what most people were, however there were some obvious exceptions to that. There were truly beautiful people with pointy ears and sharp features who could only be elves. There were some downright ugly folks that had to be goblins (4'10" to 5'5") orcs (5'6" to 5'11") or trolls (6'+). There were even some average looking stocky folks of the 4'10" to 5'5" range who had to be dwarves, as they all (males and females) had several weeks beard growth in under 24 hours. As Dawn and I looked around, it appeared that we were the only satyr and minotaur in the room.

At 19:25, we heard a clip, clop, clip, clop coming down the balcony. The first sergeant then walked into the room wearing her BDU shirt on her upper body, but had two shelter halves fastened around her lower body, because, you see, the first shirt was a centaur.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she started, "the wing commander has received orders from higher headquarters, that due to a fundamentalist Islamic fatwa on the changed, we are to immediately start preparing for a full evaluation of all US personnel from predominantly Islamic, aka Turkish territory. He has thus decided that since we need all capable hands to ensure a timely and efficient evacuation, all changed personnel who can both wear some semblance of their uniforms, and perform their duties, as I am doing, are to report to duty for their scheduled shifts tomorrow. Any questions?"

Dawn raised her hand, "Sergeant Rhodes," she said, "I have an immense problem."

"Fuck me," said MSgt. Rhodes before she was able to compose herself, "I'd certainly say that you do have a problem. What is your name and rank?"

"I'm Airman Twowolves, ma'am."

"Is that a bed sheet you're wearing, Airman Twowolves," she asked?

"Yes ma'am, it is," Dawn said, "It's all that I have that will fit. SSgt Kline measured my height and I'm now 7'2" while I was 5'6."

"SSgt. Kline," she asked?

"Yes ma'am," I responded holding my hand up.

"You measured her?"

"Yes ma'am, I did," I said before going into the events of the previous night and that day, leaving out details that none in the room, save Dawn and I, had a need to know about.

"Okay, you two meet me in my office after this meeting," she said. She then addressed the room, "Are there anymore centaurs, fauns (female satyrs), minotaurs or satyrs present here?" No one answered. "Anymore questions?"

There were a few more questions, one being mine, but I decided to hold mine for the meeting with the 1st shirt in her office.

When the meeting was over MSgt. Rhodes walked over to us and said, "Walk with me you two."

We followed her to her office where we found that the recognition plaques that had been on her wall were packed up in boxes. "SSgt Kline," she asked, "close the door behind you."

I said "Yes ma'am," and did as instructed.

"Listen you two," she said in a low voice, "those others up there can still pass as humans to a degree, even the ugly ones."

"You mean the goblins, orcs, and trolls," I asked?

She looked at me, chuckled, and said, "I guess that's exactly what they are." She had a look of contemplation in her eyes, then she asked, "SSgt Kline besides what we've already discussed how would you describe the others in the room just now?"

"Well MSgt Rhodes," I began, "I'd describe the pretty ones as elves, and the hairy of ones as dwarves."

"What makes you say that," she asked?

"Ma'am, I've been playing D&D since I was a kid, and all of those races are in the game." I paused, then asked "Why did you ask about 'centaurs, fauns minotaurs, and satyrs,' and why use those terms?

"For the second part, that's the first thing that anyone who sees us thinks of," she said, "As for the first part, that's why this meeting is taking place. Like I said earlier, the others can pass as humans, we can't, so we're being evacuated tonight. So I need you two to go back to your rooms and pack up any irreplaceable items that you have, please try to stay under 5 boxes," she said pointing to the boxes on her desk, "and be ready to leave here at 22:00."

"What about clothes," I asked?

"Bring whatever you can each fit into a duffle bag." She paused a moment then said, "Inventory your possessions that are getting left behind, and you'll get reimbursed for them. Photos will help immensely."

"Yes ma'am," we both said.

"Get out of here you to," she said.

We quickly departed and returned to our rooms. Dawn to hers and me to mine. I quickly pulled out the 3 boxes that held my role playing game stuff, and the box that contained my BMT "year book", my going away plaques, photo albums, and high-school year books. I pulled out my camera and photographed all of my VHS tapes with the titles showing, each of the models on my ceiling and on the counter.

As I started packing my duffel bag Dawn came over. She threw her empty duffle bag across the room and plopped down on my bed. I could tell that she'd been crying, so I asked. "What's wrong?"

I've packed up one fucking box, and that's it," she sobbed, "None of my clothes fit, I'm just fucking miserable ass cow."

I sat beside her, embraced her and said, "There, there now," while stroking her hair. "Let me measure you, and maybe I have something that'll fit you."

"You think," she asked?

"It's worth a shot," I said as I got up to fish my measuring tape out of my sewing/patch/ribbon/medal tin. "Now please strip so I can do this properly."

"You just want to see me naked again," she teased as she dropped her make shift toga. "You pervert. I bet you even wanted to fuck the first sergeant."

"Well," I said, "Now that you mention it..."

She playfully slapped me, "Really?"

"In my defense," I said, "in Greek mythology, satyrs were definitely over sexed perverts, so I do get it naturally." As soon as it came to me I continued with, "Plus, with an absolute goddess of a minotauress standing naked before me, who can blame me?

"Flattery will get you back inside me you rascal of a satyr."

"Thank you madam," I said with a mock bow, "Now let's get you measured," I concluded snapping the tape loudly.

The first measurement was her hips they were 40". Followed by her waist at 36". I then, at her request and direction, measured around her torso just under her breasts and got 42". I then measured around her torso across her nipples and got 48".

I called out to her each measurement and when I was done she stumbled to my bed and flopped down on it. I could hear her mumbling, "Forty fucking two, fucking Foxtrot? I'm a fucking forty fucking two fucking foxtrot."

"What's that," I asked? Suspecting that I already knew the answer I followed with, "Is that your new bra size?"

"Yeah," she said sarcastically. "It's definitely my new bra size, forty fucking two, foxtrot. I'm now a fucking cow with fucking udders."

"Damn Dawn, I knew that those beauties were large," I said as I walked up to her, and dropped to my knees, "but I couldn't ever imagine," I continued as I hefted them both up, "that you're an eff cup," I finished before I sucked a thumb sized nipple into my mouth, while maintaining eye contact with her.

She moaned, "But we've already determined that you're a certified pervert. Oh, Josh, keep that up, and I'll let you fuck me again."

"I will take you up on that offer after I get you some clothes," I said to her. "Now come here," I said as I stood and walked to my chest of drawers.

I pulled out all of my sweatpants putting them in two piles, one for her and one for me. I tossed her a pair, "Dawn put these on."

"But my tail," she protested.

"Just put them on, turn around, and I'll fix the tail issue in a minute," I said as I retrieved an x-acto knife from my model building tools, picked up my sharpie, and turned back to Dawn.

I approached her, felt around at the base of her tail. As I did she said lustfully, "Josh, keep that up and I'll fuck you right now."

"That's odd," I thought. "Does this turn you on," I asked her while sort of jerking off the base of her tail?

"Oh, fuck," she moaned, "keep that up and I'll cum."

I quickly stopped, and said, "When I'm done here, I want you to bend over my bed, and I'll make it up to you."

"Okay," she moaned.

Back to work, I felt around the base of her tail, marked where her tail sat when the sweatpants were worn properly. I had her try on all 4 pair of sweatpants that I had for her and did the same thing to each. I then using the x-acto knife to cut out the marked section of the seam, and then promptly sew each side and reinforce the top and bottom.

When I was done she looked at me and said, "You're a handy kind of guy to have around," as she stood up and turned to lean over my bed. "Did you know that?"

"I do have my talents," I said as I walked up behind her and dropped to my knees, "I certainly do have my talents," I finished just before I buried my face in her deliciously moist pussy, while gripping the base of her tail like I would've my own cock if I was going to jerk off. The combination of eating her pussy while jacking her tail had her cumming in no time. After she bathed my face with her squirt, I stood up, stripped off my shorts, and plunged my 12" long erection back into her while maintaining a grip on her tail. I placed my other hand on the small of her back so that I was able to watch the show going on inside of her as I fucked her hard again. With 240 thrusts a minute for a full half-hour, she came every two minutes for the entire time.

After I erupted into her, she collapsed on my bed and said, "Fuck, a girl could get used to getting fucked like that. My pussy feels so fucking full right now."

"I'll go take a quick shower," I told her, "You rest while I pack up some clothes for you."

"Okay," she said a very satisfied voice.

After my shower, I threw three pairs of the modified sweatpants into her duffle bag. I knew that it would be a literal stretch, but split up my zip up hoodies, between her and I leaving one out for her to wear. I packed up my BDU shirts, my field, jacket, and my Gore-Tex suit. I made sure to pack my clean towels and wash clothes and my toiletries.

When I was done, I woke up Dawn. I told her to go take a quick shower in my bathroom, use my towel, and handed her the sweatpants and jacket that I'd laid out for her. When she was done, I told her what I'd packed and what she needed to go pack too.

After she left, I sat around waiting. When she was done packing she came back with her stuff packed up, but carrying her Alert bag as well.

"What's in the A-Bag," I asked her as she walked into the room?

"Just my body armor and webbed gear," she said. "Something told me to both ready, so I did. I like you a whole lot," she said with worry in her voice, "So you need to get yours ready too please."

The look In her eyes was haunting, so I did as she'd asked. My vest and webbed gear still fit, so I just had to fill up my canteens. "Are your canteens filled up," I asked her from the sink?

"Yeah, sarge, I got that covered."

"Dawn," I asked after a bit of thought, "Please do to my BDU pants what I did for those sweatpants?"

"Sure thing sarge," she said as I retrieved four pair of BDU pants from my closet and we got to work. She marked them and I cut and sewed them.

As she was marking my pants, I discovered that my tail was sensitive too, and soon had an erection. As I cut and sewed my pants, she kneeled in front of me playing with and licking my erection. What she could do with her tongue was amazing, as she kept me on the edge of cumming the whole time. When I finished, she finished me off, swallowing my load.

"Mmm," she said afterwards, "I never thought that semen would be so yummy."

"Now who's the pervert?"

She just smiled and climbed up on the bed with me.

Chapter 4

We waited until 21:00 and I reluctantly got dressed in BDUs minus boots and head gear, but still blousing them at my ankles. Surprisingly the tail hole in my BDU pants was comfortable. Dawn looked at me smiled and nodded her head. We then carried our stuff to the other side of the dorm and loaded it onto the M-35 sitting there. We put our A-bags in the cab, but the rest of our stuff in the bed. Several other centaurs, fauns, minotaurs, and satyrs from other dorms in the line came to wait with us, sliding their boxes down the center of the bed of the big truck.

At 21:45 our first shirt showed up and looked at Dawn and me with a worried look on her face. I stepped up to her, and asked, "Shirt, what's up?"

"Shit's hitting the fucking fan tonight," she said looking at how I was dressed. "SSgt Kline you Airman Twowolves wouldn't be carrying your gear would you?"

"Yes ma'am we are," I responded.

"Good," she said, "Do you think that you can drive that duce to the Passenger Terminal ramp?"

"Yes ma'am I think that I can."

"Okay you two," she said with grim determination, "get those folks onto the C-141 setting on the PT ramp. Then report to the armory, draw whatever you want, within reason, and then get that duce down to the main gate to start loading up the refugees streaming onto base."

We both popped to attention and said "Yes ma'am!" Stepped back, executed an about face and hurried to the duce.

I climbed into the cab as Dawn closed the tail gate then leaped into the bed. "Hold on y'all," I yelled as I started the truck, put it into gear and drove to the flight line. I drove our onto the ramp, and to the waiting C-141, and everyone in the truck piled out. They set up a pitch line and we loaded our stuff from the back onto the plane.

After we loaded the plane with our cargo, and as our passengers along with those who'd already been at the Passenger Terminal were boarding the aircraft, Dawn and I broke out our body armor and webbed gear, got back into the duce and drove to the armory. As we approached Central Security Control, which sat just outside of the old alert aircraft parking area where the armory was located, faun in a BDU shirt and an od green skirt flagged us down.

As I stopped, she jumped up on my running board, and I saw that it was the day shift element commander Captain Little. "Good evening, Captain Little. What can I do to help you this evening, ma'am," I asked?

"Who are you, and where are you going with this duce," she asked?

"Ma'am," I began, "I'm SSgt Kline, and she's Airman Twowolves," I continued pointing behind me with my thumb. "MSgt Rhodes told us that after we got the rest of those like us that lived in the dorms onto the C-141 parked in front of the Passenger Terminal, to come to the armory, draw whatever reasonable weapons that we wanted and to report to the main gate and start loading up the refugees entering the base. I got the impression that we were supposed to start ferrying them somewhere on base, but she didn't tell us where."

"That was the idea Sergeant But there's been a slight change of plans," she said. "Since you're driving this vehicle, I assume that you're licensed for it?'

"Yes, ma'am," I said, beginning to think that this was a traffic stop, I reached for my wallet. "Do you want to see my military driver's license?"

"No, Sergeant, I don't," she said, "I'm getting in, and we're to meet the others in 'Mike-1's area."

"Why there ma'am," I asked?

"I'll tell you on the way," she said before jumping down, running around the front of the truck and climbing in. "Now let's get this show on the road."

"Yes, ma'am," I said as I put the big diesel back into gear and hit the road like she'd said.

Chapter 5

As I drove, she asked, "You wouldn't happen to have a license for an M-706 by any chance?"

"No ma'am, I don't have a 'Duck' license, but I always wanted one."

"You called it a 'Duck,' why," she asked?

"Because that's what we called them at Clark, ma'am."

"Sergeant, you were at Clark AB in the Philippines," she asked?

"Yes ma'am, first assignment out of pipeline training," I said proudly. "We had three XM-706s there, but the vehicle section couldn't keep them running. Seems that Cadillac Gage put the absolutely worst fucking engines ever made in them, God damned Chrysler-Dodge 360 Mopars."

"Sergeant, language," she warned.

"I'm sorry ma'am, it won't happen again," I said. "It's just that get a little worked up thinking about how Cadillac Gage put 360 Mopars in both the Duck and Peacekeeper, and that they were trash in both applications. So much so, vehicle maintenance pulled all of the 360s out of the PKs in the early 1980s and replaced most of them with 318s. Honestly, since both vehicles were Armored Personnel Carriers they should've both been built with diesel engines as diesel doesn't react as badly to explosions."

"That's well and good," she said. "Are or aren't you familiar with the M-706?"

"Yes ma'am," I said, "I'm familiar with it, just haven't driven it."

"Good, that will make at least one of you," she said cryptically.

When we got where we were going there were 85 of the changed waiting for us. They were standing around in front of one of three of the barn type munitions buildings. Each of them had an 'M' series diesel fuel truck parked in front of it. There were also two of the igloo type structures. One had a single Chevrolet M-1008 ton & a quarter truck and a forklift parked to either of it, while the other had two running light all units, lighting the area up parked to its sides. Capt Little directed me to back in, directly in front of the shelter doors, beside the M-1008. We got out of the duce, and Captain Little then motioned everyone Dawn and I to join everyone else.

While we were joining the others another vehicle pulled up, a guy got out of it and yelled that if we no longer needed the duce, they were talking it. Captain Little yelled back to go ahead and take it.

"Now that everyone has arrived, we shall begin," said an old satyr wearing od green coveralls. "I am Air Force Chief Warrant Officer Coffee, and before we begin this quick training session, y'all need to understand that what's in these five structures have been there since 1973." He continued as he walked up to the nearest barn like structure. "I've been here since then maintaining those Cadaloy beasties since they got here. So without any further adieu," he said while throwing open the structure door, "I give you the M-706A2."

Inside the building were a pair of 'Ducks'. The first difference that I noticed about them was the lack of a raised parapet. The vehicle had a gun shield equipped turret similar to the one found on ACAV M-113s.

He looked around at us and asked, "Has anyone here driven, ridden in or even seen an XM-706E2 before?"

"I have sir," I said raising my hand, "We had three of them when I was with the 3rd Security Police Squadron at Clark, back in 1988-90 sir."

"A former member of the 3rd SPS, HOO-AH!" He then asked, "But did you drive it?"

"No sir, I didn't," I said. "They only wanted E-4s and above to drive them and I was only an E-3 at the time. But it wouldn't have mattered anyway because the 3rd Security Police Group vehicle section couldn't keep those damned Mopar engines running."

"Ah, so you do know them," he said chuckling. "Well with these beasties, Cadillac Gage pulled their heads from their asses and put the same 14.0 liter Cummins NHC-250 engine found in the M-809 5-ton trucks. It shares many components with the M-809 which how we've kept them serviceable this whole time. They do retain a 5 speed manual transmission similar to the M-809's Dana-Spicer Model 6453, with an identical shift pattern. They have the same Rockwell-Standard 2 speed transfer case as the M-809, and have a shift on the fly capacity. The breaks are also similar to the M-809 as they are an air assisted hydraulic type. Any of y'all that are licensed to drive the M-35 shouldn't have too many problems with them," he finished.

"The main subject of our training tonight is in here," he said while walking over to the first igloo and opening the door. "In here are the weapons that CG sent with those. So one at a time get in there and grab yourself one of the wood boxes and then go sit in formation on the ground. However, if you're one of the Combat Comms folks, grab one of the boxes with a big 7.62×51mm NATO stamped on them."

We did as instructed, and one at a time went in and retrieved a not light wood crate. As we passed him on the way out Chief Coffee set a can of break free, a bottle of LSA, and four cloth diaper sized rags on our crates. Soon we all sat on the ground in the extremely well lit area in front of the igloo with a large foot locker sized wood box in front of us. "Open up your boxes, we shall begin,"

The box had a latch that I used my Leatherman tool on, which I passed I on to the next person, accompanied with a, "That's mine and I want it back."

"In front of you is a wood box," he said in an a Slim Pickens like voice. "Inside, you will find one complete set of purpose built webbed gear. For most of you, you'll have 3 pouches at waist level for four 30 round magazines or for a single 150 round assault pack, and for those of you with a 7.62×51mm NATO weapons you will have 5 pouches for 100 round assault packs. Most of you will have removable cloth covered cardboard inserts in your magazine pouches. You will all find that you have, 3 double magazine pouches for 7 round M-1911A2 magazines. There are pouches for 2 one quart canteens which are provided along with two each canteen cups and stoves."

As he continued to talk, I got a distinct impression of him as Slim Pickens character "Major Kong" from the Stanley Kubrick classic "Dr. Strangelove: or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb."

"Your belt has a provision on the right for an M-1912 cavalry holster for the M-1911A2, and an M-7 bayonet scabbard on the left, both of which are provided," he continued. "Now to the meat and potatoes of our little class tonight. Under all of that, you will find a spare barrel kit with a cleaning kit with what you need to clean your weapons and the barrels for your primary weapon, an M-1911A2 in.45ACP with seven 7-round magazines and the receiver for either an M-1969 in 7×51mm NATO with fifteen 30 round magazines or an M-1970 in 7.62×51mm NATO with no magazines."

"Sir I've never heard of the 7mm NATO," asked one of the others?

"That's because some ass hole in charge somewhere shit canned replacing the 5.56mm NATO round with what probably should've replaced the.30-06 in the first fucking place," he said with anger dripping from his words. That out of the way he showed us how to disassemble the M-1911A2, and told us to clean it.

After our pistols were cleaned he started with the instructions on how to clean, and assemble our primary weapons. The M-1969 and M-1970 were both re-engineered Stoner M-69Ws. Beyond the caliber change, they had been flipped so that the rifle now ejected to the left and the machine gun to the right. While the M-1970s could only be belt fed and came with only two barrels, the M-1969 could be configured as a carbine with an 16" barrel, a rifle with a 20" barrel, or a medium machine gun with a 22" barrel.

I looked at the nearest M-706, figured that I'd be driving, and thought of the bow gunners on WW-2 tanks, so I raised my hand and asked, "Chief Coffee, sir, based on what Captain Little told me while driving here, I'm assuming that I'll be a driver. What's to stop me from configured my weapon as a belt fed to place through the forward gun port on the vehicle to use like the bow gunner on an old M-4 Sherman tank?"

He laughed, "Not a god damned thing," he said. "Capt Little, who are your vehicle drivers?"

She stood up called out 6 SrAs & SSgts, myself included said that we were the drivers. She then called out 18 airmen Dawn amongst them and said that they were either machine gunners or vehicle machine gunners. She then told all of us to follow my lead and configure our M-1969s as mgs.

As we cleaned and assembled our weapons, Chief Coffee walked up to each of us, and those of us who were building rifles or carbines all got two 150 round bandoliers of 7×51mm ammunition. We all got a Sight Unit Infantry Trilux for our primary weapons, and a 50 round box of.45ACP ammunition. As he passed each of us building mgs, he told us to go into the structure and grab an 1200 round case of clearly stenciled 7×51mm NATO belted ball & tracer, and he told the combat comm troops to grab four 200 round 7.62×51mm NATO cans, and that when we loaded the M-706s that they'd get a 1500 round mini-gun can of 7.62×51mm NATO belted AP & API.

"When y'all are wearing your webbed gear, have your individual weapons were cleaned reassembled and loaded," he began, "put all of your excess parts and magazines for your weapons in your spare barrel kits. Hold onto them, because there are stowage points for them on the interior walls of your vehicles. When all of that is done, please put your trash in your crates and stack them neatly in the storage building that you found them in. Now get going."

We did as instructed, I swapped my full canteens for the empty ones, but kept them along with my old webbed gear. I then donned my new webbed gear. I put all of my ammunition in its proper pouches, but when I holstered my M-1911A2 it had a full 7-round magazine in the well, a live round in the chamber and the safety was on. I picked up my M-1969, slid an assault pack onto it, and slung it. I left my old webbed gear on the ground with spare barrel kit and second can of mg ammunition. I carried the crate into the structure and stacked it with the others. I then went back outside to wait for further instructions.

When everything was done, Chief Coffee said, "Stow your gear in your vehicles, Capt Little has your assignments. Aftet that, some of y'all will need to help get your vehicles' Mk-19s up and mounted. Don't worry about them being cleaned and lubricated, I do that to one of them each month. The rest of you will need to come to the munitions igloo and start carrying your vehicles' ammunition supply over to it, now get going"

Capt Little called out 11 names and gave them vehicle registration number. She did this 6 times, including Dawn, herself and myself in the 6th and final calling. As Chief Coffee had said, there was a Mk-19 sitting on the center hump of the vehicle. I climbed into the rather large side door, unlatched the main turret hatch, moved to the driver's area where I left my weapon and spare barrel kit, unlatched the driver's and passenger's hatches and climbed out onto the roof. Apparently Dawn had followed me in, flipped open the main turret hatch and had hefted the Mk-19, which I assisted her in mounting.

As we were mounting the weapons, a combat comms faun carrying an M-1970 over her shoulder yelled, "There are reg-numbered boxes for each vehicle in the M-1008. They contain an AN-PRC-128s for each of the dismounted troops and head sets for vehicle crew members. Someone from each vehicle needs to go get the box for each vehicle," she finished before stepping up to our vehicle. "TSgt. Webb," she said to me after Dawn and I had gotten her weapon mounted.

"SSgt, Kline," I said. "Do you need help with that," I asked?

"No, I got it," she said.

Thinking that she probably thought that I was trying to help her because I didn't believe that a woman could do it, so I said kneeling down, "In my time in the Air Force I've found that it's easier to mount a machine gun from above than it is below. And since I'm already on the roof."

She chuckled, "Okay, you've convinced me. Here you go," she said handing me her machine gun.

I took from her, stood back up and walked around to the rear gunner's hatch. I fitted it into the mounting points just as she tried to open the hatch, but only got it halfway open. "TSgt Webb," I said, "there's a handle at the rear of the hatch. Pull it down with one hand and push the hatch open with the other."

As the hatch opened she looked at me and asked, "How did you know that would work?"

"Same set up is on the Peacekeeper APC," I said. As I was about to head back to the front I looked at TSgt. Webb and asked, "Hey do you want me to show you a little trick with the ammo can holder?"

"Sure, any thing to make life easier, " she replied.

"Okay," I said, "I need a full 200-round can please?"

"Sure," she said as she dropped back down her hole. She quickly came back with a can and handed it to me, "Here you go."

"Thanks," I said as I took it from her. I opened it up, pulled out the two bandoliers, removed the cardboard boxes containing the belted ammunition, and threw the bandoliers away. I then, using my Spyder knife cut the tops off of both cardboard boxes and dumped the ammunition in them out. I handed one belt to TSgt Webb and asked her to hold it. I then cut the down one side and across the short side bottom of one box, and repeated the procedure exactly the same way on the other box. I then put both boxes back into the ammo can, the body of each box holding open the cut away end of the other. I then took the ammo can, with the hinge side away from the mount, and rocked it into place. I then started feeding the belt that I'd kept back into the ammo can, with the empty link on the hinge end of the can. I got most of the first 100 rounds in the can and asked TSgt. Webb for the end of her belt. As she handed me the end of belt, I pulled off the first round of my belt, and attached the two. I then fed the rest of her belt I to the ammo can. When I was done, I closed the lid back over the can and part of the receiver.

She looked at what I'd done, then looked up at me and said, "That's amazingly simple and efficient. Who taught you how to do that?"

I looked back at her and said, "No one ma'am. I've been an Security Forces member for a long time, and that just looked like that's how it's supposed to be done."

At that moment the lights in the rear of the structure came on and it prompted me to glance up from what I was doing. "Damn, I said real 'Ducks'."

She popped her head out of the hatch and above her armored shields and looked too. "Are those 'Duck boats'," she asked as Chief Coffee was walking by?

"They're not DUKWs, they're modified M-809s based on them," he said shaking his head. "Everything that y'all see here was intended for the ARVN, but fucking congress cut their funding so it wasn't shipped. When the fucking NVA took Saigon, this stuff was deemed surplus, but instead of sending it to somewhere like say THE PHILIPPINES, they sent it here, where the Turks flipped the fuck out and wouldn't let us use it, so we parked it out of sight out of mind until a rainy day."

"Fuck," was all that TSgt Webb, and I could say.

"Hey SSgt Kline," I heard Dawn yell "where do you want this ammo?"

Turning back to tasks at hand I responded with, "Take off those lids, and I'll be right down." I walked around the main hatch, and dropped back down my hatch and scooted around until I was able to put the ammunition where I wanted it. "I want three cans of the 40mm HEDP on the left side of the vehicle and two on the right and I want the mini-gun can right behind them."

Once the ammunition was loaded, I flipped down the padded covers to make movement in the vehicle easier. "SSgt Kline," another Airman asked, "I have a mixed case of smoke grenades. Where do you want them?"

Since there was a container for 4 smoke grenades on each wheel well, I said "I'll take 8." As I crawled back to the door to take them, I asked "TSgt Webb, how many smokes do you want?"

"I have a holder that will fit 4 back here," she said. "Hey SSgt Kline, my radio won't work," she asked as she was handed her smoke grenades.

I looked at her and said, "The slave start receptacle on the wall there has an on off switch. Flip it on and our electronics should work."

"Amn Twowolves," I yelled up at Dawn, "want any smoke grenades?"

"I'll take 8 as I have single holders for them up here. Also would someone pass me up a belt of ammunition?"

"Sure Twowolves," I heard someone say outside the vehicle.

Chapter 6

Once we were loaded, and fueled up, with our fluids checked and ready to head out. I in the driver's seat, Capt Little beside me, Dawn in the turret behind us, TSgt Webb at the radio in the rear, we were ready to go. I stepped on the clutch, turned on the ignition, waited for the glow plugs to warm up, and I hit the start button. That 14.0 liter turbo diesel beside TSgt Webb, turned over twice before she caught and I was rewarded with that familiar whistling sound.

"Alright everyone This is "Commando-one actual," Capt. Little, said over the radio, "Forward Ho."

At that, I shifted that beast into second gear and pulled out of the structure. The steering was as stiff as the M-35, but if you didn't try to go fast you were cool.

As I drove that Cadaloy beast out of the storage structure, I was humming Steppen Wolf's "Born to be Wild", with my head sticking up out of the hatch. Capt. Little was, thankfully, sitting fully within the hull doing whatever it was that she was doing.

She keyed the mic on her headset and said, "Control this is commando-1 actual, control this is commando-1 actual, over."

"Control, here," came the reply, "go ahead commando-1."

"Control," she said, "commando force is departing mike-one's area. Please have a patrol open the gate for us, over?"

"Commando-1, this is whiskey-12," another voice broke into the transmission, "we're currently at the gate, and will wait for your arrival, over."

"Tango-mike (thanks much) whiskey-12," she said.

As I drove out of the gate, the stares that the fire team gave us were something else.

She then keyed the crew intercom, and said, "SSgt Kline, head to the main gate." She paused for a moment then keyed it again, "Airman Twowolves," she asked, "You wouldn't happen to know you're measurements would you?"

"Yes ma'am, 40-36-42 foxtrot," she said confidently, knowing that the only people that heard her were 2 other females and me.

There was silence on the intercom for a moment before Capt Little spoke again, "Wow! Uh, how do you get to know your measurements?"

"Yeah," she started to answer before saying, "A friend measured me to help get clothes for me to wear."

"Did your 'FRIEND' happen to measure your inseam too," Capt Little asked?

"No ma'am, he didn't," Dawn answered.

"Well those measurements will have to do for now," said Capt Little.

I felt like someone was staring at me, so I looked down at Capt Little, and she was starting daggers at me.

Capt Little then keyed the radio again, "Commandos-2, 4, and 6 this is commando-1. Head to mobility supply, and pick up three one-ton trailers. Collect enough prepacked mobility backpacks & cots for 90 personnel. Search the place for double extra large, extra long Battle Dress Shirts and either extra large regular or double extra large regular Battle Dress pants. If they have them get four of each, over."

"This is Commando-2, Rodger that Commando-1."

"Commando-4, copies."

"Commandos-6, wil-co."

"Commandos-3 and 5," she continued transmitting, "Follow us."

"Commando-3, wil-co."

"Commando-5 wil-co."

As we approached the gate Capt Little keyed the mic again. "Commando-3 this is commando-1. Do you read me? Over."

"Affirmative commando-1."

"Commando-3, I need you to park your vehicle 100m north of the gate just off of the road in a position to give your gunners good fields of fire. Do you copy?"

"Affirmative commando-1, I copy, 100 north of the gate just off of the gate with good fields of fire. What about my dismounts? Over."

"Commando-3, drop two of them and your medic at the gate before proceeding to your parking spot. Over."

"Commando-3 wil-co."

"Commando-5 this is commando-1. Did you copy commando-3's instructions? Over."

"Affirmative commando-1. I copied commando-3's instructions. Do you want me to park in that clearing 100m south of the gate? Over."

"Affirmative commando-5, that's where I want you. Drop two of your dismounts and medic at the gate then proceed south. Over."

"Commando-5, wil-co."

"SSgt. Kline," she said over the intercom, "park perpendicular to the median, broadside to the gate."

"Wil-co ma'am," I replied as we neared the gate, and I executed her orders.

It was close to midnight as I got parked. Capt Little and all of our dismounts deployed from the vehicle and headed towards the gate to deal with the refugees. I shifted the vehicle into neutral, set the parking break, and got out of my seat. I went around the vehicle buttoning up the hatches that everyone had gotten out of.

As I tried to get passed by TSgt Webb she looked down at me and said "Hey, usually you have to buy a girl a drink before playing with her ass."

"Sorry about that ma'am, I was just trying to button up the rear hatch," I replied honestly.

"I'll take care of it once you're up on your weapon up front," she said.

"Rodger that, ma'am," I said as I headed back up front to man my machine gun.

At about 00:30, Chief Coffee came around in his M-1008, with box nastys for all of us, and 5 coffee urns from the inflight kitchen. He also brought 2 cases 1.5 liter water bottles to each vehicle, and dropped 6 cases at the gate.

When the coffee urn was dropped off with us, TSgt Webb said, "Great, coffee, thanks, I've needed that." She then looked around and asked, "Uh, how are we supposed to drink it though?"

I answered while pulling out one of my old canteen cups. "With one of these," as I filled my cup and took a swig of the bitterly strong hot beverage. "I keep telling you TSgt Webb, I've been a Security Forces member for a long time."

As she poured herself a cup of coffee she looked at me and, "Nah, you're more than just an Air Force cop. You're more like Army eleven-Bravos that I've known."

"Funny you should say that," I said while pulling out my sharpie from earlier. "My original AFSC was 811X0," I said while writing 811 on the back of my right-hand (I'm left-handed) and holding it to my chest so that she could see it. "It was once explained to me that if you truly wanted to understand all of us 811s you only needed to flip that 811 over," I continued as I extended my arm out to the right, thus flipping it over so that she saw 118. "Then to fully explain us all that you need do is draw a single line down the 8's new left side," I said as I did it. "Now what do we have," I asked?

"Eleven-Bravo," she said with the truth sinking in.

"Now, that's not all of us mind you," I said. "There are some SAC trained REMF folks who treat thus as a job 6 days out of 9. Kind of like that line from Elton John's song "Rocket Man." You know, "It's my job 5 days a week."

"I know it," she said. "I absolutely love Sir Elton John. But what're 'REMF folks'?"

"Rear Echelon Mother Fuckers," I said as I grabbed 2 bottles to rinse out and fill my 2 new canteens.

"Oh," was all that she said as she took a sip of her coffee and opened up her box nasty.

The night was quite, and save for a few injuries that the medics took care of nothing happened. We were fed and had our coffee replaced at 06:30, and were relieved at 10:00. Our relief brought the one-ton trailers with them and we swapped them from our relief's vehicles to ours. Once we were relieved, we proceeded to the dorm with instructions to pack up a mobility bag with clothes, toiletries, and everything else that would be in one and return to the vehicles and toss our stuff in the trailer. On a whim, I grabbed my portable stereo and a handful of mix tapes and brought it back to the vehicle too. We then proceed back to the old Alert Aircraft Parking Area (AAPA for short), dropped the trailers and parked our vehicles inside one of the Hardened Aircraft Shelters (HAS for short). We brought our gear in from outside. As we were exploring our new home, we found that the other half of "Task Force Commando" had stacked up 33 cots, backpacks, and sleeping bags up against the building at the rear of the HAS (It was an old alert HAS and had air and ground crew quarters in the back 1/3 of it and room to park an aircraft or two in the front 2/3 of it).

The building Itself was a two story affair with a maintenance shop, a spare parts store room, a latrine, a kitchen, and another room on the lower level, living quarters, a latrine with showers, and the pilots' day/ready/briefing room on the upper level. When we got there, everything had been cleared out of the place save for the work benches in the maintenance room, the shelves in the store room, and the ubiquitous gray metal and vinyl office chairs that the US Military must have bought by hundreds of thousands in the 1950s in the day/ready/briefing room.

Capt. Little told us to get settled and to get some sleep, because we had to relieve the others at 22:00 but had to be at the range at 19:00 to qualify with our new weapons.

For some strange reason, she didn't break us up by gender as would usually happen, but by crew and fire-team. So I wound up setting up my cot between Dawn and TSgt Webb. Since it had been a long night, aftet I tucked my three bags under my cot, I went to sleep.

Chapter 7

I must've fallen asleep as soon as my head hit my pillow, because the next thing that I knew was Capt Little yelling that it was 18:00 and time to get up. As I sat up in my cot, I rubbed my face thinking about what time we'd gone to bed. "We got relieved at 10:00," I thought to myself," to the dorm by 10:15 at the latest, packed by 10:45, here by 11:00, unloaded and set up by 11:00, and to sleep by 12:00. Then we got 6 hours of sleep." I chuckled, and said, "Hell, 6 hours ain't bad," as I got out of my cot to go shave.

"What's 6 hours," asked a groggy Dawn?

"We got 6 hours of sleep, Airman Twowolves," said TSgt Webb from her cot, "He's saying that the 6 hours of sleep that we got wasn't too bad, and I'm going to agree with him on that."

As I walked out of our crew room Capt Little was in the hallway. "No time for showers now, we have somewhere to be."

"I'm going to shave ma'am," I said holding up my shaving kit.

"Make it quick."

"Yes, ma'am," I responded and hurried into the latrine. I lathered up and shaved as quickly as possible rinsed my face and headed back into the crew room to put away my shaving kit. I then headed down to the old spare parts storage room that we'd turned into our armory and picked up my weapons and webbed gear, then to our vehicle.

As I started it up, I notice that the fuel gauge indicators on both fuel tanks read full. As Capt Little had her head set plugged in and was getting into her seat I keyed the intercom andasked her, "Ma'am, did they come refuel us as we slept?"

"Yes they did," she responded, "Chief Coffee woke me up to inform me."

"Good," I replied, "I've been worried about refueling ever since we started seeing as we haven't received a fuel chip, ma'am."

"No fuel chip," she questioned? "I'll talk with Chief Coffee about getting fuel chips for these, just in case they can't refuel us."

"Thank you ma'am," I replied.

"Now take us to the firing range SSgt Kline," she said.

"Yes ma'am," I said as the door opened enough to let us drive out.

At the firing range we parked our vehicles in front of the building and proceeded inside once the Cadaloy beasties were properly shut down. We all brought along our primary and secondary weapons.

Before we'd all gone to sleep earlier, Capt Little had ordered us to clear our weapons at the armory clearing barrels, as most of us (myself include) had been carrying our M-1911A2s with a live round in the chamber, and half-loaded machine guns.

So we went into the classroom building carrying empty weapons. We all grounded our primary and secondary weapons on the tables in front of us, and pulled the BDU thigh pocket sized comic book for both weapons out of our BDU thigh pockets. The Combat Arms Training and Maintenance (or CATM for short) instructors began the classroom portion of qualification on the.45 Caliber handgun M-1911A2 which consisted of us watching an early 1970s training film on the weapon. When it came to the M-1969 and M-1970, we watched another movie on each. Finally we watched a film on the Mk-19. While we watched the movies, Chief Coffee brought us a hot supper of steak and potatoes served out of Mermite cans. Thankfully, Capt. Little had ordered us to bring our mess kits with us to the range.

Afterwards we went outside to the range. Since it was getting dark, they'd flipped on the firing line lights and set up light-all units to shine light on the targets from above and behind us. We then all fired what was basically the M-9 course of fire for the M-1911A2. Then those with rifle and carbine configured M-1969s fired what amounted to the M-16 course of fire. Then those of us with MG configured M-1969 & M-1970s fired the M-60 course of fire, except, since we had scopes on our weapons, we fired for zero first, one round at a time.

After qualifications, we headed back to the has, cleaned our weapons, reloaded magazines and replaced assault packs, and headed out to post. Every thing was good until about 03:30, when all he'll broke loose.

It started with rockets falling into the crowd of refugees at the gate, at which point I readied my M-1969. I hunkered down in the vehicle and waited while listening to the radio. I heard Capt. Little calling all personnel on foot to rush the refugees onto base amid the rockets detonating amongst them and calling for the other half of our force. I heard the medics calling for support too.

It was then that I heard the staccato sounds of AK-47s firing and saw the green tracers flying into the crowd. I was scanning likely firing points in my sector (from the gate, north as far as I could cover. TSgt Webb had the gate south as far as she could cover) and saw a group of hostiles firing on the refugees.

It was like everything was in slow motion, I keyed the intercom said, "Hostiles, roof top, 11:00, I'm firing." I didn't wait for a response, I steadied my weapon, put the reticle of my S. U. I. T. on the asshole farthest to my left, flipped the safety off, and pulled the trigger to the rear. The weapon bucked into my shoulder, not too much, but just enough to let me know that it was firing. I held the trigger back as I swept it to my right, barely registering the pink mist as I crossed each of them. At qualification earlier, we'd found that the weight of the M-1969 was a perfect match for the 7×51mm NATO cartridge, and that it was incredibly accurate while firing. As the last of them fell, I released the trigger, and resumed scanning for more shooters. The implications of what had just happened were lost to me at the moment, as I heard rapid tings on the vehicle's armor, followed by a throatier cyclic than mine.

I then saw an armored vehicle come out of a side street a bit to the north, I opened fire on it to keep the crew's heads down and keyed my intercom again and said, "Twowolves, AFV 10:00, follow my tracers." I cut loose on it again. My tracers bounced off of the armor of the enemy vehicle, to little or no avail. I then heard the staccato thumping of Dawn's Mk-19 to my right. I'd never been so thankful that I was wearing ear protection. I then watched the flashes followed by thumps of HEDP grenades obliterate the target.

That first battle lasted another 20 minutes before the enemy withdrew. During the course of it, I had to change assault packs twice, (the second time as the hostiles withdrew). In the post battle quiet, is when the realization and a bit of the guilt of what I'd just done hit me. It was quickly replaced with worry for m my crewmates. I keyed the intercom, "Twowolves, Webb, are you two alright?"

"I'm fine," said TSgt Webb, "But my barrel's a bit hot though."

"I just killed people," came Dawn's shocked reply.

"I did too, Dawn," I responded, "I did too, but are you hurt."

"No, I'm not," she eventually admitted.

"Attention all commando units. Attention all commando units," came the transmission. "This commando-1 actual, sound off with your status, over."

"Commando-1 delta, a few dings in the paint but we're all up right, over," I said, not knowing what I should actually say.

"Commando-1 foxtrot-1 all three accounted for, minor scrapes and bruises, over."

There was silence for a moment then, "Commando-1 Mike, I have a few bumps and bruises myself," came an exasperated response, "but I have to report that commando-1 foxtrot-2 is down all casualties." The next response sent chills down my spine. "I have two KIA, and one critical WIA. I need immediate response from the base hospital, over."

"Commando-1 Mike, this is control, we've already called the base hospital. We're just waiting for an all clear to get additional medical assets to you, over."

"Control, this is commando-1 actual, send them. Send all of them. We currently have a mass casualty incident, over"

"Rodger that commando-1. They'll be en route shortly, over."

"Tango-mike, control, over."

The radio calls continued, most of us made it fine, but we lost 5 KIA that night, and 7 WIA, 2 of which were scheduled to be medevaced out to Ramstein AB and Landstuhl Regional Army Hospital. Commandos 2, 4, and 6, parked out of the ambulances way, and their dismounts assisted with the casualties, ours, the TAF's (Turkish Air Force) and the civilian. With as packed as they were, the civilians suffered 37 killed, and 93 wounded.

I am so thankful that the smell of vehicle exhaust, burned gun powder, and hot barrels were filling my nose instead of the coppery smell of all that blood. As more people arrived, Capt Little took a patrol out to inspect the APC that Dawn had greased.

"Commando-1 delta, this is commando-1 actual, over," came her tranmission to me as I saw her and the patrol looking at the 'dead' vehicle.

"Go ahead commando-1 actual, over."

"Commando-1 delta, inform your primary weapon's gunner that what she shot looks like an old Soviet Bravo-Tango-Romeo four zero mounting a one four point five Kilo-Papa-Victor, over."

"Wil-co," I responded, the blood in my veins running cold.

"What's she talking about," came Dawn's voice over the intercom.

"Dawn," I said slowly, trying to get out what I wanted to say, "A BTR-40 is an old Soviet era armored vehicle. A KPV is an old Soviet era heavy machine gun firing a 14.5mm bullet that will punch holes clean through us, and kill us. You killing those ass holes saved our lives."

"Oh," was all she said.

TSgt Webb said, "Fuck me."

The rest of the night until relief time was quiet save for the moans of the wounded and the grief stricken cries of those who'd lost loved ones.

Chapter 8

Capt. Little decided to have us return to our HAS just after sun up. Our drive back was somber, as three of our number wouldn't be retuning with us. I didn't really know them that well since they were on a different element than me, but their loss weighed on me, because "There, but for the grace of God, go I" rang true in my mind.

When we got back to the HAS several of the base chaplains were there. After we got parked, they told us that they knew that we had some tasks to complete first, but when we were done with them they'd be upstairs in the day room. So after clearing, cleaning, and putting up my weapons, I went to talk with them.

As I was making my way to the stairs I bumped into the chief, "Hey Chief Coffee, I need to ask you something. "

"What's on your mind sergeant," he responded?

"You know how it's USAF tradition to put nose art on aircraft," I asked? "Is it possible to put nose art on our 706s?"

"Shouldn't be a problem, provided it's not offensive or has nudity," he replied. "What're you thinking about?"

"I was thinking about 'Cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war' on the gun shield," I said.

"Sorry but no can do," he replied sadly, "Commando-3 already asked for it."

I thought for a bit then asked, "How about 'Those now abed in England, shall hold their manhoods cheap when any speaks who was with us on this St. Crispin's Day'?"

He looked at me, and In a low tone said, "Seeing the make up of your crew is mostly female, that's cold sergeant." He increased his tone and said, "That's damn cold, and I love it." He paused then continued, "But if you're going to do it do it right on both sides of the gun shield with the 'reach old age and bear their arms and say these scars I had on St. Crispin's day."

"I like it Chief."

"Good, it'll be done by the time you wake up."

"Thanks Chief," I said as I went my way.

As I walked into the day room all of the chaplains were occupied but one, so I walked up to him, extended my hand and said, "Sir, I'm SSgt. Joshua Kline and I'd like to talk to you if possible?"

He stood, took my hand In a firm handshake and introduced himself, "I'm Capt. Issac Solomon. Are you Jewish?"

"No sir I'm not," I honestly replied, "I'm a non-denominational Christian, and I thought that after last night talking to any chaplain would help."

"So you don't have a problem talking to a Jewish Rabbi," he asked?

I chuckled, "Sir, I'm not the greatest Christian around. I've sinned more times than I can count, but at the heart of my personal religious beliefs is the knowledge that I try to follow the teachings of a long dead Jewish Rabbi.

"Interesting take on it," He said. "So you're not one of those Christians who blame Jesus's death on the Jews?"

"Absolutely not sir," I responded. "Jesus's death was God's will. He willed it that the Romans do it in order to protect his chosen people because he still loved y'all."

"That's an interesting personal theology," he said before changing the subject, "Now about last night?"

I spilled my guts to him. I described every little detail that I could remember to him. I also told him that before the Commando Task Force had been formed, I'd slept with Airman Twowolves, and had reason to believe that she was pregnant. I told him EVERYTHING, I didn't go into the pornographic details of sleeping with Dawn, but I did relate my feelings to him.

Afterwards he said, "I can't absolve you of any of that, but based on what you've said about your personal religious beliefs, I don't think that it would even suit you if I could. What I can do is pray with you." At that, he started reciting "The Lords Prayer," which I followed along with. "I hope that helps you?"

"Thank you sir," I said standing, "I think that talking about it will help, too."

As I stood up to leave I noticed Dawn standing in the doorway. I knew from last night that she'd taken it hard. I motioned her over and introduced her to Chaplain Solomon. She looked at me and I told her that it was okay, and she started talking with him as I excused myself.

Chapter 9

It had been over 24 hour since I'd had a shower, so I headed to my rack to get fresh clothes and my shower stuff. As I opened the latrine door I was greeted by the sight of TSgt Webb standing there in her nude glory. As a faun, her body hair was less than mine but she still had it in the same places that Dawn and I had it. Her breasts were considerably smaller than Dawn's, but still favoring the large side (I estimated that she wore a "D" cup).

She looked at me, smiled and said, "What did I tell you about buying a girl a drink first? Now get out and let me finish then you can have it."

I steppe back outside and waited for her to exit the latrine, when she did, she rubbed her hand over my jaw line and whispered, "Buy me that drink, and I'll let you join me. Hell buy me 2 and I'll even let Twowolves join us," as she passed me.

I went in and quickly took a cold shower, to try to get my raging erection down. When I was done with my shower and dressed, I went back into the bunk room, and tried to get to sleep.

I didn't sleep well, as I kept having nightmares of either my weapon not working and me having to say "bang bang you're dead," to the enemy fighters, or the faceless enemies accusing me of murdering them or the equally faceless refugees blaming their deaths on my failure to protect them. I don't remember how many times I woke that day, buy I was dead asleep when Capt. Little woke us up at 16:00.

I sat up in my cot and looked over at Dawn, she looked as haggard as I felt. I then looked back at TSgt Webb, and she didn't look any better. "What a fine lot we make," I said to the two of them. "A faun, a minotaur, and a satyr," I paused. "Hell that sounds like the beginning of a joke, all that the three of us need to do now is walk into a bar."

"Do you promise," asked TSgt Webb?

"Huh?"

"Do you promise to take the two of us to a bar when we get out of this place," she asked again?

I looked at her, and said very seriously, "After last night, ma'am, I think that we all need a drink."

"I don't drink, due to my people's tendency to be drunks," said Dawn, "But I sure fucked need one now." She paused for a bit, then looked at me, "Thanks for introducing me to Chaplain Solomon this morning," she said. "Talking to him helped me greatly."

"Good to hear it Twowolves," I replied, "he helped me too."

When we got down to the armory Capt. Little directed us outside, where we found 6 weapons with a pair of dog tags hanging off presumably the rear sling swivel, bayonets fixed and stabbed into sandbags. On top of each was a battered and bloody k-pot helmet, and below it a pair of battered and equally bloody combat boots.

Capt. Little popped to attention and yelled fall in. One of the Chaplains from the morning, stepped forward and performed a funeral ceremony for our fallen brothers and sister. Apparently our severally wounded fire-team member didn't make it either.

After the ceremony Capt. Little dismissed us to go to eat, as Chief Coffee had just pulled up with marmite cans full of food for us. As I walked I to the HAS, I saw the gun shield of my vehicle.

On the right side it read,

"He that out lives this day and see old age, shall strip his sleeves and show his scars and say these wounds I had on St. Crispin's Day.

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers and sisters, for today those that shed their blood with me shall ever be my brother or sister."

And on the left it read.

"And those at home a bed, shall think themselves accursed that they were not here, and shall hold their manhoods cheap, while any speaks that fought with us upon St. Crispin's Day."

I liked it. It suited how I felt, and what I wanted to convey.

I didn't hear her until she said, "It isn't exactly Shakespeare, but I like it." I turned to face Capt. Little, "How did you know that 'Henry V' is one of my favorite plays by Shakespeare?"

"I didn't ma'am," I replied. "I just liked the movies. The one with Lawrence Oliver and the one with Kenneth Branaugh."

"Good films both," she said as she headed to get something to eat.

As we ate, a half dozen M-1044 Humvees pulled up. Out of them got more of the changed. Every Humvee had 5 personnel, with 3 carrying M-1969s configured as rifles, 1 carrying it in machine gun configuration, and 1 carrying an M-1970.

"Is this Task Force Commando," asked a TSgt?

"Sure is," said the captain as she stepped forward, "I'm Capt. Little, I'm in command of this unit, what can I do for you sergeant?"

"We we're sent in as reinforcements and replacements for those that you lost last night," he explained.

"Why don't y'all come on inside and get something to eat, then I'll get you split between day and night shift."

"Yes ma'am," he said before turning to his people and yelling chow time."

Capt. Little turned and yelled back to the new guys, "Bring your mess kits, y'all will need them."

I was sitting on the bow of my vehicle eating pork chops and potatoes when the FNGs walked in. Several of them saw the gun shield and commented on it. Everything from "That's fucking cold man," to "That's fucking cool man." I said nothing but grunt as I was trying to eat.

After supper, we loaded up and headed back to the gate. We picked up three more dismounts and they rode in the back with the rest.

As I pulled into my parking spot, I noticed that the Civil Engineering Squadron (CES for short) had brought in some Bitburg, blocks to cover our right side from incoming fire if it happened. Then during change over, the day said that the refugee flow slowed after the fire fight, but had stopped completely by noon. They said that they'd been hearing sporadic gunfights in the distance but nothing close. We thanked them and took over the posts.

The third night started out exactly like the first and second night, very quietly. Our dismounts were spread between 2 Bitburg block bunkers to the left and right of the road leading on to base, and our medic an elf female stayed in the vehicle with us.

The night was quit and boring. The only thing keeping us awake was the I incredibly strong coffee that Chief Coffee kept us supplied with.

"Hey, you two," I asked Dawn and TSgt Webb, "How'd y'all sleep today?"

"I didn't sleep for shit today," replied TSgt Webb. "Fucking nightmares kept waking me up."

"Me too, TSgt Webb," I said, "Me too."

"Listen you two," said TSgt Webb, "while we're on this intercom, my name is Lydia. Only call me TSgt Webb when Capt. Little is on the line."

"Yes ma'am," I said. "Then I'm Josh."

"Nice to know you Josh," she said.

"Hey Dawn, you there," I asked looking directly at her from the front of the vehicle.

"I'm here," she finally said, "I couldn't sleep either. I tossed and turned and just couldn't get comfortable. When I did sleep, I dreamt about the poor souls in that burned out vehicle over there, and woke up.

Lydia and I both spoke at the same time and told her that we'd experienced similar.

Chapter 10

At midnight, Chief Coffee came by with more Marmite cans of food. "Eat up y'all," he said. "This is the last of the hot food as the services folks are packing up to evacuate. We should all be out of here sometime later today."

We ate, then kept watch while listening to my stereo playing Armed Forces Radio and Television Service Turkey's sign off, as they switched to AFRTS Europe to continue broadcasting to us. With the exception of near constant jet take offs and landings, the night was quie. At Dawn, Central Security Control (CSC for short) ordered us to fall back to the old AAPA and pack up our mobility gear. Capt. Little explained when we got back to the AAPA that the current plan was for us to bring out what we had, because there was no guarantee that we'd have what we needed when we got where we were going.

We packed everything up, and were loading it onto a duce when Chief Coffee showed up followed by "Hey y'all" he said in a conspiratorial tone, "Orders have been given to blow the armory with whatever left in it. No one will know what's left in the armory once it's blown, so help yourselves to whatever's inside, y'all have until the Red Horse EOD techs get here. Try to keep it reasonable, y'all."

He opened the door and we descended on it like locusts. He opened all of the locks and cabinets. I'd grabbed my nearly empty A-Bag, and went first to the M-9 cabinet and grabbed one of them and 5 magazines for it. I then went to the rack where my M-16A2 was and grabbed it and my 8 magazines. I walked by the M-203 racks, as I wanted one, but Chief Coffee hadn't unlocked them, so I headed to grab a GAU-5A/B and it's 8 magazines. My last stop was to pick up an M-870, but without ammunition. As I walked out Chief Coffee asked to see what I had and he apparently approved of my choices.

He told us to bury our loot under the rest of the gear on the back of the duce which we did.

Just as we got back settled in our vehicles, we heard the sounds of heavy fighting coming from down the taxiway to the south of us, near the passenger terminal and base ops ramps.

"Commando-1, Commando-1 actual, this is Defender-1 actual, over"

"This is Commando-1 actual go ahead defender-1, over."

"Commando-1, be advised, TAF has turned on us. Your commando units here are holding the line against what looks like a combined force of TAF and the Muslim Brotherhood, and we're evacuating what we can. I'm sorry to say this, but you're on your own commando-1, defender-1 out."

As the implications of what I'd just heard sank in I heard, "Fuck us," from Lydia.

Capt. Little hopped out of the vehicle ran over to Chief Coffee, spoke to him briefly and was running back when a Desoto 4×4 pickup flying a PKK flag and a white flag drove into the gate of the area. I immediately pulled out my weapon and laid it on target ready to fire. I watched as Capt. Little and Chief Coffee walked up to the satyr that hopped out of the back of the vehicle. They spoke for a few minutes, and watched as Chief Coffee motioned towards the armory and handed the PKK satyr his key rings.

Capt. Little and Chief Coffee both then took a step back from the PKK satyr saluted him, did an about face and ran to their respective vehicles.

As Capt. Little settled back down in her seat with her head set back on, she keyed the mic, "Attention, attention, all commando task force units, this is commando-1 actual, apparently the Turks and the Muslim Brotherhood have allied themselves together. As of this moment we're allied with the Papa Kilo Kilo. Do not fire on their vehicles, as they promised to escort us out of here as soon as possible. Hold the line and let those evacuating get out. Commando-1 actual out."

"We're joining forces with a communist terrorist group," I said over the intercom.

"Yep, and all that it took was giving them what's in the armory here, and over at the LED, not to mention all of the spare small arms in the other storage igloo. We also gave them every Humvee on base not currently in use. We get to keep everything that we currently possess, in the vehicles. Which, according to Chief Coffee, includes about another 15 tons of crates of M-1969s and M-1970s, that we didn't mention to them."

"Fuck," came Lydia's response from the back.

"What are your orders ma'am," I asked?

"What's the fuel situation," she asked back?

"We're low, but we can still go for a while."

"Good," she said over the intercom. She then keyed the radio, "Attention all commando units, commandos 1, 3, and 5 will hit the Turks and Muslim Brotherhood on the flank. Commandos 2, 4, and 6 hold your positions. Commando one out.

Capt. Little then said go, and I shifted that beast into 2nd gear and headed out of the armory parking lot. She opened up the forward firing port, picked up my weapon and put it in it. She called up commandos 3 and 5, and had them each take a different road to hit the Turks and Muslim Brotherhood their right flank. She ordered all gunners to fire on sight at the enemy.

As soon as we turned the corner and could see straight down the road, down the road, Dawn opened up on another BTR-40. Her 3-5 round burst just ripped the thing to bits.

About 30 second later I see a large puff of smoke in front of me. It took me a few heart beats to realize what it is, "RPG," I scream into intercom. It looked to be heading right at me, but it only clipped the corner of the armor and flew off to detonate. Capt. Little opened up with my weapon and I watched as the red tracers impacted all around where I'd seen the RPG's back blast.

After that, small arms fire enveloped us. The tinging sounds of the enemy bullets hitting us combined with the staccato thumping of Dawn's Mk-19, and the quicker sound of both my and Lydia's machine guns filled the compartment. Thankfully I was wearing a headset, and hopefully the dismounts were wearing ear protection.

A BTR-152 then appeared to our front, and Dawn shifted her fire, and bracketed it with another 3-5 round burst that left it a smoldering wreck like the BTR-40 beside it.

The battle lasted maybe a half-hour. It was intense and violent. While we didn't loose any of the M-706s (they'd all been hit by small arms fire though) we did loose 3 of the M-1044s and the 3 Red Horse M-113s and with all but 8 members of their combined crews too (2 of the M-113s and 2 of the Humvees had been chewed up by TAF 40mm Bofors Anti Aircraft Artillery before the remaining crew were able to neutralize the cannons, and the other 2 vehicles had been chewed up by a 14.5mm KPV heavy machine gun fire). We were also down by 6 of our dismounts, 2 KIA and 4 wounded.

After the battle, Capt. Little quickly assessed our situation, had the medics not working on the wounded and some of the dismounts try to recover and bag the bodies of our dead. With that happening she keyed her radio mic, "Overwatch-2-7 (an E-2 Hawkeye off of the USS Dwight D. Eisenhower orbiting between us and the coast) this is commando-1 actual over."

"This is overwatch-2-7, go ahead commando-1."

"Overwatch-2-7, we just engaged in battle with hostile Turkish and Muslim Brotherhood forces, and request an immediate dust off of our dead and wounded, over."

"Commando-1, how many casualties do you have, over?"

"Overwatch-2-7, we have 2-1 Kilo India Alpha and 8 Whiskey India Alpha, over."

"Commando-1, I copy 2-1 Kilo India Alpha and 8 Whiskey India Alpha, over."

"Affirmative, overwatch-2-7, over."

"Be advised commando-1, a pair of CODs from the Ike are one hour out, and a flight of 4 Foxtrot-1-8s will be over head in a half-hour. Can you hold that long, over?"

"We'll have to, overwatch-2-7," she said with a pause before continuing with a cracking voice, "Because no one gets left behind, over."

"Understood commando-1," said the controller at the other end of the transmissions. "What about your remaining forces commando-1, over?"

"We're working on it overwatch-2-7."

I keyed my intercom with her, "Capt. Little, ma'am, why not make our way to the beach at Kizkalesi near the Castle in the Sea, and get picked up Dunkirk style off of the beach?"

She looked at me and keyed her mic again, "Overwatch-2-7 are there any amphibious type ships in your carrier group, over?"

"Affirmative commando-1. What is your plan, over?"

"Overwatch-2-7, we plan to head to the Castle in the Sea at Kizkalesi, can you get an amphibious vessel to pick us up off of the beach, over?"

"Commando-1, all of the vessels with the capabilities you are requesting currently assigned to carrier group are full of Marines, and do not have room for your people, but I'll run it up the chain and see what happens, over.'

"Tango Mike overwatch-2-7, commando-1 actual out."

Chapter 11

A half-hour later we were parked on a hard stand on the north side of the active runway. We had refueled every vehicle, jerry can, and the tanks of our 3 M-49 fuel tankers. We'd collected every case of MREs that Chief Coffee knew where the location of. Finally, we had the 21 KIAs in body bags in the back of a pair of captured TAF Diamler trucks.

As we waited we heard the sounds of jets over head, followed by the sounds of several explosions a few miles to the north of base. We all looked north and could see smoke trails spiral down and explode again when they hit the ground. Since the vehicles were still idling, Lydia jumped back on the radio, and flipped it back to the aircraft frequency, and we say and listened to the radio show. As we listened, we learned that TAF had sent several F-4s and F-16s to bomb and strafe the base, and the USN had arrived over the base shortly before the Turks and engaged them. So far the F-18s had downed 3 F-4s and an F-16. As the opposing forces closed the distance, we heard the unmistakable, "Brrt, brrt," sounds of the Vulcan cannon we looked up and saw the con-trails of the dog fighting aircraft.

As we watched, one of the Turks tried to escape one of the Navy F-18s by going into a power dive towards and pulled up at the last moment. I have absolutely no idea how she did it, but Dawn timed it perfectly enough to fire a single 3 round burst as he came flying by us like a bat out of hell while banking hard to his left. Her first round hit the top of his canopy directly over his lap and the rest walked down the spine of his aircraft. The F-16 just disintegrated into a fireball that crashed in the field off the southern corner of Mike-1s area.

The F-18 zipped by us, and wagged his wings at us, "Ground unit, this is Countessa," came a female voice over the radio, "What the fuck was that, over?"

I keyed the mic, "Countessa, this is commando-1 Delta, that was 3 rounds of 4-0 Mike Mike Hotel Echo Delta Papa from a Mk-19, over."

"How in the hell did you time that commando-1, over," she continued as she lit her afterburners and climbed back into the dog fight above us?"

I looked over at Dawn and nodded my head at her and she transmitted, "Countessa, this is commando-1 Golf, I just kind of knew where to aim and when to shoot, over."

"Well, whatever, commando-1 Golf, you stole my kill, so you owe me, and I aim to collect, countessa out."

I looked at Dawn, keyed my intercom and said, "She didn't sound too happy about that."

"No, no she didn't," responded Dawn.

The air battle continued for a bit longer until the Turks either fled or were shot down.

"Commando-1 actual, this is Showboat, the Ike Flight lead, over," came a male voice over the radio.

"Showboat, this is commando-1 actual, go-ahead over."

"Commando-1, that fight burned up a lot of our fuel and ammo, do you still have any one down there who can refuel and rearm us, over?"

"We're mostly cops down here, but stand-by please, and I'll ask around, over."

I watched as Capt. Little got put of the vehicle and ran over to Chief Coffee. After they talked they both ran over to the M-49 crew spoke with them, then they ran over to one of the M-809 Duck crews, spoke with them, and all 6 of them ran over to 2 of the M-1044s and after a quick crew swap, the 2 M-1044s took off in different directions.

Capt. Little climbed back into the vehicle got settled and her headset back on, and transmitted, "You're in luck showboat, I have a few supply and munitions folks down here who can refuel you and at least top off your 2-0 Mike Mike ammo, over."

"How long until you're ready commando-1, over?"

"Maybe half an hour showboat, over."

"It'll have to do, over."

Chapter 12

As we heard the distant sounds of turbo prop engines coming in, the 2 Humvees (one of which was pulling 2 bomb trailers stacked with 20mm ammunition cans and an aircraft loader cart) that had been sent out returned along with 2 large aircraft fuel trucks arrived and 2 aircraft tugs pulling bomb racks holding AIM-9s and AIM-120s. The vehicles moved to the hardstand a 50 yards to our west.

Listening to the radio transmissions I heard, the combat air controllers talking the C-2s and F-18s in to land, as a flight of 4 F-14s relieved the F-18s of their combat air patrol over our location. The C-2s once on the ground taxied to our hardstand while the F-18s taxi to the other.

At our hardstand, the C-2 crews fired up their APUs, shut down their engines, and dropped their rear ramps. The personnel came running out of both aircraft (2 from one aircraft and 4 from the other) all carrying bags. They met Capt. Little as she approached the 2 aircraft, saluted her, spoke with her and what I assumed to be the crew chiefs headed to the captured Daimler trucks, and the other two who I assumed to be medical corpsmen went to where our wounded were.

A bit of color flashed In the air near the 2 Daimler Trucks, and I turned to see what it was. My heart broke as I watched as the crew chiefs draped a flag over each body bag as the dismounts helped carry them to one of the waiting C-2s. I so wanted to salute, but I had a job to do, so I went back to it.

I glanced over to the F-18s and saw the 2 fire-teams over there helping the munitions guys and the pilots load missiles and cannon ammunition onto the 4 F-18s, while the Petroleum Oils and Lubricants (POL for short) folks refueled them.

When all six aircraft were loaded, and the pilots were restarting their engines, Capt. Little called the munitions, POL and combat air controllers over, spoke with them, and pointed to the aircraft where the wounded were. They all popped to attention, saluted the C-2s, and bolted to their waiting vehicles.

She walked back to our vehicle, climbed in and got on the radio, "Greyhound 1 and 2, Hornet flight, the active is yours, you are free to taxi and depart as you wish, commando-1 actual, out."

They each said "Rodger" in turn as they taxied to the other end of the runway, and took off one at a time, until they were all flying gaining altitude. Capt. Little looked at her map, then at me, keyed the intercom mic, and said, "From where we currently are, our best route to Kizkalesi is to go up by the whiskey, cut through the fence and follow the farm road to the highway, then it's a near straight shot to the coast."

"Sounds good to me ma'am," I replied as I threw the truck into gear, and headed to where we planned to cut the fence.

Chapter 13

We drove to the fence near the nuclear weapons storage area, and some of our dismounts got out with bolt cutters (they were equipped as part of our pioneer tools) and cut an entire section of the fence out and dropped it on the ground. Once they were back on board, we headed out of the fence and followed a rough field path to highway E-90, where we made our own on ramp, and headed west towards Adana, with the PKK troops in tow.

We opened our vehicles wide open (50 mph) and kept our "Rubber Bands wound real tight," and didn't stop for anything. We followed E-90 for about 45 minutes, hit E-982 for an hour and a half, then hit the coast road that we followed for another 45 minutes. For the whole 3 hour trip, we kept in constant radio contact with each other, so that we wouldn't loose anyone. Thankfully no one opposed our "March to the sea," but we kept vigilant anyway.

As we got closer to Kizkalesi, we got a call on the radio, "Commando-1 actual, this is overwatch-2-7, over."

"This is commando-1 actual, go-ahead overwatch-2-7."

"Commando-1 actual, although it's probably bigger than what you need, I found a ship that suits your request. The USS Tarawa has spent the last 6 weeks undergoing repairs in Crete, and was scheduled to head back to the States tomorrow. Command had authorized it to come pick you up. They have only a portion of their Marine contingent and should arrive at Kizkalesi in 2 days, can you hold out that long, over?"

She looked at her map, and transmitted, "There are 2 castles at Kizkalesi, 1 just off shore, and 1 on the shore. We'll occupy the one just off shore, and it should give us a sufficient defensive position to hold out for the Marines, over."

"Copy commando-1, good luck, overwatch-2-7 out."

When we got to Kizkalesi, Capt. Little keyed the mic, and said, "All commando units, this is commando-1 actual. All commando units operating M-706s, stay on the roadway and allow the support vehicles and Humvees to proceed out onto the beach first. Trailing M-706s are to follow the support vehicles onto the beach. Once support vehicles are on the beach, lead vehicles are to proceed onto the beach. On the beach, all Humvees and M-706s are to provide cover for the support vehicles. Commando-1 actual, out."

Her transmission was answered by a chorus of "Wil-cos."

After the support and trail vehicles were on the beach, we headed down.

When we arrived, Chief Coffee was already refueling the M-809 Ducks and transferring cargo from the M-35s to the Ducks. Some of the troops were removing cargo from one of the Ducks as we pulled into our position on the perimeter and waited.

After a few minutes, Chief Coffee stopped by and asked for help installing the swimming equipment on our vehicles. As we worked he said, "Hey, y'all were some of the folks that looted the armory, right?"

"Yeah, we were," I said, already not liking where this seemed to be going.

I'm sorry to have to tell y'all, but the weapons and ammunition that you took," he started, "well all of it was turned over to the PKK."

"Shot guns too," I asked?

"Shotguns too," he said. "Now, if you'd picked up an M-16A2 or GAU-5, it was replaced with an M-16 lower receiver that retained only its internal parts and a bolt carrier group, and all M-9s were replaced with M-15s."

"Which means," I started, "I have an M-15 an 2 M-16 lower receiver, and bolt carrier groups?"

"Nope, you have an M-15, and ONE M-16 lower receiver and bolt carrier group," he said. "Just know that 'Shotgun News' has AR-15 parts galore. Also, a disassembled weapon is far easier to hide from a customs inspection, and when it's convenient, you probably want to move your loot in here, if you want to keep it."

I'd been a bit miffed, but that news brightened my out look, "Thanks Chief," which happened to be a sentiment echoed by Dawn and Lydia.

After we were done Chief Coffee left, Dawn, Lydia, and I each went over to the duce with our loot, and grabbed our bag and brought it back to the vehicle and stashed it with the spare barrel kits.

As we'd worked on getting our vehicle ready to swim out to the island, Capt. Little went to speak with the PKK troops.

When Capt. Little came back she said, "Well, the PKK won't be helping us anymore," she said. "They only agreed to escort us out, and did just that. They'll be heading back east over the Sayhan River, as soon as we've unloaded the non amphibious vehicles, which they're taking with them."

"Why there," I asked?

"The Seyhan is going to be the new nation of Kurdistan's new border with Turkey," she said. She then chuckled, "Hell, do you know what those Kurds told me?"

"No ma'am," I said.

"They told me that the reason that the refugees stopped flowing into Incirlik was two fold," she said. "On one hand the Muslim Brotherhood was executing the changed on sight, and on the other, PKK was offering them a home within Kurdistan."

I looked at her and thought about it for a few seconds, shook my head, and said, "Ma'am, I'm so fucking confused by all of this shit."

She looked at me, laughed, and said, "I completely understand how you fucking feel."

Once everything was ready, we mounted back up. Our dismounts all piled onto one of the 5 tons and they all started the swim out to the island. Once they were there, they radioed us, and we made the swim out.

When we got out to the island, Chief Coffee had directed the 5 tons how to park on the western side of the island, and was in the process of directing us how to park as well. Once everyone was parked, we unloaded all of the sleeping bags, cots, MRE and water cases and took all of them inside the castle and set up living quarters inside of the towers.

Capt. Little, had all but a handful of us who had our weapons configured as machine guns to swap them back to rifles, and re-zero our scopes. She also set up watch schedules, and had us set up Mk-19s on the roofs of the land ward towers. Then we waited.

Chapter14

At about 05:00, while I was on watch, I heard a series of "Thumps" from the north, east, and south, followed by a whistling sound, and three explosions in the central area of the castle two each to the east and west, and one each to the north and south, followed by silence.

A few minutes later, Capt. Little and Chief Coffee arrive at my post. "Sergeant Kline," Capt. Little said, "What the fuck was that?"

"I'm no expert ma'am," I said, "but that I think was harassment fire from either 81 or 82 mm mortars."

"Harassment fire," she asked?

"Yes ma'am, harassment fire," I said.

"How can you sure that it was mortars," asked Chief Coffee

"Like I said, I'm no expert," I said, "but the sounds of the reports were more like a deeper grenade launcher sound than what you'd think a cannon would sound like. The locations of the reports also make me believe that it was mortars."

"Where did they come from," asked Chief Coffee?

"Three rounds came from the point to out east, three from the castle to our south east, and three from the ridgeline to our north." I said answering the Chief's question. Turning to Capt. Little, "Ma'am, based on where those rounds hit, I believe that they were trying to send us the message that they know where we are and can hit us anywhere they want."

Capt. Little and Chief Coffee looked at each other then back at me and said, "Fuck me," in unison.

Besides splitting up the remaining extra diesel fuel up between our remaining 12 vehicles, and reading the manual on the M-706, the next thirty-six were uneventful. Capt. Little kept in touch with overwatch, and kept us updated on the progress of the USS Tarawa. While, we continuously monitored our less than friendly neighbors. They made no more unexpected early morning deliveries, but we watched them none the less.

At 12:00 on the third day on the island, a naval vessel appeared on the horizon, it was the USS Tarawa. When it did, Capt. Little ordered us to break down our defenses, and pack them back up on our vehicles, (the Mk-19s that we'd used for the island's defense had come off of our vehicles). As we were breaking them down, we heard the thumping sounds of the first night, and mortar bombs starting dropping all over the island.

While under fire, we loaded the Mk-19s and 40×53mm HEDP ammunition back onto our vehicles. As Capt. Little had a decision to make, and apparently she made it. As we all chambered back onto the vehicles that we'd ridden to the island on, she made a transmission to all of us, "All commando units, this is commando-1 actual, we can't stay here, so swim for the Tarawa on the horizon. I say again swim for the Tarawa on the horizon. Commando-1 actual out."

At that I threw my vehicle into gear, drove into the sea, switched on the sump pumps, and when my tires were no longer making contact with the bottom, shifted into 5th gear and pulled out the throttle lock, as I steered for where I'd last seem the Tarawa on the horizon.

As I drove, the mortar rounds were dropping into the sea around us, and Capt. Little made another transmission, "Overwatch, overwatch, this is commando-1 actual, please advise Tarawa, that we are under heavy mortar fire, and are swimming out to her, over."

I could hear the tension in her voice as well as the operator aboard overwatch as he transmitted, "This is overwatch-2-9, say again commando-1 actual, say again, over."

"Overwatch-2-9, this is commando-1 actual, we are swimming our vehicles out to the Tarawa. We are under mortar fire, and are swimming out, over."

"Commando-1 actual, I copy that you are under mortar fire and are swimming your vehicles out to the Tarawa. I will inform them to come in closer to pick you up, over."

A few minutes later another voice chimes into our ears, "Commando-1 actual, this is Tarawa control, I understand that you are swimming your vehicles out to us. I did not know that the Air Force had amphibious vehicles. What are your vehicles so that we know what to expect, over?"

"Tarawa control, commando-1 actual. We have 6 each Mike-706 and Mike-809 Ducks, over."

There was silence on the other end of the radio, and then an older sounding voice came over, "Commando-1 actual, this is Tarawa control, say again your vehicle types, over."

"Tarawa control, this is commando-1 actual, we have 6 each, Mike-706 Commando Alpha Papa Charlies and Mike-809 based Ducks, over."

"Commando-1 actual," said the voice in a slow and clear manner, "am I to understand that you are swimming 6 Mike-706s, which are not supposed to open water swim, out this vessel, across open waters, over."

"Affirmative Tarawa control, we were and still are under heavy mortar fire, and are trying to put the least amount of forces at risk, over."

"Understood commando-1, Harrier and Cobras should be taking off soon to cover your withdrawal. Have your drivers turn to the left as your drifting right. We will move forward to pick you up, over."

I nodded to her, and she transmitted back "Wil-co," as I made the proper course correction.

Shorty a flight of 4 AV-8Bs flew past us, as well as a later flight of 4 AH-1Ws. Shortly after they passed us, the mortar fire ended. Thankfully all that we got was a little wetter and some more dings in the paint from the mortar fire. Apparently, a vehicle moving in three axes is harder to hit than a stationary target. For the rest of the trip, Tarawa control talked us in until we could see her and eventually drive aboard her, not a moment too soon as we had about a quarter of our fuel left as I stopped where the marshaller indicated.

As soon as the last of our brother and sisters were aboard, the navy pumped out the well deck and we made way back out to sea.

Chapter 16

As we disembarked our vehicles, the navy folks wanted us to repack or "mad minute" all of our opened ammunition, that wasn't loaded into assault packs or magazines. We complied with their request, and were able to repack everything that we had left In the M-706s, and lugged it all up to the armory where once the bulk of the ammunition was turned in, we cleared, cleaned and turned in all of our weapons.

There were Marine present watching us as we took care of our weapons. A Marine Sergeant looked at me and asked, "What are you Air Force guys doing with ancient weapons like those? Can't the "Chair Force," afford superior weapons like the M-16A2?"

Paying attention to cleaning my M-1969, I said, "A couple of days ago I was carrying an M-16A2, and thought that it was just all right. Then this shit happened, and I was issued one of these," I continued picking up the barrel and holding it to my eye to look through it to see how clean it was. "After using this, I never want to carry an M-16A2 ever again," I honestly said.

"Why not," asked the Marine Sergeant?

"Simply because this has a 50 meter advantage over the A2 at maximum effective range," I said.

"How's that," he asked? "They're both 5.56mm NATO aren't they?"

"Nope, they aren't," I responded. "These are 7×51mm NATO, which are slightly larger in bullet and case diameter and case length than the 5.56×45mm NATO round," I continued. "Maximum effective range for the rifle is an even 600 m, and the maximum effective range of the machine gun is 900 m," I finished.

My comment was met with silence and the Marines hurriedly vacated the area. Once our weapons were cleaned and in the armory, the more Marines met us in the well deck. We unloaded our personal gear (and loot) from the vehicles, and the Marines instructed us in how to wash the salt water off and our of our vehicles and prevent corrosion on them.

Afterwards we were shown to unoccupied quarters on the ship (regardless of gender, we all chose to bunk as either vehicle crews or fire-teams), and instructed on how to use the showers. After taking showers, that we all desperately needed, we were then taken to the mess deck and fed our first hot meal in over 50 hours.

As we sat and ate, we watched the Fox news feed directly from the states. We learned that the whole fucking world had gone topsy turvy. In addition to Turkey aligning with the Muslim Brotherhood, the more theocratic Muslim countries like Iran and Saudi Arabia had joined them. Strangely, the more secular Arab countries of Egypt, Iraq, Jordan, Lebanon, Libya, and Syria while all trying to suppress the Muslim Brotherhood within their borders had declared that the changed were welcome within their borders. They'd also recognized the new state of Kurdistan, providing that they took a majority of their country from the Turks and Persians, and the strangest thing was that ALL of them had declared solidarity and peace with Israel.

The news anchor then reported that due to ethnic cleansing of the changed by the Turks on Cyprus, that NATO, at Greece's request, was in the process of seizing the Turkish held portion of Cyprus. This conflict was certainly breaking old alliances and forging new ones.

After the late lunch most of us returned to our quarters to rest, while the others hit the gym. I was one of the ones to return to my quarters to rest, while Dawn hit the gym, however, Lydia had other things in mind.

After stripping down to bare skin and fur, anticipating climbing into my nicely inviting bunk, Lydia strolled into the room that we shared with Dawn. She looked at me and said, "What do I keep telling you about buying a girl a drink first?"

I wasn't embarrassed about her seeing me nude. I'd found that when not erect, my penis retracted into a furry "chub" like sheath, like almost any other male mammal. I however, could detect an odd scent emanating from her. I don't know why, but with the scent filling my sinuses, something in my mind clicked and I felt emboldened. I looked at her, smiled, and said winking, "I'd love to buy you a drink, but this is a US Navy ship, there aren't many bars around here."

She looked at me with a look of shock on her face, before stammering, "Really, you'd buy me a drink?"

I'd never been particularly bold when talking to women, but I honestly said, "You're absolutely gorgeous, any guy would love to buy you a drink in the hopes of taking you home, and I'm no exception." As I said that, I felt warmth quickly followed by coolness as my pink glistening shaft started to make its appearance.

Looking at my growing cock, she stammered, "I can see that."

Feeling bolder by the second, I stepped into her personal space, cupped her chin, and tilted her face up, so that I could look in her eyes, and asked, "Lydia, do you want me to make love to you."

She didn't say anything as she quickly nodded her head while maintaining eye contact with me.

"Okay then," I said before I leaned in and kissed her on the lips. As soon as our lips touched, her tongue was in my mouth as mine was in hers. I gently stroked her cheek with the hand that held her chin, and I pulled her to me with the other in the middle of her back. A small pinch with that hand unclasped her bra.

As we kissed, she wrapped her arms around my neck and held me tight. When I broke the kiss, I could see tears streaming down her cheeks, so I asked her, "Lydia, what's wrong?"

"I'm cheating on my husband with you," she sobbed, "but the bastard deserves it."

Stepping back a little, "Why does he deserve it?"

"We were going to 'cum in the new year'," she started, "we'd 'edged' all evening, had started really going at it a few minutes before midnight and were both cumming when the change occurred to me."

"Okay," I said curiously, "I'm with you so far."

"He must've thought, that I was having an intense orgasm," she continued. "That is, until my antlers started growing, then he couldn't get out of the bed fast enough."

"Damn," I said.

"He stood there, with a look of disgust on his face as I changed. As I writhed there on the bed in agony, I begged him for help, for comfort, for support, for anything really. All that he did was to watch with that look of disgust on his face. When it was all done, he left me there, in bed, alone. He then went to sleep in the living room," she said the sadness in her eyes changed to anger.

"Hey," I responded, "I know how painful the change was, I went through it too," I finished motioning to my own body.

"But you and Dawn were there for each other," she said, "I didn't have that support."

"True," I replied, as I stroked her face.

"The next morning he walked into the bathroom as I was looking at myself, and said something like, 'Oh, my god you're a fucking animal! I fucked an animal! I never want to see you ever again, you filthy bitch'," she finished as she started sobbing again.

I looked her in the eyes, and said, "They say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder," as I began unbuttoning her BDU shirt, "so let me behold your beauty."

Once her BDU shirt was unbuttoned, I kept going down and unfastened her BDU belt, and unbuttoned her BDU pants. While maintaining eye contact, I ran my hands inside the waist band of her pants, and around her body to pull her tail out of the tail hole then leveraged them off of her hips to drop to the deck. I then gently ran my finger tips up her body just inside the opening of her shirt. As my finger tips brushed over her brasserie covered breasts it elicited a little gasp from her. I smiled, then continued up to her collar bone and shoulders where I just brushed her shirt to the deck. In the process, I hooked her bra straps with my thumbs and pulled it off of her shoulders too, and soon it joined her shirt and pants.

I continued to run my finger tips down her arms to her hands, interlocking my fingers with hers, and stepped back to admire her beauty.

She was tall, maybe 5'9 or so, her breasts were large maybe "D" cup range, and like Dawn and I, had fur (light brown in her case) covering her legs from the hips down the front of her thighs, and blending into her curly brown pubic hair. Her pubes were in a low, inverted diamond pattern starting in her groin running upward in a line that ended in a narrower diamond pattern between her beautiful breasts.

After admiring her beauty, I looked her in the eyes and said, "Lydia, I think that you are incredibly beautiful."

"Do you really think so," she asked?

"Let me show you how beautiful that I think you are," I said as I dropped one of her hands, turned, and led her to one of the bunks in the room.

When we got to the bunk I embraced her and kissed her deeply and lustfully again. When I broke the kiss, I turned her around and had her face the bunk. I had her bend over and place both hands on the bunk. I then grabbed the base of her tail, which elicited a moan of pleasure from her, and dropped to a crouch behind her. I parted her furry ass cheeks, and ran my long tongue up her deliciously wet furrow from clit to anus, which elicited a squeal of delight from her.

Her pussy tasted a bit like urine, and had a slight musky scent and taste, but the icing on the cake was her creamy feminine lubricants leaking out of her honey hole. I then went to town on licking and tonguing her waiting honey and ass holes. As I devoured her sex, she came 3 times, until she breathlessly asked me to fuck her.

As I lined up my glistening meat missile with the entrance to her love canal, I kept one hand gripping her tail, and placed the other on the small of her back, and like Dawn, I could see two ovum traveling down her fallopian tubes and into her uterus, joining an already glowing one.

Laughing I asked, "Lydia, did you know that you're pregnant?"

"What? No. When?"

"My guess new years, with your husband," I said as I slid into her moist tunnel, and started pumping into and out of her slowly. "Seems that you're going to have one child by him and two more by me, as I just watched two eggs get ovulated, so you're gonna have triplets."

"No way," she moaned as I picked up the pace. "How do you know all of that?"

"I don't know how," I said. "But I do know that if I place my hand over a body part and concentrate I can see what's going on inside like an X-ray or something."

She shifted, then said, "Oh my fucking God, I can see it. I can see the embryo, and the eggs. I can even see your dick going into and out of me."

"I'm nowhere close to cumming Lydia," I asked, "but when I do where do you want it?"

"I fucking want it in me," she said, "I want to watch as you fucking breed me Josh. I want to watch as your fucking seed knocks me the fuck up."

"Your wish is my command," I said as I picked up the pace, and soon the compartment is filled with the sounds of moans, screams, and wet bodies slapping.

"Oh, fucking I'm cumming," she said at length.

"Lydia, fuck, I'm cumming too," I said as the spasming of her vaginal muscles sent me over the edge.

As we were cumming we didn't hear the door open. The first indication that we were no longer alone was when Dawn appeared beside us on her knees and said, "When you're done bathing her insides with your baby gravy, I want to taste your combined cum." She then opened her mouth wide, and stuck out her substantial tongue.

As the last rope of cum shot out of my cock, I pulled it out of Lydia's pussy, and turned to Dawn who eagerly took it into her mouth. The sensation of that tongue wrapped around my cock was out of this world.

As Dawn sucked my cock, Lydia crawled into the bunk in front of her and collapsed, but continued to watch Dawn and me.

"Dawn, did you workout like you said that you would," I asked her?

She broke of the fellatio long enough to say, "Yes I did," before going right back to it.

"Have you showered," I asked a very dirty thought entering my mind?

"No I haven't," she said breaking her cock sucking efforts again. "Why do you ask?"

"Please assume the same position as Lydia was in," I asked her?

When she was in position I got behind her, pulled down her sweat pants, gripped the base of her tail, and licked her sweaty slit just as I had done with Lydia a half-hour or more before. Her nether regions had a hint of a urine taste, a heavy musky sweaty taste and a bit of a feminine creamy cum taste, I fucking loved it.

As I ate her pussy, I was soon rewarded with her squirt as she came the first time, followed shortly there after by her second, third and fourth orgasms. After her fourth orgasm she begged me to fuck her hard. Gripping the base of her tail in one hand and with the other resting on the small of her back, I gave her another incredible pounding.

As we fucked, I glanced over and noticed that Dawn and Lydia were making out like long time lesbian lovers. One of them had obviously unzipped Dawn's sweat jacket enough to free her massive mammaries, and Lydia was playing with them.

After about a half-hour, Dawn said that she was cumming, and as I felt the familiar sensation of her vaginal muscles spasming, it sent me over the edge and I blew my seed deeply into her.

As I pulled out, Lydia asked to taste Dawn's and my mixed cum as Dawn had done earlier. She took my moist cum covered cock into her mouth and savored Dawn's wnd my combined taste for a few minutes before the door opened and Capt. Little said, "What the fu..." As she stood there at a loss for words, my glistening 12 inch long pink meat missile slipped out of Lydia's mouth. Capt. Little looked at it, then at the three of us, and did her best 'Sgt. Schultz' impression, "I see nothing, I know nothing," and she was repeating it as she backed our of the room staring at my glistening pink cock and quietly shut the door.

After Capt. Little left, Lydia looked up at me, then over to Dawn and said, "The two of you taste delicious together."

Dawn dropped to her knees and said "So do you two," before laying her arms across Lydia's pelvis and resting her head there.

I looked at the two of them and said, "While I found both of your pussies to be delicious, are we not going to talk about what just happened?"

Dawn lifted her head, and said, "Capt. Little came in here to find out why were making so much noise."

"And probably chew us out," interrupted Lydia, "but she got distracted by your foot long hotdog."

"Yeah, dumb ass," Dawn teased. "I'd say that our Capt. Little has been titillated by your gorgeous glistening pink love rocket."

"Are you sure," I asked looking to the door, and dropping to the floor with Dawn.

"I'm sure of that," said Lydia. "I can also tell you that Doc Lee wants a good dicking by you too."

"Doc Lee," I asked?

"Yeah," piped up Dawn. "Senior Airman Robbie Lee, our vehicle medic. Know her?"

"I've met her but not really talked to her," I responded.

"Well, being the radio operator, and sitting right next to her, we've talked a lot," said Lydia. "Trust me, she's told me that while she doesn't understand why, but whenever you're around her, she really wants to fuck you."

"I don't get any of this," I said as I started to absent mindedly stroke Lydia's antlers in a 'masturbatory' manner. "Listen, I've always been straight, but I've never been either a 'ladies man' or a 'pickup artist.' I've struck out with beautiful women like the two of you more often than I'd like to tell you. Now, I've just had amazing sex with you two absolutely gorgeous ladies, and am looking to have some more very shortly. Now you both tell me that there are two more ladies wanting to have sex with me?

" 'Absolutely gorgeous ladies'," asked Lydia blushing? "Do you really think so?"

I leaned in kissed her lustfully, and said, "Yes, I do," as I broke the kiss.

"Yes we did," chimed in Dawn.

"And the two of you aren't concerned about my apparently growing harem," I asked?

Dawn raised her head from Lydia's lap, looked at me, then at Lydia, and back to me, "No, I'm not," she said with a perplexed look on her bovine like face. "I know that I should be fucking pissed off that you're fucking another woman, but I'm not even mildly miffed at you."

"I feel the same way," said Lydia, "In fact, I feel that I'm supposed to share you with Dawn, Capt. Little, and Doc Lee."

"Yeah," agreed Dawn, "I feel that I'm supposed to share you with the others, I don't get it at all. I'm not getting a lot of things," she finished absent mindedly running her fingers in Lydia's pubic hair.

Lydia moaning, "Mmm, Dawn that feels so good," made Dawn realize what she was doing.

"This is what I'm talking about," she said flummoxed, "I've never had a sexual attraction to another woman, but right now I want to spread Lydia's legs apart and clean your cum out of her pussy with my tongue. I don't understand anything anymore," she finished as Lydia parted her legs allowing Dawn access to her pussy. Dawn looked at the Lydia's offering for a moment, then leaned in and started lapping her tongue all over Lydia's pussy.

With Dawn eating Lydia's pussy, I leaned in and kissed Lydia. I continued to stroke her antler in one hand and reached in cupping one of her breasts in my hand, and started flicking her nipple with my thumb while I made out with her.

She moaned into my kisses, (she apparently enjoyed what Dawn and I were doing to her) she reached up with both hands and started stroking my horns in the same 'masturbatory' manner that I was stroking her antler.

I can't express the sensation that her 'jerking off' my horns had over me without a common frame of reference, but God it felt good, and my cock was rock hard and ready to go again. I looked at the two of them and asked, "Who wants a little bit of hot goat injection?"

I heard behind me, "Can either of us get the next 'hot goat injections'?"

I turned my head to see Capt. Little and Doc Lee step into the room, close and lock the door. Armed with the information given me maybe a half-hour earlier, I said, "I think I'd like that. But I think that you're both over dressed for what I have planned."

At that both women started getting undressed.

Turning to Dawn and Lydia, I asked, Are you two okay with me going to take care of our new arrivals' needs?"

"Oh, God, Dawn, feels good," moaned Lydia. Then turning her head to look at them then back to me, she said, "Go fuck the hell out of them stud."

"Yes, ma'am," I said as I stood up, turned to face, Capt. Little and Doc Lee. I admired their bodies as they finished disrobing. Capt. Little was a tall (around the 6' mark) black woman with a complexion like a mocha coffee, and decently sized black coffee colored areolas capping her "D" range breasts. Doc Lee was shorter (at around 5'6" or so) had the olive complexion of someone of eastern Asian heritage (I later learned that she was Korean), and quarter dollar sized brown areolas capping her "B" range breasts. I found both women to be absolutely gorgeous in their own special ways.

Capt. Little like Lydia was a faun, and like Lydia and Dawn both had fur covered hips, ass, and legs. She also like Dawn and Lydia had pubic, abdominal and chest hair, that I now found incredibly sexy. Her antlers stuck up and her ears stuck out of her natural curly hair. Like I said, her breasts were large and round, with large dark areolas tipped nicely sized nipples that looked absolutely delicious.

Doc Lee on the other hand still looked mostly unchanged except for her pointy elf ears. Her breasts were much smaller than the rest, with smaller areolas and nipples. Her pubic area was shaved bald, and she had minimal hair everywhere else.

Once their clothes were on the deck with Dawn's and Lydia's, I walked up to them, lifted their chins up and passionately kissed one, then the other. Then without a word, taking each by the hand and led them to one of the other bunks, "Now my beautiful ladies," I began, "Please have a seat."

"Who are you going to start with," asked a nervous Capt. Little.

"Ma'am," I began, "they always say that rank has its privilege, so you my dear Captain go first."

"Please, don't call me Captain here," she asked? "In this setting, call me by my first name, Celeste. That goes for all four of you, in this setting my name is Celeste," she finished.

There was a chorus of "Yes ma'ams," around the room.

I looked her in the eye, "Celeste," I started, (it was a tad odd calling my Captain by her first name), "I'm going to make you feel very good now." I then kissed her passionately and deeply.

As I broke the kiss, I turned to Doc Lee, "What is your name," I asked her?

"My first name is Roberta," she said, "just call me Robbie."

"Okay then Robbie," I said, "The way I see it you have a choice to either sit there, watch the action and maybe play with yourself, or you can be an actively play with someone else. It's your choice," I finished before I leaned in and kissed the hollow at the base of Celeste's neck where it met her shoulder and collar bone.

She moaned in pleasure and tilted her head back. I then kissed and licked my way down her body, squatting as I went. I made sure to stop at her luscious breasts and to give them the proper amount of worship that they deserved. After I was done playing with her breasts, I nuzzled my face in her chest hair and rocked my face down her body nuzzling her hair line to her waiting pussy.

When I got to her pussy, I took in the gorgeous sight of it. She looked down at me, "I'm sorry it's so hairy," she stammered, "I promise to shave it as clean as Robbie's tomorrow."

I looked back up at her and said in a stern commanding tone, "Celeste, you'll do no such thing. I like it just like it is," then spread her pussy lips wide and licked her from ass hole to clit.

I was soon eating Celeste's pussy and savoring her unique taste. From my position in the floor, I watched as she pinched and pulled on her own nipples. I could taste her excitement level in the feminine juices flowing like a faucet from her pussy, especially when I tongue fucked her which sent her over the edge of her first orgasm of the evening. She had several more before she begged me to fuck her.

I had her stand up and turn around like I'd had Dawn and Lydia earlier, grabbed the base of her tail, and just plowed her rough and hard for another half-hour, having her cum on my cock 6 more times.

"Celeste," I said as I got closer to busting my next nut. "I'm going to cum, where do you want it?"

"Oh fuck me," she panted, "Fucking cum in me. It's a safe day."

I had a hand on the small of her back, and saw each of her ovaries spit put an ovum, and watched as they moved down her fallopian tubes just as I had with Dawn and Lydia. Still pounding her poor pussy I asked, "Are you sure? I'm watching you ovulate in real time, and if I cum in you are going to get pregnant just like Dawn and Lydia."

"Oh god," she moaned as she came again, "Cum in me already, I told you that I'm safe,"

"Okay," I grunted as the spasming of her pussy sent me over the edge. "Here it cums," I finished as I watched my seed fill up her uterus and the two ovum change colors to indicate that they were now embryos.

As I pulled out of Celeste's pussy, Robbie dropped to her knees and tried desperately to swallow my shaft. "Celeste," she said between licks and sucks, you and taste wonderful on his dick." She then looked at me and said, "Please fuck my pussy now, you don't have to lick it, I need you to fill me up right fucking now."

"Are you sure," I asked before showing her my tongue?

"Fuck what tongue you have," she said, "but in sure."

"Okay," I said to her, as I pulled my rock solid cock out of her mouth, "lay on the bed, and get ready." I tested the waters of her pussy, and she was indeed ready to get fucked so I gave it to her just as rough as I had just given it to Celeste. A half-hour and 6 more orgasms later, I told her the same thing that I'd told Celeste as I'd seen her too ovulate. She told me that it was also a safe day for her, and I bathed her insides with my seed. After I watched her ovum change colors to embryos, I pulled out of her and collapsed on the floor.

The five of us rested for a bit, and made idle small talk about where we a were from, and other small things about our selves to the others. Eventually Celeste and Robbie decided to head back to their individual quarters, leaving Dawn. Lydia, and I to clean up, and hit the rack.

Chapter 17

At noon, the next day a pair of MH-53s flew in from Aviano AB Italy, bringing in a group of a dozen USAF psychiatrists, and med-techs to do psych-evals on us and an equal amount of Military-Intelligence types to debrief the lot of us. So During the little over 5 days that we spent aboard the USS Tarawa, when we Weren't getting psyche evaled or debriefed, our time was taken up with eating, sleeping, working out, and most importantly fucking.

The psychiatrists talked to all of us, but they said that any of us who'd already spoken with the chaplains at Incirlik were a step ahead of the game. They said, that like in "Catch 22," the act of seeking help, proved that we weren't crazy, but official psych evals would prove it.

The debriefings by the Military intelligence folks, consisted of one on one and crew interviews in addition to the tedious writing of after action reports, and possible medal recommendations. I personally put Dawn up for the Bronze Star for killing those BTR-40s, BTR-152, and F-16, thinking that at the least, she'd get credit for the kills.

The morning after the "Head Shrinkers" came aboard, Lydia asked me during our morning post coitus cuddle if I would mind if she wired my portable stereo into Henry V's (our vehicle's new name) intercom. I told her that I loved the idea, so when not busy debriefing, getting her head shrunk, eating, working out, or fucking, she was down on the vehicle deck wiring my portable stereo into Henry V's intercom.

During our whole voyage aboard the USS Tawawa we'd watch on the news at chow time about how the situation world wide got progressively worse. The news even reported that due to the worsening conditions world wide, congress wad starting to discuss a bill that would re-implement the draft. The bill also was supposed to reopen closed military bases and reactivate retired aircraft, armored vehicles, and ships on a "last closed/retired, first reopened/reactivated basis. President Clinton however, had immediately issued a statement that he wouldn't sign it, but President-elect Bush said that he would.

By the time got to Rota, Spain, on the afternoon of Saturday, January 13th, the whole world was practically in flames. We'd learned on the news that even more "fundamental" religious, and xenophobic groups and countries were starting to ethnically cleanse their countries and regions of the changed, and we had no idea what was going to become of us.

After the ship docked, we quickly disembarked with our personal gear and weapons, as the Navy unloaded our vehicles. A full Battalion of Marines was present and in formation waiting for us to disembark so that they could board. They watched as our bullet dinged vehicles were unloaded, and set on the dock beside their fresh vehicles.

We quickly loaded up onto our vehicles, to head over to the flight line. As I waited for the glow plug light to go out, I heard some Marine yelled "Battalion, Atten-Hut." I heard all of their boot heels come together in unison. Before I turned over the ignition, I heard "Present Harms." The as the Cadaloy beast came to life, and I put it into gear, I turned to look to my right, and saw Celeste standing at attention, saluting back. As I drove between the Marines and their vehicles, I glanced into my spider webbed right side mirror and saw that Lydia was also standing and saluting.

After our impromptu pass and review, I drove straight out to the flight line to load our vehicles up onto a waiting C-5B. We only spent enough time on the ground in Spain to load up our vehicles, before we and the "head shrinkers" boarded and flew back to the States, specifically, to McGuire AFB, NJ.

Once we were on the ground at McGuire, turned in our customs paperwork, and had our stuff gone over by Customs drug dogs, we were told where to go on Ft. Dix, while the trucks were told where to go on McGuire. Our barracks had an armory in the basement and we turned our weapons and ammunition in to it. And afterwards we were taken to the nearest chow hall fed, then quartered for the night.

We had the next day, Sunday, off and whether we were religious or not, most of us hit the base chapel for morning services.

Chapter 18

The next morning, after breakfast, we received further debriefings from US Army Ordnance Corps folks up from the Aberdeen Proving Grounds in Maryland, engineers from Textron Marine and Land Systems, and some officers and senior non-comms from the Office of the Chief of USAF Security Forces, out of Kirkland AFB, NM. Regarding our vehicles and various weapons. They asked how we liked them, if we preferred them over the 5.56mm NATO M-16A2s. They even asked us if anyone had shot someone with both weapons and what our opinion of the differences between the two.

Chief Coffee spoke up at that last question. "I carried an M-16 as a young USAF Security Policeman at Bien Hoa AB, Republic of Vietnam, and fired it in anger during the Tet offensive in 1968. So I can safely say with absolute certainty that the 7×51mm is vastly superior to the 5.56×45mm, in every measurable manner. It has a better range, is flatter shooting, and more lethal." He took a swig of lifer juice (hot black coffee) and continued, "The M-16A2 is what happens when you allow a service more interested in long range target shooting than actual combat shooting to design a combat rifle," he said taking another swig. "The USMC has been wearing body armor of one kind or another since Korea, yet they stupidly lengthened the pull of the stock 5/8th of an inch. Eugene Stoner offered to put a fully adjustable rear sight on the M-16, but someone justifiably nixed that idea saying something to the effect of 'the average infantryman will fiddle with it and not be able to hit a target when necessary,' yet that's exactly what the Marines did on the A2. Another issue with it is that even if the troops leave it alone, there is no guarantee that the troops will even use the damned thing. There is a very good chance that the troops will leave it set where they set it the last time they visited the qualification range, and then try shooting out to longer ranges, and shoot low. The three round burst feature is a ridiculous idea, that can be circumvented by simply repeatedly pulling the trigger," he continued holding up his hand and flexed his index finger like he was holding a weapon and rapidly pulling a trigger. "The brass deflector is of dubious utility, and only adds needless weight. The heavier barrel is only found from the front sight A-frame forward with everything under the hand guards still being the same thickness as the A1, and is also of dubious utility and adds more unnecessary weight. The 5 hole compensator, not a flash suppressor," he emphasized, "but a compensator, is a poorly conceived and idiotic design. I've seen British L-1A1s, and the British wisely put a 5 slot M-14 style flash suppressor on it. Those 5 slots are located at the 8:00, 10:00, 12:00, 2:00, and 4:00 positions, giving it better coverage in dispersing the flash, while minimizing the amount of dust kicked up. Finally, the only features of the A2 that are worth a fuck are the round top or bottom hand guards, the tapered slip ring, the square front sight post, and the improved pistol grip, most of which can be retrofitted to older M-16s and M-16A1s."

When he finished, the Army Ordnance Corps folks hemmed and hawed like they'd been called out for the gross incompetence that they were known for, until one of their number changed the topic to the M-706s. They and the Textron folks asked about how we liked the vehicles and if we had any suggestions for improvements.

I spoke up this time. "While I actually like the M-706, and think that it is a better armored fighting vehicle than either the Peacekeeper Truck Armored Convoy or the Humvee, I also realize that it had severe limitations that hinder its usefulness as an Armored Personnel Carrier," I said standing up. "The fire-teams that are carried have to deploy out of the side or rear doors. The fact that those doors have to be closed by someone remaining in the vehicle, be that be the driver, or a gunner, leaves the vehicle vulnerable to attack in that moment. A better vehicle would be one with hydraulically opened and closed rear ramp, or clam shell doors. My suggestion, as strange as it might sound, would be to either visit the Aberdeen Proving Grounds, and photograph and measure the angles the welded armor plates of old captured WW-II era German SdKfz-250 & 251 half tracks, or contact their original manufacturers and request their blue prints. Then recreate them out of Cadaloy, and mate to those bodies the engine, suspension, running gear of a 5 ton M series truck. Then arm it with a one man turret mounting both a 40mm automatic grenade launcher, and a 7.62 NATO mini-gun."

While the engineers from Textron were furiously writing what I'd said on their note pads and talking amongst themselves, a Major Crain from the Chief of Security Forces asked, "Why use the SdKfz-250 as the basis for the vehicle and why arm it with a Mk-19 and mini-gun?"

"Well, sir," I started, "I've operated that miserable P. O. S. known as the Peacekeeper, and have always assumed that we got it in lieu of something better like the M-706, because from a distance it resembles a commercially built truck. So, I suggested a wheeled version of the SdKfz-250 because it too would also resemble a truck at a distance. Now regarding the armament, regardless of whether we use it on base or out in the missile field, the vehicle needs a 7.62 mm NATO machine gun and a 40mm automatic grenade launcher. It was a good enough combination for the AH-1G, so should suit our needs perfectly.

The Major Crain spoke again, "Would it have to be an SdKfz-250? Could it be another vehicle not associated with NAZIs?"

"Gentlemen," one of the Textron engineers said interrupting us. "We at Textron Marine and Land Systems may already have what you're looking for," he began. "We are currently building the M-1117 for the US Army Military Police Corps. It is based on the same vehicles that you're M-706A2s out side are, so should suit your needs."

"Sir," I asked, "How many personnel does it carry? Because those vehicles outside can carry a crew of 3, and two full fire-teams of 4 each. I believe that any vehicle we'd get needs to be close to that."

"Well, Sergeant," he started, "It has a crew of 3, and carries 2 troops."

I looked around the room, then at Celeste, Chief Coffee, the Major, before finally settling on the Textron engineers, "Sir, I'm sorry, but that just won't do."

Another member of the Textron team stood up. "We do have another vehicle that may suit what you're describing sergeant," he began. "However it is currently out of production, and we stopped trying to market it last year," he continued. "It has a crew of 3 and carries 9 troops," he finished.

"Sounds good to me sir," I said. "But the decision to buy said vehicle isn't mine to make," I continued making eye contact with Major Crain. "It belongs to the brass up the chain of command, sir."

Major Crain looked at me, Celeste, Chief Coffee, and finally at the Textron engineers, and said, "Let's evaluate the vehicle and we'll see what happens." He then looked at his watch and said, "Looks like it's time for lunch, if Col. Bryant doesn't mind," he continued looking to the Army lieutenant colonel, who just nodded his head, "I think we should head over to the DFac and get something to eat. Meet back here at 13:00, dismissed."

After lunch, for the rest of the day, a few of the other matters that were discussed were foot wear, helmets (along with other head gear), and uniform pants for folks with hooves, horns, antlers, and tails like Dawn, Lydia, Celeste, and myself. I input my solution to the problem, and even showed the panel what I was talking about, and actually got positive feedback on it.

At the end of the day, before we were dismissed for evening chow, Celeste stood up and spoke to all of us. "In order to occupy our time, and prevent you all from becoming fat and lazy," she said. "Starting tomorrow, we will conduct Army style PT in the mornings before chow."

Her news filled the room with groans of displeasure.

"Quiet down!" She ordered before continuing, "Then after chow I want the vehicle crews to report to Chief Coffee and myself in the first floor day room. I also want those of you on the fire-teams are to report to MSgt Foxx in the second floor day room. Each group will then be briefed on my planned keep busy activities." She let that sink in before yelling, "Dismissed!"

As we filled out of the auditorium I wondered what she had planned for us.

Chapter 19

The next morning (Tuesday), after our morning PT (calisthenics and a 2 mile formation run), showers and breakfast, Dawn, Lydia, and I met Celeste, and Chief Coffee and the vehicle crews into the first floor day room. "All right," she began. "We're currently in an operational limbo status as our psych-evals are being finalized and the Air Force decides what to do with us. So in order to keep us occupied, I've arranged for the folks from Textron to show us how to repair our battle damaged vehicles."

As she said that, I remembered seeing her and Chief Coffee having lunch with and talking to two of the Textron representatives about something. At the time, I wondered what it was about, and now I knew.

"So, let's get going," she continued, "and not keep those folks from Textron waiting."

At that, we all headed outside, and loaded up in our vehicles and proceeded to the post motor pool to get to work on them. The folks from Textron with the assistance of the Army motor pool folks, showed us how to use the side wheel grinders to smooth out bullet strikes, and prepare the spots to be repaired. We were shown how to remove our shattered vision blocks, and prepare the holes for replacements. We spent the day doing the prep work, and we're told by the Textron reps, that our armor patches were being shipped to us.

Most of the vehicles had taken bullet strikes to the gun shield and Chief Coffee assured us that we all had stencils of what was written on them in map tubes in the vehicle.

On Wednesday, while we waited for the repair parts and patches to arrive, we learned how to change the fluids in our vehicles, and basic maintenance on our vehicles. We also spent an hour that evening pulling more mobility and cold weather gear from Army stocks.

On Thursday, the Textron engineers and Major Crain came in and asked to speak with me. Once we were in an office, Major Crain asked, "Sergeant Kline, if the brass doesn't like the vehicle that Mr. Waterman of Textron Marine and Land Systems was talking about, do you have any other suggestions?"

"Yes sir, I do," I said confidently. "But why ask me? There are probably engineers galore around who could come up with suggestions for you."

"We're asking you sergeant," said Mt. Waterman, "because for some reason, you see things that we engineers are overlooking."

"Well sirs," I said, "the only other vehicle that I can think of that might work, would be an updated version of the British Saracen APC. Although, I'd suggest ditching the problematic "H" shaped drive train, and putting it on an independent six wheel drive suspension system, with individual gear boxes at each tire similar to what's found on the Humvee, but strengthened for a 15-20 ton load."

"Sergeant Kline," asked Mr. Waterman, "How do you know about all of these military vehicles?"

"I'm an avid military model builder sir," I stated. "Sir, at Incirlik, I had 1/32nd and 1/35th scale aircraft hanging from my dorm room ceiling, and all of my counter space was covered in 1/35th scale military vehicles. I've learned a lot about them as I built them sir."

Major Crain looked at me and started laughing, "That explains a lot," he said before dismissing me.

Thursday afternoon our repair kits arrived, and Friday was spent installing them, and spray painting them.

Since all of our vehicles had been repaired, repainted, and had received routine maintenance. Saturday after our morning PT each morning, Dawn, Lydia, Robbie, and I all retreated to my quarters to fuck our brains out. We did stop long enough for meals, and on Saturday to watch President Bush get sworn in (which conceded with lunch).

Chapter 20

On Sunday at PT, Celeste and MSgt. Foxx informed the lot of us that since MSgt Foxx had gone to Ranger school some years before, he'd asked for permission from Major Crain and Celeste to put the fire-teams through the older British Army Commando course. The reason, he stated, of using the Commando course in lieu of the Ranger course was primarily because we were operating M-706 Commandos (most of us reasoned that we'd have to jump through too many Army hoops to get into Ranger school, and this was quicker). They had granted him permission to do so, under the condition that he put the vehicle crews under the same training regime. She then ordered us to pack up our mobility gear, uniforms, and lock up anything we wanted to keep secure in our wall lockers, because we were going to be on an extended bivouac.

We were given a list of things to pack in our backpacks, and what to pack in our duffle bags. So that afternoon, we packed our bags and got ready. The next morning, we loaded up our duffels, and some of our gear on the M-809s, and those drove a way to the bivouac site. We then drew our weapons and magazine pouch weights, shouldered our backpacks, and road marched from the barracks to the bivouac site twenty miles away. Thus, we began our training. We spent the next 20 weeks undergoing the most intense training that I'd ever experienced, but strangely near all of us passed.

During our training, we had other Ranger qualified Security Forces there as instructors, and Ranger qualified Army observers monitoring the intensity of our training. So when we graduated, a Ranger qualified US Army major pinned each of us with a new USAF specific "Air Commando" tab.

The funniest thing about the training course was not when the Army observers noticed that we had females in the unit, but when they realized that four of them (Celeste, Dawn, Lydia, and Robbie) were undergoing it while pregnant.

Upon graduation from the Air Commando course, everyone except Celeste, Dawn, Lydia, and Robbie, were sent down to Ft. Benning, Ga. For jump school. We spent another 6 weeks down there as first we received our jump qualifications, followed by learning how to load our vehicles into a C-141, push them out, jump put ourselves, and get them combat ready on the ground.

When we completed our training, we returned to Ft. Dix, and discovered that we'd be training the next bunch of Air Commando trainees.

When we got back to Ft. Dix on July 20th we held a ceremony in the auditorium where we'd had the big debriefing with the Textron engineers, and AFOCSF personnel back on January 15th. The gist of the ceremony was the formal birth of the new 39th Hussar and 39th Fusilier Squadrons of the 39th Security Forces Group, part of the new 39th Expeditionary Base Wing as well as the new 327th Commando Training Squadron. During the ceremony, every one of us were promoted one pay grade, and now Major Little was named the new Squadron Commander of the 327th. Dawn had been promoted to Airman 1st Class during training, so she as well as the other A1Cs in the unit got bumped up to Senior Airmen. We also found out that while about 33% of us would become Air Commando instructors the rest of us would take on leadership roles in the new 39th HS and 39th FS. Those of us who'd been vehicle crews (both the future instructors and those of us remaining in the unit), would get to evaluate our new LAV-300s and LAV-600s, because the first of them had arrived while we'd been at jump school.

After the ceremony we were dismissed until Monday July 23, so I looked around for my beautiful ladies. When I found Dawn, Lydia, and Robbie, all three were elated to see me. I know that it had been only a month and a half since I'd last seen them, but I couldn't believe how absolutely gorgeous they all looked, so I told them, and they all blushed and simply said, "Later."

They told me that since they'd all been assigned to the 327th, they'd been given permission to move off base. They also told me that they'd found a practical mansion of a house, and had moved in, and were waiting for me to join them. They were understandably up set to learn that I was going into the 39th SSS. Lydia and Robbie had used their evacuation pay outs to put down-payments on an SUV apiece, while Dawn used hers to get her 1978 Chevy K-5 Blazer shipped to her from South Dakota.

We then went over to the barracks where I packed up the remainder of my stuff in my wall locker, and headed down to Dawn's Blazer and we headed over to the house, but nor before we stopped at the base BK on our way off post.

The house was a huge 3 story Victorian with three of those "Towers." The first in the front, directly over the front door, the second on the front right corner of the house, and the third on the left side, about midway down the wall.

On the first floor, after you'd come up on the front porch and passed through the front door and vestibule and into a wide main hallway. There was a parlor to the left and a library (with part of the second tower) to the right. The hallway then narrowed because it shared the space with the grand staircase, which was directly to the right. At this point the dining room (it had part of the third tower) was to the left and another hallway to the right that led to the first floor half bath, a lobby and to the side porch.

As I looked into the dining room, I noticed that the double doors leading into it had multiple panels of glass in them, and lace curtains attached at both the top and bottom to them. I then stepped back into the main hall, and saw the same kinds of double doors leading into the parlor and library.

Beyond the grand staircase, was what could only be described as the servants staircase and another small roughly square hallway, and beyond that sat the kitchen, with a butler's closet to the left, (that led back into the dining room), and a pantry behind it.

From the kitchen there was another lobby that led onto the back porch and into the huge back yard. It had an in ground swimming pool, with a pool house, and was surrounded by an eight foot tall privacy fence.

To say I was impressed was an understatement. Each of the rooms was quite spacious, easily at least 15'×15' (I later learned that they were around 13'-14'×17'-18', but still). "How can you three afford this place," I asked Lydia?

"It isn't three of us living here," she said, "It's four, Dawn, Robbie, Celeste, and myself."

"All four of you," I asked stupidly?

"Yeah," she said with a shrug. "With everything that's happened, it made the most sense, plus, our kids will grow up with their half-siblings," she finished stroking her belly.

"Cool," was all that I could think of to say.

The tour then went up the stairs to the second floor. On the second floor were four bedrooms, each with the same kinds of doors as down stairs, except these had frosted glass. Each of the bedrooms was over a room below. One over the parlor (planned nursery), one over the library (Lydia), one over the dining room (Robbie), and one over the kitchen (Dawn). There was a study in the center front in the tower over the front door, and it had transparent glass doors. Finally there were two full bathrooms, which happened to be over the pantry and butler's closet.

The tour ended on the third floor. I assumed that this would be where my and Celeste's bedrooms would be, but I was in for shock as to how large the master suite was.

It seemed that at some point in time, the owner of the house had converted the attic space to a massive master suite. It had a mostly open floor plan, save for an obvious support wall that bisected the space directly to the left as you came up the stairs. It also happened to be the wall that most of the house's chimneys were built into.

At the top of the stairs I saw a sitting area, with a semi circular sectional sofa in the third tower, directly ahead of me. I could see the bathroom over to my right in the corner over the bathroom above the butler's closet. As I looked around I was amazed by how much natural light flooded the space. You'd think that a former attic would be a dark place, but the former owner had put in enough skylights, and dormers that you weren't wanting for light.

In the center of the support wall was another pair of doors with multiple frosted glass panels and lace curtains. I opened them and stepped inside a truly massive room. It had another sitting area in the front tower, but what caught my eye the most was Celeste was laying naked in all of her pregnant glory upon a circular bed taking up the entirety (approximately 10' in diameter) of the right front corner tower.

"Welcome home stud," she said. Have you come to admire your handiwork," she asked stroking her very round and very beautiful belly?

"No, I haven't," I said taking another step into the room, "But I'm pleased to see an absolutely gorgeous, naked pregnant woman who appears to want some more of the cock that knocked her up."

"Oh, believe me, I certainly do want more of your satyr meat stick," she said seductively. She then looked from me, to the others, "Sisters," she started, "don't you think that he's just a bit over dressed?"

"Yes, ma'am," they all said in unison. Then 3 pairs of hands started taking my clothes off as Celeste got up on her knees. Soon I was as naked as she was. She then beckoned me towards the bed and I happily complied. I crawled up onto the bed, closed the distance with her and kissed her lovingly. The kiss was deep and passionately slow. I didn't just want to "FUCK" her, I wanted to make love to her. Hell, I wanted to make love to all of them.

As Celeste and I kissed, I felt the bed shift, as Dawn, Lydia, and Robbie all joined us on it. Soon I was kissing all four of them in the same deep and passionate way. I noticed in my peripheral vision that when I wasn't kissing one of them, they were kissing each other, or giving me oral. Something that wasn't lost on me, was that each of them had noticeably larger breasts. I suspected that they all must have grown a full cup size or more, and as a lifelong "Breast Man," I couldn't help but play with them. I played with Celeste's first, but she quickly asked, "Please be easy with them? They're very sensitive right now."

I don't know how long the five of made out like that on the bed, but Celeste eventually asked me to fuck her. I tried missionary, but quickly found her large pregnant belly to be in the way. So I had her lay on her left side, keeping her left leg straight (which I straddled), and had her keep her right leg cocked like she was sitting and I slid my erect member into her sopping wet birth canal.

I kept up a slow steady pace stopping when I felt resistance. All four of them made out with each other and each sucked on the others breasts, although someone always had to lay on her side facing Celeste to include her.

I made love to Celeste for what was probably an hour and through more than a dozen orgasms, until Lydia begged for her turn. I pulled out of Celeste's pussy, and plunged directly into Lydia's after having her assume the same position as Celeste.

I made love to her for about an hour, until Robbie demanded her turn, and I repeated with her what I'd done with Lydia. Then after another hour, I made love with Dawn, again, pulling out of one pussy to plunge into another. Then after four hours, and each of the four of them having around a dozen orgasms each, I felt my load building. "I'm told about to cum," I told the room. "Where I should spill my seed?"

"On us," said a very tired Celeste.

"Cum on our tits, studly," echoed Lydia.

"I want to taste what we all taste like together," said Robbie.

"Okay," I said as I pulled out of Dawn and scrambled our of bed, quickly followed by all four ladies who dropped to their knees in a semi circle and opened their mouths. I pumped my glistening red cock five times, and started cumming.

Celeste was first on my left, and she got the first rope on the inside of her left breast. The second shot crossed Lydia's chest from her right to left. The third rope hit Robbie in the mouth, and dribbled on her breasts. The fourth rope hit Dawn's massive milkers, and the fifth landed in her open mouth. The sixth, seventh, and eighth ropes hit Robbie, Lydia, and Celeste in their mouths. After that they took turns sucking my cock clean.

After what was likely a five to six hour marathon group love making session, I was understandably tired, and flopped onto the bed. I imagined that the four ladies were as well when they all joined me. I then looked at my four gorgeous ladies and said, "I've missed you all so very much." I thought for a bit, started to rub their pregnant bellies, and continued, "I want you all to know that I love each and every one of you four absolutely gorgeous ladies, and can't wait to hold our children in my arms."

Dawn spoke up, "You don't think that we're fat and ugly?"

I leaned over, cupped her chin, kissed her again, and said, "I just made love to each of you in a position that didn't hurt your beautiful pregnant bellies, but allowed me to look into deeply your eyes, admire the beauty of each of you. So why would you think of yourself as 'fat and ugly'?"

"It's the hormones talking," Robbie our resident medic informed us. "The hormones raging through a pregnant woman's body make her think outrageous things," she continued. "Like her partner thinks that she's fat and ugly or that her partner is sleeping with other women."

"But OUR partner IS sleeping with other women," said Celeste chuckling and stroking my six pack abs.

"Okay," conceded Robbie, "Our partner."

After that the five of us just laid in bed, kissing, caressing and cuddling each other until we all gradually fell asleep.

I awoke the next morning to the sensation of having my cock sucked and to the smell of bacon cooking two floors down. I opened my eyes to find Celeste, eagerly sucking my cock, but none of the others were around.

"Oh, God Celeste, that feels so fucking good," I said, as she sucked my cock expertly. "You could say that you're a 'Major' cock sucker now."

She pulled off of my cock at that moment, and sat back on her haunches. "We need to talk," was all that she said.

"Can we talk as we make love," I asked? "I was about halfway there when you stopped."

"I'd like that," she said as she shifted position into the same one from the night before. As I slid I to her and started slowly and steadily pumping into and put of her, she spoke. "You know that Dawn, Lydia, Robbie, and I didn't attend jump school, but you only know half of the reason," she started.

"I thought that it was because you were all pregnant," I said.

"That was only part of it," she moaned. "On one of our medical checks during the commando course, all three of us were individually asked when we'd gotten pregnant, and who the father was. We all told the truth, and named you."

"Fuck. Me," I said, between thrusts.

"I am," she said giggling. "But seriously, we told them the truth. They then gave us three choices," she moaned. "The first choice was to stop seeing you, and we all rejected that idea," she said between moans. "The second, was to leave the service with honorable discharges, but they said with things going the way that they were, we'd not even get off base before we'd be recalled to active duty. So we all took the third choice."

"Which was," I asked?

"The third choice baby," she said stroking the side of my face, "Was to accept a transfer out of your chain of command. I'm now the squadron commander of the 327th CTS, Lydia is my acting first sergeant, and is slated to go to 1st shirt school six weeks after she gives birth, Dawn is going to be a CATM instructor, and is going to CATM school six weeks after she gives birth, and Robbie is going to be NCOIC (Non Commissioned Officer In Charge) of our medic section."

"I don't understand," I said, stopping my thrusts, with my dick buried to the hilt in her. "You all did that for me? Gave up, I'm not sure what, for me."

She looked at me, stroked my face with one hand and her belly with the other, and said, "Not entirely for you, more for them, but you were still a factor. Here in the states, we should be safer, and can raise our children as the siblings that they are," she finished.

I thought about it for a moment, couldn't see an argument against it, and slowly started pumping into her again, and simply said, "That makes sense." After that I picked up the pace and shortly I asked, "Celeste I'm getting close to cumming, where do you want it?"

She stroked my face and said "In me baby, spill your seed in me," she moaned, then continued, "Be-cause. I'm. Fuck-ing. Cum-ming. My-self."

The spasming of her vaginal muscles sent me over the edge, and I bathed her insides with my seed. I remained hovering over her in the leaning rest position foe a few moments, leaned in, and kissed her. Afterwards I whispered, "Good morning gorgeous. "

"Good morning to you too, Mr. Flatterer," she said back. After a moment she continued, "Lydia probably has breakfast ready by now, let's head down. Okay?"

As she climbed out of bed, she took me by the hand and led me out of the bedroom section over to the bathroom. After a quick shower in the absolutely massive shower, she headed towards the stairs without a stitch of clothing on.

"Ah, Celeste, aren't you forgetting something, like clothes," I asked?

She laughed, "That's right, you missed that 'House meeting.' We ladies decided that since we've ALL seen each other naked, had sexual relations with each other, and since most of us have fur covered lower bodies, that this is now a naturalist household. We also decided that it would be best if our children will be raised as naturalists, as kids love to run around naked anyway."

"Damn," I said, "You all really thought this out."

"It was Lydia's idea," she said as we descended the stairs. "She was raised by hippie naturalists in a naturalist commune somewhere out in Arizona."

"Ah, speaking of Lydia," I started changing the subject. "I know that it may be a touchy subject, but has she heard from her husband yet?"

"Yeah, it is, and yes she has," Celeste said. "Her jerk of a husband filed for divorce, and she got them served to her five weeks ago."

"Fuck," I said. "What's going on then?"

"She took the paperwork to the legal office," Celeste, said. "They looked it over and since they didn't have any kids, and all that he wanted was out of the marriage, she happily signed and sent it back to him."

"Damn, so she's now divorced," I asked?

"Free and clear," she said, "just like the rest of us."

When we got to the dinning room, Lydia was coming in through the butler's closet carrying a serving tray full of bacon, French toast, juice, milk, coffee, and syrup. We all sat on towel covered chairs, and enjoyed our breakfast.

We spent the weekend around the pool, and making love whenever the mood hit us.

Chapter 21

On Monday morning we were trucked out to one of the ranges, where discussed the LAV-300 APC and the LAV-600 Fire Support and Anti-Tank vehicle in one of the range classrooms. After a marmite can lunch, we all got to evaluate how both the vehicle drove, and we got live fire turret time in both. We spent the whole weeks doing both day and night testing of the two vehicles, and on Friday we met up with the Textron engineers back in the same range classroom that we'd met them in on Monday.

The head engineer looked at all of us and asked, "So, how do you all feel about our vehicles?"

There was a chorus of "Love its."

Then he asked, "Are there any complaints?"

I stood up and said, "The turret of the LAV-600 is too small for anyone with horns or antlers," I started. "It is very difficult to reload the 1-0-5, and would potentially be fatal in combat."

"So you don't like it," he said. "Do you have any suggestions as how to fix it?"

I looked at him smiled, and said, "Why yes, I do. "

He looked at me, and said, "Please elaborate sergeant."

"Well sir," I started, "are you familiar with the French AMX-13 light tank?"

"No, I'm not," he said.

"Well," I started, "what you need to know about the AMX-13 is that it had a two piece turret with the bottom portion capable of turning in the hull, while the upper portion pivots on the lower portion. The main gun is fixed into the upper portion, and the recoil of the gun actuates a twelve round auto loader in the turret bustle."

"One of the other engineers who had been silently writing what was said, spoke up, and said, "That would be an oscillating turret design. How do you know so much about it?"

"I was an Air Force brat, and went to high school in Germany," I started. "The base where my father was stationed had several AMX-13s to use as either decoys, ORI (Operational Readiness Inspection) decorations, or steel bunkers, I'm not sure. But my sophomore year in high school, I went on an AFJROTC field trip, and after we got back to base, while we were waiting for school to let out, we were hanging out where the things were stored. Being an average military teen, I got in one and started playing around in it. As I sat in the turret, the how of the auto loader worked just jumped out to me."

"Okay," he said. "We'll see if we can get a license to build the things from the French."

We would up discussing some other things, but we ended the day shortly afterwards.

Over the next few weeks, we trained on the new vehicles, and slowly started getting the new M-1969A1s and M-1970A1s, which was a good thing, because, before he retired, Chief Coffee informed all of us that he had covertly written off all of our original weapons as surplus and sent the serial numbers to the BATFE and had them registered as legal class III machine guns back in late 1985. Then before he left with what was on the truck (he'd written them off as surplus too), he handed each of us the paperwork on every single one of our weapons (Stoner, M-16, M-15, & M-1911A2), and told us that what we'd carried were legally our weapons, and all that we needed to do was submit the proper paperwork to the BATFE and pay a $200.00 tax for each machine gun (Stoner and M-16) that we had.

Once we had the new weapons, we noticed that the main difference between the older and the newer weapons was the inclusion of the M-1913 Picatinny rail system and Trijicon ACOG scopes, and that the M-1970A1s came with the parts to convert them to rifles.

We trained on the vehicles, for two months, we learned how to maintain them, and repair them, because the armor on the new vehicles was different than the older vehicles. We even trained on swimming them in the post lakes.

Chapter 22

Then about midday on September 25th I got a call from Celeste to head over to the post hospital, because Lydia's water had broken. I got permission to leave, and was told that I was authorized to take 30 days leave starting then. I got to the hospital, and after gowning up, was ushered into the delivery room.

I was there to watch as Lydia's and my beautiful babies were born. She delivered two fauns and a satyr, and all three were healthy, although one of the fauns was a nine pounder, while her brother and sister were both eight pounders.

After the pediatrician checked them out, he put them on her chest so that she could hold her babies. She named them April, May, and August.

Lydia was still in the hospital when Robbie gave birth to a faun and satyr, both eight pounders, herself on September 28th. Then on October 1st, Dawn's water broke, and I watched as our son and daughter born, both very healthy ten pound minotaurs. Finally Celeste gave birth on September 3rd to a healthy faun and satyr, both nine pounders.

The sight of those nine hungry little ones latched onto their mothers' nipples and nursing greedily filled my heart with joy. However, with triplets, Lydia had difficulty keeping her little ones fed, so Dawn, Celeste, and Robbie nursed Lydia's third child whenever necessary. This arrangement led to all four mothers, nursing all nine babies whenever necessary, and that sight was equally welcome to me.

After my leave when I returned to work on October 25th, I was informed that we had orders, and that our transportation to the war zone should be ready by late December.

Chapter 23

When we were told that congress had re-implemented the draft, we were also told that the law had ordered a good many closed bases to be reopened, retired aircraft at the Davis Motham AFB "Bone Yard" evaluated for reinstatement to active duty, and any decommissioned naval vessels still in existence, and of potential military value to be re-commissioned. So when December 28th (They'd given each of us seven days leave to have Christmas off with our families) rolled around, we got ready to deploy. I'd made certain to kiss each of my four lovely ladies, and nine beautiful babies good bye prior to leaving the house at 03:30 that morning. I'd had my 1992 Chevy S-10 Blazer shipped to me, so I drove to our departure area, where I met up with the rest of the unit. We drew weapons, ammunition, and other supplies, then loaded up our gear into our vehicles. At 05:30 we had a good hot breakfast, while some of the instructors watched our vehicles. We hit the road at 06:00, made the hour and a half drive to the Philadelphia Navy Yard where we were to board our ships across the Atlantic.

As we drove out, we passed my house. The home that I shared with four amazingly gorgeous ladies and our nine beautiful babies. As we drove passed, Celeste, Dawn, Lydia, and Robbie were all outside with our nine babies were in strollers, bundled up against the coldness of New Jersey in December. The four of them were obviously crying and waving as our vehicles drove passed. Being the commander of one of the LAV-600s, I was standing in the turret keeping an eye on our progress freezing my tail off, but I waved bye as we passed, thankful that no one could see the tears flowing from my eyes.

Once we got to the Navy Yard at around 07:30, we were escorted out to the docks, and assisted in getting our vehicles loaded onto one of the two waiting Dock Landing Ships. The group was split and half of each squadron boarded each of two ships. Each ship already had a pair of CH-3Es strapped onto the landing platform, and I thought that it was safe to presume that the air and ground crews were already aboard. The ship that we boarded was the USS Monticello, while the other was the USS Thomaston. We'd thought it odd that the 'Straight Leg' 39th SFS hadn't come with us, but seeing only two ships, kind of made sense to us.

After our vehicles were loaded, at around 09:00, we were shown to our quarters by a bored looking seaman. The interior of the ship smelled of fresh paint mixed with the same oily, diesel or kerosene type smell, that the USS Tarawa had smelled like. After we'd settled into our quarters, we were allowed to check out the unrestricted portions of the ship. We found the ship's mess deck, gym, library, and other amenities. We all made our way up on deck just before making way at around 11:00.

As we got under way, I looked around and noticed that we were forming up some kind of convoy, like one of those old WW-II films. It was then that I noticed the elephant in the room. Proceeding ahead of us out of the Navy Yard with grey smoke billowing out of her stack was the unmistakable silhouette of the USS New Jersey. I'd been impressed with the size of the USS North Carolina when I'd visited her years before, but the New Jersey was bigger and more impressive.

After we were under way, and had exited the Navy Yard and were on the Delaware river proper, we headed down to the mess deck for some chow. At some point during the day we did an "Abandon Ship" drill to know where to go if something went terribly wrong. It took us about five hours to get down the Delaware River and into the Delaware bay, then we they opened us up and we were well out to sea four hours later.

The next morning, most of us were seasick (myself included) and our medics and the navy medical corpsmen were handing out dramamine like candy. Thus most of us missed morning chow. I however had brought my own dramamine, and made certain that my crew had as well, and we got to eat, and keep our breakfast down. After breakfast, with my 35mm Cannon camera in hand, I went up on deck to see what the morning held, and snap a few pictures, cause you never knew what you were going to see.

The first thing that I noticed (and snapped a picture of) was that the sun was rising to out port side, meaning we were heading south. I then noticed the fleet around us, and snapped pictures of everything. I'd thought that what I saw the day before looked like a convoy from a WW-II film, but what I saw before me was certainly a convoy. As I looked around, I noticed (and photographed) four battleships, and six aircraft carriers, with a mix of smaller ships that I didn't recognize. "Damn," I said, "Now that's a fleet."

"Sure is sergeant," a female voice, said behind me.

I turned to come face to face with a Lieutenant Commander in the US Navy. I popped to attention and saluted her, saying, "Good morning, ma'am."

She returned the salute and said, "As you were sergeant." She stepped up to the railing shook her head, and said, "I'd never have thought that I'd live to see a day when so many supposedly mothballed old ships underway under their own power again."

I looked at her, and asked the question that was gnawing at me, "Ma'am, why are we heading south, I thought that we were heading to Europe?"

"Very astute, sergeant," she said. "Not to reveal too much before I'm supposed to, but the Admirals and Generals thought that a cooler but extremely important landing needed to take place first, to get you Air Force types 'Feet wet' as it were."

"That makes sense ma'am," I responded, "But if we're heading south, why did the Iowas from the Pacific Fleet already join us?"

She looked at me with a smile on her face but said nothing.

I then asked, "I see what looks like four battleships, so we must have all four Iowas?"

Chuckling she replied, "Only two of them are Iowas."

I looked at her, and said, "That means that..."

"Correct," she said interrupting me. "Over there to our starboard is BB-55 or the USS North Carolina," she said pointing it out. "Over there to our port is BB-59 or the USS Massachusetts. We should pick up the combined USS Lexington, USS Alabama group somewhere south of Cuba two or three days from now."

I turned to stare at the Lt. Commander, and whispered, "Shit, I knew that decommissioned ships were being recommissioned, but the shit must be hitting the fan to be dragging museum ships out of retirement."

"Hey sergeant," she responded chuckling, "the US Navy isn't scraping the bottom of the barrel yet, we left the USS Texas, and USS Olympia as museum ships."

"I'm sorry, ma'am," I stammered, "I didn't mean to speak ill of the US Navy."

She laughed, thought a moment, then said, "It's okay. Though I'm not so certain about the Yorktown, Intrepid, and Lexington."

"Why those ships ma'am," I asked?

"Because the Essex Class ships are too small to operate anything much bigger than an AV-8, although I've heard some scuttlebutt about re-envisioned or restored A-7 Corsairs, E-1 Tracers, S-2 Trackers, and OV-10 Broncos operating off of those old Essexs."

"Well, ma'am," I said, "I seem to remember reading something, as a young airman, about the Air National Guard looking to upgrade it's a-7 fleet to a "Strikefighter" role. What that entailed I'm unsure of, but since the A-7 was originally a Navy Carrier Aircraft, and if I was going to upgrade it, that's where I'd start looking."

She smiled at me, and said, "You're funny sergeant. I like you."

"I think that I should warn you ma'am," I started, "the last four ladies that said something like that to me, wound up in my bed, pregnant, and are now mothers to nine babies."

She laughed at me and asked, "Really, you got four women pregnant two to three times each and what, their living together or something?"

I chuckled, shook my head, and as I pulled out my wallet, I said "No, ma'am, they each got pregnant once and had either twins or triplets." I handed her the photos of Dawn, Celeste, Lydia, and Robbie, all holding their babies on the days that they were born. "And yes ma'am they are all living in the same house."

She looked at the photos, then at me, and asked "This was this year?"

"Yes ma'am," I replied "late September through early October."

She quickly handed back the photos, said,"Carry on sergeant," and hurried away.

Chapter 24

The next three days were spent working out, and getting our gear ready for God knows what kind of operation. Like the Lt. Commander said we were joined by the USS Lexington and USS Alabama group on the fourth day out, January 1st.

When they joined up, we were finally told where we were going, which was Panama. It had been decided that in order to maintain combat effectiveness we had to control the Panama Canal zone, so we were going to take it. We were told that they didn't expect much resistance, but to prepare for it nonetheless.

The plan as laid out for us was for the destroyers USS Sullivans, and USS Kidd to go through the Gatún Locks first. Followed then by the Marine carrying USS Point Defiance, the USS Spiegel Grove, the USS Guadalcanal, US Guam. Next would be destroyers USS Joseph P. Kennedy, USS Cassin Young, and USS Laffey. Then us in the USS Thomaston, & USS Monticello, and bringing up the rear, would be the USS North Carolina, and the AV-8B Harrier carrying USS Yorktown. The rest of the fleet would remain in the Atlantic, and only act if necessary.

The idea was for all of the ships to get into Gatún Lake and for the ships carrying the Marines to make for Panama City, while we were to make for Howard AFB. The destroyers, the NC, and Yorktown were there for close air support and naval bombardment if necessary. Then once we had control of the area the 24th Composite Wing would take possession of HAFB, and we'd be relieved to proceed to Europe.

The entire operation lasted 96 hours, from the time the USS Sullivans approached the first lock, with the plan going off fairly well. The biggest hitch being that the company that the government of Panama had hired to administer the canal was "owned" (read part of) by PLA (People's Liberation Army of China). The fiercest fighting during the operation was against them, and the Marines and Panamanian Defense Forces (another unplanned but welcomed hitch in the plan) handled them easily.

After the fighting was done, we pulled security at Howard AFB for 48 hours as it took time for the 24th Composite Wing to get off loaded from the ships that they were on. It brought joy to my heart to once again see USAF F-4Es flying into a base, not to mention seeing A-7s fly for the first time. What was strange though was seeing USAF marked F-18s flying in as well. I later spoke to one of the maintainers in the line of the flight line chow hall, and found out that because the F-16 couldn't handle a carrier launch, everyone of them in the DMAFB boneyard had been stripped of engines, avionics, and then scrapped to get what was now dubbed the F-4P and the A-7F both up and flying.

After we were relieved by the 24th SFS, we loaded back up on our ships and strangely headed out into the Pacific. I and everyone else thought that we were heading to Europe next, and wondered why we were heading west.

At evening chow that first night back at sea, we found out why on the news playing on the mess deck's TVs. It seemed that the CCP (Chinese Communist Party) had protested heavily at the UN against our actions in Panama. However, they were quickly shut down when our ambassador presented to the assembly plans gathered by both US and Panamanian military intelligence outlining CCP plans to take over Panama and deny its use to anyone they deemed unfit to use it (western allies). Then throwing a temper tantrum reminiscent of the late Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev the Chinese Ambassador said something to the effect of "You'll be sorry," and stormed out.

While I'm not certain about anyone else, I figured at that moment that we were heading into a war against China. Where exactly I didn't know, however, seeing their history over the last half century I had two pretty good ideas. The first was Taiwan who I figured would welcome us. The second I wasn't so sure would welcome us at all, seeing what the US had done in Vietnam during the 1960s and early 1970s.

Our convoy minus the Forrestal class aircraft carriers, Iowa class battleships and their modern destroyer escorts made our way first to Pearl Harbor Hawaii. Where we got 5 days shore leave while the higher us figured out what we were going to do next.

Chapter 25

Since the only other time I'd been in Hawaii was on my way back from Clark AB in the Philippines, and all that I'd seen then was the inside of the MAC terminal. So after a visit to the base exchange to buy a couple of obligatory "Hawaii Shirts," a couple of pairs of jeans & slacks, I went out to see the USS Arizona memorial, which is something that I'd always wanted to see.

Seeing those names on the wall, the wreckage just under the water, and the battleships North Carolina, Massachusetts, Alabama, and Missouri, at anchor near her along "battleship row" sent chills down my spine, and brought tears to my eyes. I snapped pictures of everything in order to capture the moment for all time.

On our second day in Hawaii, since I'd been a fan of the "Magnum PI" when I was a kid, I went looking for locations where it had been filmed. I was walking down Hotel Street in Honolulu's China Town taking in the sights, and just feeling apart of the show, in spite of it ending over a decade before. Hell, I even had my M-1911A2 holstered in a concealed holster at the small of my back (I'd brought it with me on the deployment and something had told me to bring it with me that day).

As I was walking down the street, a pair of white panel vans passed going the each way. One of them stopped about 10 yards away from me. The side door slid open, and a half dozen armed Asian men and women jumped out shouting "Death to America," and "Die American Scum," and started shooting people.

I reached around grabbed my.45, drew it, brought it around in front of me, punched forward while thumbing off the safety, caught my right hand with my left, sighted in on the closest shooter and squeezed the trigger. The pistol recoiled in my hand, and the target dropped. As I moved forward and shifted targets, their bullets zinged passed me, at some point, I felt a sharp stinging sensation to my left ear. I "tapped" each of them once or twice until each of them were down, reloading on the move. Just as I released the slide, the driver of the van came around the front of it with an AK-47, and I double tapped her before she could shoot me.

As it became quite around me, I could hear more AK fire up and down the street, as well as more.45s, and lighter pops that I wasn't certain what were. I moved up to my last target, holstered my.45, and picked her AK out of her dead hands. At that moment I heard shouting in an Asian language that I didn't understand about 100 meters to my front, and more bullets zinging by me. So I flipped out the under folder stock of the AK in my hand, racked the safety all the way down, cycled the action, shouldered the weapon, and started engaging the shooters, double and triple tapping each, until I was taking no more fire from there.

Figuring that I was running low on ammo, I reached down to the body of the dead woman at my feet, and pulled a fresh magazine from her chest rig. Once I swapped magazines, due to her small size, I stripped the chest rig off of one of the bodies of the nearby male terrorists and put it on.

As I flicked out the AK's spike bayonet, it occurred to me that I might need back up. "Hussar, Hussar, Hussar!" I yelled, "Sound off." I heard two responding Hussars, five responding Fusiliers as well as multiple ooh-rahs, hoo-yahs, and hoo-ahs, I then yelled, "Listen up all of you, this is TSgt. Kline of the 39th Hussars, if you can, strip any dead terrorists near you of weapons and ammo and then sound off."

I heard a chorus of "Rodger that sergeant" and "Wilco sergeant."

As I got up to move, I saw movement in a nearby stairway. I swung around to engage the target, and spotted a cute blonde woman with a page boy hair cut, who reminded me of a young Airman that I regretted not sleeping withal about a decade earlier. After assessing her hair style, I asked "Are you in the service?"

"Yes, I am," she stammered. "I'm Private First Class Elizabeth Jones. I'm a medic over at Schofield Barracks. Sergeant, Did you know that you're bleeding?"

"Where," I asked looking down at my body?

"You're ear," she replied.

Admittedly, my left ear did throb like a mother fucker, but I had other things to worry about, so I said, "I'll live." I looked at her and guesstimated thay she was about the same size as the driver, so I grabbed the dropped magazine, and shoved it back into its now empty pouch. I then grabbed another nearby AK, "Private Jones, did you happen to learn about the AK-47 during training?"

"No, Sergeant," she said. "Why do you ask?"

I smiled at her while slinging the spare AK, and grabbing the dead driver by the shoulder strap of her chest rig. "Well, then today's your lucky day," I said as I dragged the body over to where PFV Jones sat. When I got back over to her I said, "Quickly strip off her chest rig and put it on."

"But, I'm not a combat medic," she stammered, "I work in the post hospital."

"Well Private Jones, today you get promoted to combat medic," I said to her as I extended both the bayonet and stock on her AK. As we spoke more Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, and Marines moved up to where I was and started arming themselves with dead terrorists' weapons.

"How am I supposed to treat the wounded," she asked? "I don't have any medical gear."

I looked at her and at her purse, and asked, "You're a woman, don't you have either tampons or maxi-pads in your purse?"

"It's none of your fucking business if I do," she responded back in an angry tone.

"Private Jones," I started, "I don't have time to explain it any further than to say that a maxi-pad is basically a very thin pressure bandage, and you can stick a tampon in a bullet hole just like you would in your vagina."

My putting it bluntly, and in proper terms shut her up for a moment or two. When she finally spoke again she said sheepishly "Not saying that I have any, but what if I need more?"

"Ask other surviving women that you may encounter for them or dump out the purses of the dead or critically wounded for more," I said. Digging in my camera bag, I found the bundle of sharpies that I had started carrying there. I stripped off two of the thicker marker types and handed them to her after tapping them against my forehead, and simply said, "For triage. "

The color drained from her face at the implications of what I'd just told her. She swallowed once, and said, "Yes sergeant," and accepted the markers.

After a quick assessment of ranks, and career fields, we broke down into fire-teams and began our counter attack against the terrorists. Those of us in combat arms career fields took point, while Private Jones and others assessed, triaged, and treated the wounded that we passed.

As we made our way down the street trading fire from the terrorists, a bullet zinged past me, and I heard wet "THWAP," and pained grunt behind me, followed by a "Doc's hit! They shot the doc!"

I turned my head and saw PFC Jones slumped against a wall, with a bloody smear above her. An image flashed in my brain of me with one hand on Dawn's abdomen and the other on her hip a little over a year prior, watching as she ovulated, and got inseminated. Then the image shifted to me leaning over PFC Jones, one hand on her breast, and the other her back, with a faint glow emanating from my hands.

Knowing what to do, I yelled, "Shift fire left," jumped up, put triple taps into each target down range (noting that several went down in pink mists) and backed up to where PFC Jones was slumped against the wall.

Once I there, I stepped into cover, slung my weapon, and crouched beside her. I noticed that she was gasping for air, and had blood dribbling out the corner of her mouth. I immediately knew that she was in a very bad way and that I needn't waste any time. I leaned her forward, untied her chest rig, and pulled it off of her shoulders, and handed it and her weapon to an off duty female HPD officer, so she could get in the fight.

Not knowing how to explain to her what I was going to do, nor having the time to try, I just did it. As I was looking at her back, I ripped her short sleeved button up shirt, and removed it from her. I saw the exit wound from the bullet. It was leaking pink froth, so I knew that she didn't have much time. The hole was as large as my palm (4"×5"), so I quickly slid my right hand between her tank top and skin to cover it. Keeping my hand firmly on her exit wound, I leaned her back against the wall. I then slid my hand into her tank top and cupped her left breast, where the entrance wound was.

She looked up at me, and wordlessly said with her eyes, "I'm fucking dying, and you're feeling me up? What kind of fucking pervert are you?"

I leaned down, placed my forehead against the top of her head, "Shhh, I got you," then closed my eyes. As soon as my eyes were closed, I could see into her chest cavity. I could see steady black, flashing red, flashing yellow, steady yellow, and steady green organs, vessels, veins, and arteries. Based on traffic lights, and locations I surmised that black was extremely bad, red was just regular bad, green was good, and yellow between red and green.

Remembering my last self aid and buddy care class, I thought ABC. A is for AIRWAY, I must get her airway fixed first. So I focused on her left lung, and concentrated on it. I could see it in bright red, with specks of black. I focused first on expelling the black, then on closing the gaping wounds in it. As I concentrated, I could see it respond to what I could only guess was my will. As it closed, and healed the damaged air sacs and corresponding blood vessels, it shifted from flashing red, to flashing yellow to finally settle on steady yellow. Feeling air slipping by my hands, I then concentrated on the muscles of her chest and back to seal them and her chest cavity back up. I could sense air trapped in her chest cavity, and I grabbed it, and had it flow out from under my hands as the holes in her knitted closed.

With the entrance and exit wounds closed enough to no longer be life threatening, I shifted to B, for BLEEDING. I could see multiple severed arteries, veins, vessels, and capillaries, so I focused on them in that order. I could see where they were supposed to go, so I focused on each in turn, and they knitted together. I spotted very dark red blotches here and there, and as I focused on them they burst like a grape and dissolved. I'm not certain when during the procedure that I realized that they were blood clots and that my bursting them was actually dissolving them back into blood, but I eventually did.

When I got the last blood vessel closed, and before I got to C for CIRCULATION, I noticed that everything was still flashing red. As I'm looking around in her chest cavity for what's wrong, I see a darkening red space between her lungs. "Fuck," I whispered, "Her hearts stopped." I concentrate on her heart, and start counting as I will it to pump. I count to 30 as I will it to pump, then will her diaphragm to squeeze and relax twice, and do it again.

After the second round of willed CPR, she coughed, and in a hoarse whisper asked, "Did I just die?"

"No," I whispered finishing what I'd started and concentrating on healing her damaged breast tissue. When I was done, I quickly removing my hands from her tank top, and said "you were just sleeping."

She looked at me with an almost accusatory fashion, and whispered, "I saw what you did, I was in your head as you," she paused, looked down at the cigarette burn sized sore on her chest. Then looking back up at me and finished her sentence, "healed me. How the fuck did you do that," she asked?

"I honestly have no idea," I told her, "I just felt that I could do it. Now rest here, and let me get back into the fight."

"Okay," she said with fatigue in her voice, "You do that, but when this is over we need to talk," and she passed out.

I got up, unbalanced and dizzy myself. I had to steady myself for a moment because I was honestly exhausted from what I'd done, but as an Air Commando, I still had to get back into the fight.

The Battle of Hotel Street lasted a total of 32 minutes from beginning to end. After the battle we policed up the terrorist's weapons and secured the scene, using said weapons to arm our brother and sister Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, and Marines. The combat arms trained amongst us were posted around the perimeter of the battle zone in pairs, with instructions to surrender and identify themselves to local authorities when they arrived. While the rest of us either photographed the scene, or triaged and treated the wounded.

Since it took another 58 minutes for Honolulu PD to arrive, we assessed and commandeered the remaining terrorists vans, and used them to rush the most critically wounded to the nearest hospital, PFC Jones amongst them.

When the authorities did finally arrive there was a brief standoff that was quickly deescalated by the a fore mentioned off duty female cop. After the HPD declared the scene safe, the ambulances came in to pick up the remaining casualties that we hadn't evacuated yet. The end result of the attack was 50 dead terrorists, and 4 seriously wounded, and 2 captured, relatively unharmed. However there were also 129 dead, and 73 wounded fellow American men, women, and children.

As the police debriefed us, the local para-medics treated the minor injuries that we'd received during the fire-fight (they cleaned and dresses my ear too). Several of us had to reluctantly admit to the HPD officers that we were talking to, that we were illegally carrying concealed weapons. Before the police could make us surrender them, a call came in over the radio, stating that President Bush had declared martial law nation wide. The officer that I was talking to, then looked at me then told me to keep my weapons, and write a statement of what had gone down.

While we were writing our statements and waiting for the police to release us, several duce and a halves, and SF Humvees from the base arrived. We were then ushered onto the duces and transported back to base. We went back to the base joint AFOSI, ACID, and NCIS office. We cleared and turned in both our captured and our personal weapons to the evidence lock up. We then underwent further interrogation by pairs of agents from the three agencies.

I was questioned by AFOSI agent Sampson and CID agent Boxerman. Sampson was an older human male in his forties. While Boxerman was a female orc of about my age. They first read me my UCMJ rights, and I told them that I was willing to talk. They asked me about the attack from my point of view, and I told them the truth as I knew it (if I fucked myself, so be it). When Agent Boxerman produced my.45 in a cardboard evidence box, and asked where I'd gotten it, I told her the truth. When they were done asking questions, they slid an after action report form and asked me to fill it out.

When I finished the report Agent Sampson came back into the room carrying the box with my.45 in it. He put it on the table and said, "Normally we'd admonish you for having this, but seeing what happened here and elsewhere," he paused, a shiver visibly going over him before he continued. "The casualties here were high, but they weren't nearly as high as places where there weren't armed personnel present. Then there's the prisoners. Your group captured the only prisoners. So, per the president's emergency orders, you can have it back. Just carry it openly, and unloaded unless you're in uniform."

"I can do that," I said standing up, undoing my belt and pants. I was tucking my shirt, although still covered in PFC Jones's blood, when Agent Boxerman walked in carrying a long box. I looked at her and winked, which set Agent Sampson to laughing and sent her scurrying out of the room. I refastened my pants, and repositioned my holster from a near horizontal carry at the small of my back to just behind my right hip canted forward. After I had my belt redone I took my weapon pointed it at the ceiling, checked for clear, and holstered it empty.

I then looked at Agent Sampson and asked, "You mentioned other attacks without armed personnel. What did happen to get President Bush to implement martial law?"

He looked at me and sincerely asked, "You really don't know, do you?"

"Know what," I asked?

"Come with me," he said, as he left the interrogation room, and I followed. The led me to the big office room where they had their desks in cubicles, and pointed me to a big TV on the wall showing a constant news feed.

The anchor was talking about coordinated terrorist attacks nation wide in both large Metropolitan cities, and large military bases. Joint bade McGuire-Dix was on the list. I looked at him and asked, "Agent Sampson, I have family at Dix, may I call them?"

"I didn't know that you were married TSgt Kline," he said.

"I'm not married," I said, "because polygamy is illegal."

He looked at me odd, so I told him the year old tail of how I impregnated four women within the month of January. Afterwards, he picked up the phone and asked, "What's the number?"

I gave it to him and he dialed it. On the first ring he handed me the receiver. Soon Celeste answered, "Hello,"

in a panic, I asked, "How is everyone?"

"Oh my God Josh, where are you? Are you okay?

"I'm fine Celeste," I said. "I'm in Honolulu, but I'm fine. How about you, the others, and the kids?"

I heard a relieved breath before she said, "Everyone here is fine. We had a bit of excitement here today but we're good other wise."

Over the phone I heard Dawn ask, "Who's on the phone?"

"Josh," said Celeste, "He's calling from Honolulu."

"He's in fucking Honolulu," I heard Dawn ask louder than usual?"

"Yeah," Celeste said. "Is there a problem with that?"

"There was an attack there today," Dawn said. "May I please have the phone Celeste?"

"Sure," Celeste said before I heard the movement of the phone.

In a commanding motherly voice Dawn asked, "Josh were you involved in the attack in Honolulu today?"

"Yes, I was," I said honestly because the voice that she'd used wasn't one that you lied to and expected to live afterwards.

"What the fuck happened there Joshua?"

Including the healing of PFC Jones, I told her everything that had happened to me that day in Honolulu.

She listened and didn't interrupt. When I was done she sighed and said, "Okay. I guess that it couldn't be avoided, and you did everything that you could to be safe and protect others. However Josh I do need for you to remember that you're a family man now and to not go around trying to be a hero, because dead heroes don't get to play with your kids or fuck their mothers."

Admonished, I chuckled and said, "You're absolutely correct Dawn. I'll refrain from trying to be a dead hero because between you, the others, and the kids, I have so much to live for. I looked over at agent Sampson and he was tapping his watch, so I said, "I've got to go now Dawn, I love you, and please give my love to the others and the babies?"

"We all love you too Josh," she said. "Come home safe and soon."

"I don't have any control over any of that but I'll do what I can," I said.

She said, "I love you," one more time and ended the call. I then handed the receiver back to him, and he hung it up.

He looked at me and said, "I'm glad that your family is safe. I don't know how I'd take it if the situation was reversed."

"Thank you, Agent Sampson," I said. "That's a huge weight off of my chest."

"You're very welcome," he responded. "We're done with you now, and you probably want to get back to your ship and get cleaned up."

"Yes sir I would," I said.

"Then follow me, and I'll escort you out of the building," he said, standing.

As I stood up, Agent Boxerman walked back into the room carrying a long evidence box, "I don't think that they want you to take this back onto the ship, so where do you want it shipped?"

"What are you talking about," I asked, confused?

"This," she said setting the box on Agent Sampson's desk, and opening it to reveal the Chinese type 56 that I'd carried earlier in the day, as well as the blood soaked chest rig that I'd been wearing and all five magazines, empty of course.

I looked at her and asked, "Aren't there laws against me keeping that?"

She looked at me and said, "Normally there are, but President Bush's state of emergency martial law declaration, includes a suspension of the NFA, GCA, and Hughes Amendment for current honorably serving members of the four services of the DoD, their respective reserve components, and honorably discharged veterans. This means that rifle is yours to do with as you like, providing that it's in the possession of a member of the previous groups."

I looked at her, smiled, and said, "My father's retired USAF, so I'm going to send it to him." I then gave her his name, rank, and address.

She wrote it down and asked, "Is there anything you'd want to include in the package?"

"Yes I would," I answered, "Dad, please wash the blood (not mine) out of the chest rig, and clean the weapon, as I didn't get a chance to. Love Joshua."

She chuckled, and as she turned to leave, I heard her whisper under her breath, "No wonder he has four women sleeping with him."

I couldn't help myself, but when she was almost out of earshot, I said at a normal tone, "Twelve inches of prime 'goat sausage' doesn't hurt either."

She stopped, slowly turned to face me, completely red in the face and mouthed "Really?"

I smiled and nodded my head. She then spun around and quickly walked away.

As Agent Sampson led me out of the room, he looked at me and asked, "Why would you want to do that to my partner?"

I looked at him and said, "She just seemed a little uptight, and I honestly couldn't help myself."

"She hadn't had a date in a year," he confided to me. "No one wants to date an 'ugly'."

I looked at him and said, "Tell her to look for a satyr, like myself. I don't find her unattractive at all, and other satyrs might not either. Honestly, if I didn't have a minotaur, two fauns, an elf, and 9 babies back home, I'd make a serious pass at her. But I don't really think that I need anymore of either."

He looked past me, and I turned to look where he was, and saw Agent Boxerman with a huge smile on her face. She mouthed, "Thank you," and went on her way.

Agent Sampson escorted me out of the building and pointed me in the direction of where my ship was berthed. I made a good time getting there, went aboard, did the saluting thing, and then went to my quarters. I got my.45 cleaning kit, and spare ammunition, and reported back to the armory, where I reloaded my magazines, and cleaned my weapon before turning it and the ammunition in as I'd been instructed to do.

Chapter 26

Afterwards, I went back to my quarters, got a change of clothes, and shower stuff, and hit the showers. As I passed the mirror over the sinks in the latrine, I couldn't believe how bad I looked. I was covered in blood, and my eyes looked sunken. I looked like I had the weight of the world on my shoulders. I stripped, stepped into the shower, and just let it run. The water coming off of me was red, blood red. I turned off the water, pulled out my shampoo, and washed my hair and legs, then I used soap to wash my face, upper body, and arms. I then rinsed until the water was no longer red. I then dried, dressed, and headed to chow after dropping my dirty clothes off at the ship's laundry.

I barely made it to evening chow. When the cooks got a look at me and my bandaged ear, they knew where I'd been and knew enough to not ask questions. They piled my tray full of food (the Chief of the Mess) was a motherly woman of 35 years of age. She was also of mixed Jewish and Italian heritage. She apparently exuded the stereotypes of both Jewish and Italian mothers with "You don't look healthy, eat some more"). The way I felt at that moment, I happily accepted what was on my tray.

As I sat down, I looked around the table and realized that I was staring into freshly cleaned faces with the same tired expression I'd had on my face in the shower. No one wanted to talk, so we all ate in silence and then went to our various quarters. I didn't know about any of them, but I hit the bed and went to sleep.

The next morning, I awoke at 05:30 and made my way to the latrine to "shit, shower, and shave." On the latrine door, I found a notice that stated that all personnel, unless they were going to or from the gym they were to be in either BDUs or USN utilities. The note also stated that for all USAF personnel aboard, there would be a commanders call on the mess deck at 09:00. "Probably about yesterday," I thought to myself as I entered.

Once I was done in the latrine (yes I realize that the DoN calls it a "Head" but the USAF also calls the chow hall an "Areospace Dining Facility" and it's my very special way to fuck with people and get away with it), I headed back to my quarters, to get dressed, then to the mess deck for morning chow. After breakfast, I went to sick call to get my ear looked at.

There was a line at sick call, and while the normal day to day medical maladies were present, there were more than a few wounds from the day before. So after I checked in, I stood in the hallway and waited my turn.

"TSgt Kline," came the voice of a bored sounding human female Medical Corpsman, "TSgt Kline you are next."

"That's me," I said.

"Follow me," she said, as she led me into the medical area and into an exam room. "So what brings you in today, TSgt Kline," she asked as she closed the door.

"My left ear took a bullet yesterday," I tell her, pointing to the bandage on my ear. "The civilian EMTs patched me up on scene, but I thought that I'd get it looked at today," I told her.

She said, "Hop up on the table, and lay back so I can see what it looks like."

I do as she asked, and as I'm laying there, she removes the bandages, then looks at me and, while manipulating my ear, asks, "You say that you were shot yesterday?'

"Yes," I replied, "I took a bullet to the ear sometime during the battle yesterday."

She said, "Well, if that's the case, you must heal very quickly, because save for a hole about the size of a number 2 pencil your ear looks fine."

I looked at her and said, "Really?"

She pointed to the mirror over the sink, "Look for yourself."

I got up, went over to the sink, and looked at my ear in the mirror. I flexed it and twisted it, and I could certainly see the hole. However, it appeared to be fully healed and almost like a piercing. "Well damn," I said, looking at it. "I guess that it's a good thing that I got a picture of it before the civilian medics patched me up."

"Why," she asked?

"So I have evidence enough to receive a Purple Heart," I told her.

"A Purple Heart," she said, "Is that all you want?"

A flirty feeling came over me. I looked at her, and I winked, "You're a lady, so you know how all the ladies just cream themselves over War Heroes with plenty of medals."

She looked at me, rolled her eyes, and said, "Get out of here, you horn dog, before I report you."

As I walked out the door past her, I noticed some rosy color in her cheeks, moisture on her brow, a hint of female arousal pheromones in the air (I knew what they were, and how they smelled, because of living with four very horny ladies back home), and I could hear her increased breathing. I then smiled at her and whispered, "See, what I mean."

She took a step back like I'd hit her, "How," she stammered?

I turned in the hallway, tapped my nose, and said, "Since the change, the nose knows."

She fully blushed and went back into the room to clean up for the next patient.

Chapter 27

As 09:00 rolled around, I headed back to the mess deck for the commanders call. At 09:00 sharp, we were called to attention by MSgt Dole, the first sergeant aboard for Major Peters, the squadron commander on board to enter the room.

He quickly told us to be seated and began. "As many of you know, several terrorist attacks occurred around the island yesterday," he began. "Several of you were involved in stopping said attacks because you were carrying illegal personal weapons in an equally illegal concealed manner. While both actions would normally be grounds for disciplinary actions, that will not be the case here. It seems that terrorist attacks occurred nation wide, at roughly the same time.

He paused to take a breath break and then continued, "Thanks to the live capture of six of the terrorists, we now know their country of origin. It seems that they were members of the Chinese People's Liberation Army. And while I can't tell you when or where we will hit them, rest assured that plans are being made to attack China. So, in the meantime, as soon as the barracks at Barbers Point are ready for us, we'll be leaving this ship and be residing ashore, training for a future invasion of China."

"Now regarding President Bush's emergency martial law declaration, the following is now in effect. All Commissioned Officers, Non-Commissioned Officers, Warrant Officers, and military police personnel shall be armed at all times. If you have personal weapons of duty size manufactured by a reputable company and in a reasonable duty caliber, you may carry your personal weapons in professional looking holsters."

He paused again, "The order lists several approved calibers, they are.38 Special,.357 Magnum,.357 Sig, 9×19mm Luger, 10mm Auto,.40 S&W,.41 Magnum, and.45ACP. It also lists manufacturers Beretta, Browning, Colt, CZ, Glock, Heckler & Koch, Remington, Ruger, Sig-Sauer, Smith & Wesson, and Taurus. While 'professional looking' is subjective, using a military style holster in either black or brown leather or something in black or OD webbing should work. Hell, folks, you can't go wrong using something that the US Military is currently using or has previously used."

"Finally," he said, "there have been questions regarding medals. Rest assured that if any are warranted, your after action reports should reflect that fact. Now Atten-Hut," he said, and as we all started to stand, "Dismissed."

As everyone started filling out, he stopped me, "TSgt Kline, a word?"

"Fuck," I thought, "that Navy medical reported me." Then I said, "Yes sir. What can I do for you sir?"

"Have a seat sergeant," he said in a casual tone as he himself sat down. So I had a seat at the same table and waited for everyone else to leave. Once we were alone, a pair of USAF medical officers (a female 1st lieutenant, and a male major) entered the room. While I'd never seen the major, I knew the lieutenant. While I hadn't seen her in a decade, I recognized Harriet Abigail Moore, the woman that PFC Jones reminded me of.

When they got to the table, I rose and Major Peters introduced them to me as Major Reese, and 1st Lt Wilson.

"Odd," I thought to myself, looking at the ring finger of her left hand, but I didn't see a wedding or engagement ring present. "Is she married now," I asked myself?

After the introductions, Major Reese spoke, "What happened yesterday?"

This wasn't the question that I was expecting, "Sir, I'm not certain which event of yesterday that you are asking about, sir?"

"Does PFC Jones, ring a bell," asked Lt Wilson?

"Yes, ma'am, she does ma'am," I said.

"She's reported a rather astonishing course of events from yesterday," said Major Reese. "Would you care to elaborate?"

"Yes, sir," I said before explaining everything about healing her.

They let me talk, and only asked questions when I was done. One they asked, was how I'd come to realize that I had this ability, and I told them about Celeste, Dawn, Lydia, Robbie and their pregnancies. Lt Wilson looked at me and said, "Quite the harem you have there TSgt."

"Yes, ma'am," I said matter of factly, knowing that how I answered the question may get me into trouble with her, and while I hadn't seen her in a long time, I knew that I still didn't want to disappoint her.

Major Reese asked, "Why did you have to put your hands on her the way that you did?"

"Sir, I don't know exactly why, but skin to skin contact just 'felt' right," I started to explain. "I didn't feel that I'd get the same results that I got if I tried to do it through her clothes. As I was healing her, sir, I saw black spots inside her that I expelled from the wound. I assumed that it was dead portions of her, but it could've been anything.

"Like part of the bullet," he asked?

"No, sir," I said, "I didn't feel anything metal hit my hands as I worked on her. Though, sir, in hind sight, it could've been bits of her shirts, pushed into the wound, I never thought to look at my hands."

"How did you feel afterwards," he asked?

"I was exhausted, sir," I said.

"Did you rest," he asked?

"Momentarily, sir," I said, "Only long enough to regain my balance before heading back into the fight."

"Before heading back into the fight," he asked confused that I'd done so. "Sounds like you were more than exhausted TSgt," he said.

"Major, what do you know of the Air Commandos," asked Major Peter's?

"Not much," he said.

"These men and women are trained to keep fighting until they either die or complete the mission," said Major Peters, "and it sounds like TSgt Kline kept up the fight."

Major Reese said, "Okay." He asked a few more questions and said that he was done.

Major Peters then told me that I was done, and I was dismissed.

Before I left, Lt Wilson came up to me and said, "PFC Jones would very much like to see you." She then handed me a note with PFC Jones's room number in the base hospital on it. As she did, she made eye contact with me, and I could see recognition in her eyes. I could also detect a subtle hint of her arousal in the air around her.

I said, "Thank you, ma'am.

Chapter 28

I went straight to my quarters, and grabbed my M-1912 rig for my M-1911A2. It consisted of a reproduction brown leather M-1912 cavalry leg drop holster for the M-1911A2 pistol, 3 M-1956 double magazine mag pouches for 7-round.45 magazines, an M-1961 Davis Belt webbed belt, 2 black nylon handcuff cases with handcuffs, and an M-7 bayonet and scabbard.

I put it on, and fixed the holster's leg strap around my right thigh, and made my way to the armory. I drew my.45, a seven magazines, and one spare round. When I got to the clearing barrel, I loaded a magazine, released the slide chambering a round, put the weapon on safe, removed the magazine, and holstered the weapon. Then as I walked away from the clearing barrel I loaded the spare round into the magazine, and then put the magazine back in the weapon.

After I was armed, I made my way to the base hospital, and up to PFC Jones's room. I knocked on the door, and asked, "May I come in?"

A weak, "Hello, who's there," came from within the room.

"TSgt Joshua Kline," I said stepping into the room. "How are you today Private Jones?"

"I'm sore sergeant," she said weakly. "My chest hurts, my back hurts, my boob hurts, and it hurts to breath."

"You gotta be alive to feel all of those things," I said walking up to the bed.

She smiled, managed a single chuckle, and winced, "Please don't do that," she asked? "It hurts to laugh too, but you're right, about being alive thank you for that."

"You're quite welcome, private," I responded.

"Why did you do it though," she asked?

I looked at her and decided to tell her why. "I've been in the USAF for fourteen years," I started, "and I've served with a lot of folks. Every now and again I met a female someone who I really liked, that I could've seen myself making a life with. The problem was that before the change, I didn't really have the confidence to ask many of them out. You have a strong resemblance to one of those women who I've regretted not asking out. Her name was Harriet Abigail Moore, and I called her..."

"Hambo," came a voice from the door.

I turned to see Lt Wilson standing in the doorway. As I looked at her, I heard a voice behind me weakly say, "The reason that we favor each other is because we're half-sisters,"

I turned and saw PFC Jones smiling.

Lt Wilson walked past me and hugged her sister. She then turned to me and said "Josh," she said, "I can't express how thankful that I am that you saved my baby sister. She's the only family that I have left."

"As I told her, you're quite welcome," I said. I thought for a moment and said, "Given how you once referred to your father as your 'sperm donor,' and the fact that you just said that you two are half sisters, presumably sharing the same mother, would explain the different last names of Moore and Jones, but please explain Wilson?"

She looked at me, and I could see pain in her eyes, "Please don't ask me about that," she said, "I may tell you, if you stay around long enough, but I have to do it on my time."

"Okay, then," I said dropping the subject, and turned back to PFC Jones and I explained to what exactly I'd done, to her to heal her.

When I finished she looked to Lt Wilson, and said, "Abby, he might be able..."

"Shush, Lizzy," scolded Lt Wilson.

"But, Abby..."

"Not now, we'll talk later."

Something was up between the two but, I wasn't going to find out by prying. They dropped the subject and when it was lunch time, the hospital staff brought PFC Jones her lunch. I invited Lt Wilson to lunch and she accepted.

We left the hospital, and went to the base AAFES food court, and had some Anthony's Pizza. We discussed our respective USAF careers. I told her about all of the bases that I'd been assigned to, and things that I'd done at each of them, leaving out the last week at Incirlik.

She talked about how she, after Balikesir AB, Turkey she'd taken a consecutive overseas tour to Aviano AB Italy, and while there she'd heard of the nurse program back in 94 applied for it, was accepted, and after a few years of college got commissioned as a 2nd lieutenant.

I could tell that she was leaving things out, but I didn't press her. As I walked her to her vehicle outside, she asked, me, "Why didn't you ever ask me out back then?"

I looked at her and said, "You once told me that I wasn't your type, so I decided that if I couldn't be your boyfriend, I'd just be your friend."

"No, I didn't," she said.

"You once told me that you go out with black guys because they treat you better, so as a white guy that meant I wasn't your type," I explained.

"Did I say that," she asked?

"You certainly did," I said.

"Do you remember all of our conversations," she asked?

"Not hardly," I responded, "but I remember some of them."

"Do you remember one where I asked you why you went to the kerhane?"

"I remember it," I said, stopping and turning to look her in the eye, as I spoke, "While I don't remember what I actually said in response, I've lost count how many times that I've replayed it in my head changing my response to 'I go to the kerhane because the only American woman here that I'm interested in told me that I wasn't her type'."

I'd wanted to judge her reaction, and her reaction was quite telling. I saw her eyes redden, and saw a tear roll down her face. As quickly as she'd teared up, her expression changed to one of anger and hurt.

I looked at her, and asked, "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, you didn't say anything wrong," she said, with what sounded like years of pain in her voice. "I'm not ready to tell you why that hurts me so much, but I promise that if you stay around here long enough, I'll tell you."

"I guess I can't ask for better than that," I said.

We then said our goodbyes, and went our separate ways.

After saying goodbye to Lt. Wilson, I walked back to the ship. While walking, I thought about whether I wanted to pursue her, her sister (PFC Jones), or both. I finally decided that whatever I wanted to do, I still needed to first get the permission of my four lovely ladies before continuing on any course of action.

I quickly found a vacant smoking area and called the house on my cell phone. It rang 3 times and Lydia picked up, "Hey Josh, what's up baby?"

"I'm fine, honey," I said. "Are the others nearby? I need everyone in on this call."

There was a muffled sound on the phone as Lydia yelled for everyone to pick up the nearest phone. Then one by one they all picked up. After exchanging pleasantries with everyone I got down to business. "You're all aware of what went down here yesterday," I asked?

I got a chorus of yeses in return.

"Well, ladies," I began, "I left out the part where the female soldier that I magically healed looked like a female airman that I used to know."

I received a "You what," from Dawn?

A, "No fucking way," from Robbie.

A "Damn, dude," from Lydia!

And a knowing, "Go on," from Celeste.

So I told them everything from how she looked like Hambo, to who Hambo was, and through the details of the healing process.

When I finished that bit Robbie said, "Damn, dude, I wish that I'd known you could do that back after that first battle."

"Robbie, baby," I said earnestly. "If I had any idea I could heal people like that, I'd have unassed that vehicle and come to help you put those folks back together."

"I know you would've helped me baby," she said with a hint of sadness in her voice. We all suffered a bit of PTSD from the evaluation of Incirlik. I think that it made us a stronger family unit because we all understood each other's trauma.

"Well," I continued, "This morning after a briefing regarding who hit us, and some other things, I got a visit from a doctor, and a nurse who happens to be both Hambo and the female soldier's half sister."

"And you're telling us this why," asked a s skeptical Celeste?

"The reason that I'm telling you this is because I would like to receive permission from all of you, before I decide to pursue either or both of them," I said.

"So you haven't done anything to bed either of them," asked Celeste taking over the conversation a bit.

"Save for placing my hand on PFC Jones's breast during the healing," I said ", and having a very public and platonic lunch earlier with Lt, Wilson nothing."

"We'll discuss this and call you back husband," said Celeste.

Then after a chorus of "I love yous" they all hung up.

I then finished my walk back to the ship.

Chapter 29

We had quarters over at the old Barber's Point Naval Air Station the next morning, and were fully moved in 24 hours later. Once we were ashore with all of our gear, we immediately started training with the Army from Schofield Barracks and the Marines that we'd arrived with plus those from over at MCB Hawaii, over at the closed base of Morse Field on the big island of Hawaii.

Once Red Horse had built an AM-2 runway, taxi ways, and ramps on the old WW-II air field, we practiced day and night air drops and air assaults on it. When we weren't training, I was taking Abby (as I now called Lt Wilson) and Liz (as I now called PFC Jones) out on non-date dates both individually and together. I was taking it slow with them, and was allowing them to set the pace of the pursuit on Celeste's orders. She and the others had agreed to let me pursue the sisters, but subtly. I was to go about it in a way that Abby and Liz would think that when we did anything sexual it was their idea to do so.

So we took in more of the sights of Hawaii, had dinners out, went to USO shows and the beach together. Then after several months of training, command gave us Easter Weekend (Friday March 29th through Sunday March 31st) off. So Abby, Liz, and I hit the beach to work on our tans.

We were laying out on a couple of beach blankets catching the rays when Abby got up and told us that she was going to the nearby latrine. After Abby was out of earshot Liz asked, "So Josh, I've been wondering, I can see that you have fur covered legs. So how far up does the fur go?"

"All the way up to my hips," I replied turning to face her like the question wasn't even personal.

"Does it go all the way across from hip to hip," she asked continuing the line of questioning.

I got up on my knees and said, "It sort of does so in the back, but in front, I have a 'V' shape, running up from my groin," I continued drawing with my hands on the front of my board shorts, "with mostly normal looking male stuff and pubic hair running in a line all the way up to my chest hair," I finished by running my index finger from my waist band to chest.

She was silent for a moment or two and said, "I think that I'd like to see it," she answered as Abby walked up.

"Like to see what," asked Abby as she walked back to where our beach blanket.

Before I could even debate with myself the issue of whether telling Abby what Liz and I had been discussing violated Celeste's orders, Liz ended the issue for me by saying, "We were discussing where the fur on his legs stopped. He told me, and I said that I'd like to see that."

Abby blushed and said, "I think that I would as well."

I, looked around, dropped a the top of my board shorts, and showed them both about 4" of my left hip, so they could get an idea of how my fur was on my body. As I pulled my shorts back up I asked, "Was that a good enough look?"

They looked at each other, Abby said, "No, that wasn't enough."

Then Liz said, "We want to see everything."

I looked at them, smiled inwardly, and said, "I can't just show you the whole thing out here, there are families around. Plus if I show you mine I'll want to see yours, and once that happens we're very likely slide straight into bed."

The sisters looked at each other briefly, smiled at each other, then Abby volunteered, "That's fine with us. We can go to my place, see where this goes, in private."

"Sounds good to me," said Liz as she got up off of the blanket grabbing her and Liz's macramé cover-ups, and tossing Liz hers.

I got the job of packing up as they slipped their covet-ups over their heads. I put my button up Hawaiian shirt (horns prevent wearing pull overs), grabbed the cooler, and my bag while they grabbed their bags, and we headed to Abby's 1971 Pontiac Le Mans GTO convertible.

Abby drove while I sat in the front passenger seat and Liz sat in back seat of the car. It wasn't a quick trip, but it was a quiet one. I think that both women were playing over on their heads about how what was going to happen would happen. I knew that both of them were sexually aroused, as I could smell it on them in spite of the top being down, and the wind blowing through our hair.

When we got there, Abby and Liz got out, grabbed their bags and went to the apartment. Abby waited for me to bring up the cooler before she unlocked the door, so that we all three could go inside together.

The building Itself was part of a multiple building complex built on the side of a hill. I could see that there was a swimming pool just up the street, as well as what looked like a club house. The building was built so that you approached your front door from a middle level walkway, then had to go up or down half a flight of stairs to either a left or right side unit (hers was a down to the right unit). I admired the engineers and builders who'd designed it, as it fit the terrain perfectly.

As I entered the apartment I noted how well lit it was with natural light. It was an efficiently apartment with an open airy floor plan and what I'd soon learn was a nice view of the Honolulu skyline. I asked, "Where should I set the cooler?"

"In the kitchen area," Abby said.

As I carried the cooler to the kitchen area, I took in the apartment. After you entered the front door, you found yourself in a short wide (roughly 7'×8') hallway. The bathroom (roughly 8'×8') was to the left, and straight ahead was the majority of the apartment.

The main room was quite large (15'×27') with half walls separating the sleeping area (where she had a large, maybe king-size, bed) from the living room area (where she had a sectional sofa that filled the entire wall space of the half wall area) from the kitchen & dining area (where she had small kitchen set up with cabinets, sink, and stove, on one wall, with a refrigerator and a small table with chairs on the other).

I set the cooler on the floor, and briefly admired the view of Honolulu, and the thick musky smell of their combined sexual arousal. Before I turned back to face the gorgeous sisters, I savored their combined scent of arousal, thankful of my now nearly 16 month old satyr physiology that allowed me to detect the intoxicating smells emanating from them.

I then turned to find that they were both still standing in the sleeping area. I smiled at them, then while switching between them looked each of them in the eyes, as I took my bag off of my shoulder and dropped it to my right in the living room area. I then removed my shirt, dropping it behind me, and asked, "Would you like to see me naked now?" When they didn't answer right away, I pulled the tie strings of my shorts, and allowed them to drop free to the floor. Then nude, I did a slow twirl so that the sisters could get a good look at my nude form. When my back was to them, I wagged my tail at them, and once I was facing them again, I closed the distance between us. I stepped into Abby's space and did something that I'd been longing to do for over a decade. I took her by the chin, lifted her face to me and kissed her, deeply, and lovingly for several minutes.

As we kissed my hands roamed her back, untying her string bikini top at the back of her neck, and the middle of her back. My hands then roamed down to her hips where I untied her bikini bottoms. I then stepped back pulling her bikini bottom and top free from under her cover-up, leaving her standing there, nude save for the macramé garment.

I stepped back to admire her beauty. She was on the taller side, of the average American woman at around 5'9". She still looked about the same since I'd last seen her, thin, fit, and with what would be best described as either a dancer's or gymnast's body. Ironically, in spite of her small "A" or "B" cup breasts, she had wide "birthing hips". However (in spite of me being a breast man since puberty) her cup size didn't matter to me, because that had never been why I was attracted to her. It had always been about her personality. As I stood there, I noticed her small dark tan areolas and small, yet erect nipples, poking through the macramé of her cover-up. I looked her in the eyes, and asked, "Abby, has anyone told you how absolutely gorgeous you are lately?"

"No, they haven't," she said.

"Then let me be the one to tell you that then," I said. "I've always thought that you were an incredibly gorgeous woman inside and out."

She blushed and I turned my attention to Liz, and stepped into her space kissing her just as deeply and lovingly. And again as we kissed, I untied her string bikini, and as I stepped back pulled it out from under her cover-up.

I again stood back, but to admire her beauty this time. Liz was a few inches shorter than her sister, and a bit heavier. Her breasts, areolas, and nipples were a size larger than her sister's. "Liz," I said, "I think that you're a beautiful woman too."

I then looked at the both of them and said, "Before we go any further, I want you to never ask me who I love more, or who I think is more attractive between either of you or Celeste, Dawn, Lydia, and Robbie back home. I never want to lie to any of you, nor do I want animosity amongst you. I love each of you equally, and think that all six of you are the most gorgeous women ever."

Abby then asked, "When did you tell, them about us?"

"After lunch on my way back to the ship that first day we reconnected," I replied. "I needed their permission before I went any further than the occasional meal, and I got it on condition that you two initiated anything sexual."

"Which I apparently did," volunteered Liz as she shed her cover-up to stand completely nude in front of me. I took in her natural nude beauty. Her moderately sized dark rose colored areolas, with decently sized nipples. Hell, I even thought that the bullet wound scar on her left breast was sexy for some reason. She had a very curvy figure with a hint of six pack abs. She was apparently one of those younger women who kept their pussies bald. While I can live with it (it's her body after all), I'm not a huge fan of shaved pussies (If I'm being completely honest, I prefer them wild and wooly). So, I made a mental note to ask her later to let it grow out.

"I think that we both did," admitted Abby as she too removed her cover-up. So that she too was standing before me nude. As I took in her natural beauty, my breath was taken away. Like I'd said, she had small breasts, wide birthing hips, and either a dancer's or gymnast's body with defined six pack abs. She apparently kept her Bush neatly trimmed, but it was there

I then stepped between the two of them, and took them both by a different hand, and led them to Abby's bed. I pulled down the covers of the bed, and said, "Please have a seat ladies." I then leaned in passionately kissed both of them, and dropped to my knees on the floor. Once on the floor I looked up at both of them and said, "Feel free to pull on my horns when you need to. I won't be offended, and pressure on them and on my tail are erogenous zones for me."

Abby started to ask, "Why did you..." before her question caught in her throat, as I lifted and spread her legs apart and ran my tongue along the crease on the backs of her knees. My actions elicited a moan of pleasure from her.

I then put both of her thighs on my shoulders, and ran my tongue along her inner thigh from her knee to a few inches from her beautifully aromatic, pussy. I then repeated the same procedure to the other thigh eliciting more melodious moans from her. The top 3" to 4" of each inner thigh had been slick with her excitement, I looked up at her and said, "Abby, baby, you pussy juice is all over your thighs down here, and it tastes heavenly."

She blushed a bit, and said, "I'm glad that you like it." Then after a moments pause said, "I made it just for you."

I said, "Thank you," then leaned in and licked clean, her incredibly moist and completely shaved outer lips from bottom to top, savoring more of her deliciously tangy natural lubricant in the process. I then reached around her left thigh with my right hand, and spread open her pussy lips and licked her from asshole to clit, before devouring her pussy in earnest. I meticulously kissed, licked, nibbled, sucked, and tongued her clit, and asshole, while I tongue fucked her vaginal opening, and in the process licked her 'G' spot and cervix (my tongue is THAT long). My efforts on her pussy were rewarded with her taking a 'death grip' on my horns, pulling my face into her pussy, and her first creamy orgasm of the day, as well as more incoherent moans of pure ecstasy from her.

I'd occasionally glance over to my left at Liz, where she was furiously rubbing her clit while finger fucking her own pussy while watching me expertly eating her sister's pussy.

As I devoured her pussy, Abby came several more times on my face. I could tell with by both the change in her taste, and by how her moans changed as well. Eventually, she changed her grip on my horns and pulled me up out of her scrumptious pussy. I let her pull me up face to face with her, but slowly kissed my way up her lithe form. I started by kissing her neatly trimmed bush, then her lower abdomen, upper abdomen, left breast, right breast, neck, throat, and lips. She eagerly and hungrily kissed me back in spite of my face being completely covered in her cum.

After breaking the kiss, she breathlessly said, "Oh God Josh, that felt fucking amazing. No one's ever eaten my pussy like that before, but it needs to rest for a while."

"Oh my God Josh you fucking need to do that to me next," said Liz in an incredibly sensual voice.

I smiled at her and said, "I will in a minute Liz." Then turning back to Abby I said, "I'm going to do to Liz what I did to you baby. You rest for a while, then you should probably go get some water from the cooler. If you'd be so kind, please bring some back for Liz and I?"

She said, "Yes, I'll do that."

I then leaned in kissed her again, and backed up and off of her. As I stood up, they both leaned up and for the first time saw my erect member.

"Oh my fucking God," exclaimed Abby! "Have you always had that monster?"

"No, I haven't," I said. "I was half this size when we first met."

Liz only licked her lips and asked, "Can I suck it?"

"Maybe later," I said moving in front of her, "but right now you're the one who's going to get sucked on," I finished as I crawled on top of her. I then leaned in and kissed her, still with Abby's cum all over my face.

She didn't resist the kiss, she even licked some of her sister's cream off of my chin. Which made me want to fuck her right there, but I am a "lick it before you stick it" kind of guy so I had to go downstairs first.

I soon found out that while Abby was an incoherent moaner, Liz was a dirty talker. As I kissed my way down her body, I first stopped to worship her breasts, and she said, "Oh yes, baby, kiss my scar, and suck on my nipples." As I did so she said, "Oh God, that feels good. Now bite my nipples."

After loving on her breasts I kissed my way down to her bald pubic mound, dropped to the floor, and started kissing down the top of her right thigh. I then licked back up it. As I did, she giggled and said, "Oh, that tickles, don't stop."

I paused long enough to look her in the eyes and said, "Liz, your pussy and thighs are so wet with your cum from when you were masturbating earlier."

Smiling mischievously she asked, "They are?"

"You know that they are," I said in a mocking tone, "But your cum is as delicious as Abby's is." I then leaned back in and repeated to her left thigh what I'd done with the right.

Eventually I got to "The juicy center," and after licking her outer folds clean, parted them and started to eat her pussy in earnest. As I did so, Abby got up and went into the kitchen area for water.

At first Liz was just saying stuff like, "Oh, that feels good," "Oh right there," and "Oh, don't stop," but when I started tongue fucking her, she got very vocal.

The first time that I licked her 'G' spot, she moaned, "Oh, my God, what the fuck are you doing?"

Abby giggled knowingly from the kitchen area.

I flicked my tongue down, and ran the tip of it in a circle around her cervix, "Oh my fucking God, Abby do you know what he's fucking doing to me," she moaned?

"Is he licking your 'G' spot and cervix," asked Abby from the kitchen?

I licked her 'G' spot, and circle licked her cervix again. She moaned, grunted, and came, squirting into my open mouth, "Fuck you Abby." She grunted and squirted again, "You fucking know." Another grunt and squirt, "Full well what." A final grunt and squirt, "I'm talking about."

As I finished catching and swallowing her final squirt, I removed my mouth from her vagina and said, "Damn, Liz I didn't know that you were a squirter?"

"Are you mad," she asked?

"Mad, baby," I asked? "I'm ecstatic. I caught all of your squirt in my mouth and swallowed it all baby."

Abby returned to the sleeping area giggling and with an arm load of water bottles. "See sis," she said, "Like I've always told you, a real man..." She paused, looked at me then burst out in a fit of laughter at her choice of words. When she'd calmed down, she looked at me, and said to Liz, "A real MALE, who is worth your time and effort, will rejoice in your squirt. And by the looks of it, he did."

I looked at Abby, and in a posh English accent said, "Why, thank you madam, for that lovely endorsement." I then turned back to Liz, and said, "Now where was I? Oh, right," and buried my face back in her sex.

As I feasted on Liz's pussy, Abby crawled up into the bed, and laid beside her sister. The two of them kissed more like lovers than sisters. They even went so far as to fondle the other's breasts.

I licked, sucked, and tongued her to several more orgasms before she begged me to stop. As I stood up from the floor between Liz's legs, Abby looked at me and said, "My pussy's all rested now."

"In a minute Abby," I said, "I have to finish with Liz first." I then turned, grabbed a bottle of water off of the table where Abby'd left them, broke the seal on it, and crawled up next to Liz. I kissed her passionately, making sure that she tasted her own pussy on my lips, then handed her the bottle and said, "Drink this and rest a while gorgeous, because I'm not through with you yet," and kissed her again.

She said, "Thanks." Then got up out of the bed on unsteady legs and went to sit in a nearby chair and watch Abby and me as she drank her water.

As I crawled up between Abby's open legs, my "goat sausage" aimed at her wet and ready pussy, Abby said, "Josh, I've been waiting for over ten years for you to finally make love to me. Please be gentle?"

I leaned in and kissed her with Liz's cum still on my face, and she eagerly returned the kiss. I made a mental note to ask about how close their relationship as sisters was. I then leaned back, and placed the tip of my rod at the entrance to her love tunnel, and eased the tip in.

Her reaction was to bite her own lower lip, and to dig her nails painfully into my back, but you know the old gym saying "no pain, no gain."

I continued to ease my cock into her until it stopped. I looked at her, and reading the pained look on her face asked, "Abby are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said. "It's just been a few years since I've been with a man, and it hurts a little."

"Abby, I love you, and never want to hurt you," I said before it truly registered with me what I was saying, though truthfully it was a sincere comment. "If I hurt you, say something, and I'll stop."

"I love you too Josh, and I'll stop you if it hurts too much," she said.

"Okay," I said, "I'll begin now," then I started slowly trusting in and out of her.

I could see her wince in pain every now and again, so with my left hand on her right hip, and my right hand on her lower abdomen, I laid a superimposed mental image of her reproductive organs directly over their actual locations. The first thing that I noticed was that her uterus was alternating between flashing yellow AND red, and there were several heavy dark greenish-orange lines on it and on her cervix and inner vagina.

I continued to slowly pump into and out of her as I concentrated half of my brain on those thick dark greenish-orange lines, while the other half kept making love to her.

While the half on my mind concentrating on healing her watched as the heavy dark greenish-orange lines slowly they faded to bright red, before everything became yellow then green, the other half saw that she was crying and asked, "What's wrong Abby? Am I hurting you?"

"No Josh, you're not hurting me," she said. "I haven't felt this loved or cared for in years, when you're done, I'll tell you. Okay?"

"Sure thing beautiful," I said before continuing to make love to her and heal her.

The pace that I set was slow and steady, so it took about 45 minutes for me to feel my close to release, so I picked up the pace a tad. She'd multiple small orgasms, and I could feel her cream all in the fur of my legs, and loved it. It also took me that long to heal what I'd come to realize was scarring, more than likely from some kind of trauma to her vagina, cervix, and uterus.

As I neared my release I saw two little yellow points of light get ejected from her ovaries, and settle on the sides of her uterus and change to green. So I said, "Abby baby, I'm about to cum. Where do you want it?"

"Oh god Josh I'm about to cum again too," she said. "I think that it's gonna be a big one this time. Let's cum together, so let it all out inside of me"

"But Abby," I said, "You're going to get pregnant."

"No I'm not," she said, "I can't have kids."

I was two pumps from release, and moved my hands from where they were on her lower abdomen and hip, leaned forward and grabbed her hands interlocked our fingers, and put my hands back on her lower abdomen and hip just as we both said "I'm cumming."

The Image of my penis within her vaginal canal came quickly into view, and her eyes got as large as saucers as we watched as her vaginal muscles flexed around my shaft milking it of its potent seed, as well as said seed shooting out of my penis and into her uterus. We watched as the two green points of light changed to one blue and the other pink.

She looked up at me and asked, "What the fuck was that?"

"Would you believe that we just conceived a son and daughter," I asked?

She looked at me and burst out crying.

With my cock still in her, I reached up and stroked her face. "What's wrong Abby?"

"Oh god," she said with a mixture of anger and apprehension in her voice, before shoving me off of her, "I can't have kids. I desperately want kids, but can't have them because of an injury a while ago. I'll have to get a plan B because a pregnancy will likely kill me."

"I'm sorry Abby," I apologized. "But if you're concerned about the vaginal scaring, it's gone."

She turned to look at me and asked, "How did you know? What did you do?"

"I healed you while we made love," I said. I thought about where on my body I had an internal scar to show her what one looked like and thought of the broken arm I'd suffered as a kid. I put my hand over where the break had been, and I saw a dark greenish-orange line where the break had been, so I grabbed her hand again and interlocked our fingers and put it over my healed injury. "This is a broken bone scar," I said. Then moving our hands back to her lower abdomen, "This is your reproductive organs, do you see any scars?"

She then looked at me and asked, "Really? I'm really healed? I'm really pregnant? And I can really carry your children to term?"

"I don't see why not," I said.

Liz plopped down next to her sister and said, "Abby, I tried telling you months back that I thought he could heal you, but you told me shut to shut up."

Abby looked back at me, and said "You really do love me. You saw a problem inside me, and fixed it." She looked at me then told me what had happened to her. She said that she'd had one bad boyfriend after another and finally thought she found 'Mr. Right' in college and got married. It turned out that he was a violent alcoholic who beat her. The last straw was when he saw her talking to a very gay classmate while she was about 4 months pregnant with his child and he beat her and brutalized her with a broom handle causing her to loose the baby. Before she lost consciousness from blood loss, she made it to their bedroom retrieved her.38 S&W, and shot him dead. The police and EMTs arrived in time to save her life, but she was told that she'd never have kids.

When she was done with her tail, I hugged her, and whispered, "Abby I'm sorry that I never realized that you were into me as deeply as I was into you, to prevent you from going through all of that. But I'm here for you now."

She looked at me, said "Thank you," and rested her head on my shoulder.

I sat there holding Abby for a few minutes before Liz suggested that we take a break from our carnal activities for a while, and just cuddle on the bed. Which we did, with Abby in the middle of Liz and I.

We rested for a few hours until we all decided that we were hungry, and Abby got up, and ordered us some local delivery food (as everything in her apartment was for one person)

Abby ordered us three chicken katsu loco moco plate lunches with over medium fried eggs, and yakisoba on the side.

While Abby placed the order, Liz cozied up to me, and while looking me in the eyes placed her hand on my penis sheath. She gave me puppy dog eyes and said, "Gosh, Josh, I'd sure like to taste your sausage now." She started slowly squeezing and jacking my sheath and asked, "How do I get it out of this pesky thing."

"You're doing exactly what you need to do my dear." I moaned.

As the pink tip slipped out she said, "Oh, look, it's coming out to play." As more of it emerged, she didn't stop jacking my sheath, but leaned in and took what had emerged in her mouth. She gave me a good down and up on my shaft, pulled off, and smacked her lips in contemplation before saying, "I can taste Abby's cum still on it, what I assume is your cum still on it, but I also detect a taste that I can't place. It's not unpleasant, but it's also familiar at the same time." She then proceeded to start blowing me in earnest.

Liz was an amazing cock sucker, and after Abby placed the food order, she climbed back into the bed, and lay next to me, placing her head on my chest, and watched as her little sister sucked my cock.

I didn't make any moves on Abby during Liz's blow job, because I sensed that she just wanted to be held, so the most forward thing that I did was to stroke her hair.

About 25 minutes after she'd placed the order there was a knock at the door. Abby got up out of the bed, threw on a bathrobe, and answered the door to take the food. Then after she closed the door, she came walking back through with something that smelled absolutely delicious. "You two better hurry up, or the food will get cold."

"Oh god Liz," I said as I felt imminent release, "I'm about to cum." She hummed on my stick, and I released my load. I don't think that she was ready for the amount that a satyr releases when he himself, because she was having a hard time swallowing it all, and some of it rolled down my shaft and into my pubes.

After I finished cumming, Liz cleaned my cock, then as she let it slip out of her mouth, she said, "God damn it Josh, warn a girl first."

"Liz," I said, "I did warn you that I was about to cum."

"You didn't warn me about how much you were going to cum," she said. "It's no fucking wonder that you knocked Abby up."

"Hey you two, your foods going to get cold," said Abby from the kitchen area.

We both got out of the bed to go eat, but as we did I said, "Your getting knocked up next."

We sat naked at Abby's dinning area table and had a nice late lunch or early supper. We made idle small talk and enjoyed each other's company. The food itself was a tad spicy, owing to the curry sauce in it, but it was delicious.

Afterwards, Abby looked at me, got up, and came around to me. She looked me in the eyes, and said, "Thank you for this," as she rubbed her lower abdomen. She briefly turned to look at Liz, then turned back to me and continued, "I'll clean up here, take Liz back to the bed, and knock her up too."

I smiled at her stood up, and passionately kissed her, and said, "You're very welcome." I placed my hands on her hips and followed with, "You were given these wonderful 'birthing hips' for a reason, it would be a shame to let them go to waste."

She blushed, and put her hands on top of mine and said, "That's the sweetest and most sincere 'left-handed' compliment I've ever received. Thank you."

"Well, I am left-handed, after all," I said before turning to Liz. Holding my hand out to her I said "Liz, if you'd please accompany me to the bed, I'd love to put a couple of 'kids' in you."

She accepted my hand, but while walking asked, "You're joking about getting me pregnant, right?"

"Oh, no," I said turning towards her, "I'm very serious about getting you pregnant. If you don't want to get pregnant, tell me right now and we'll stop right where we are."

She looked me in the eyes, looked down at my erection, then back into my eyes. She bit her lip in what I figured was thought, then she took the lead and led me to the bed.

At the bed, she dropped me hand and climbed into it on her hands and knees. Before she got too far away, I dropped behind her, spread her ass cheeks apart, and buried my face once again in her deliciously wet sex.

I repeated on her pussy and ass what I'd done earlier, but from a different direction, and she almost immediately came all over my face.

I licked her through three more orgasms before, "Fuck, I'm cumming so fucking much, please, I'm begging you fuck my poor little pussy already?"

"You wish is my command," I said to her. "So scoot up a bit, please?"

She did as I'd asked, and I climbed into bed behind her. Before she could do or say anything, I slid my raging erection into her sopping wet pussy. As I bottomed out in her pussy she moaned, "Oh, fuck, now that's what I'm talking about." She then moaned, "Oh my fucking god, I needed a good fucking like this," as I started to seriously fuck her. She then dropped down and buried her face in a pillow as the room was filled with the sounds of my pelvic area clapping against her ass.

As we fucked, I kept one hand on the small of her back while I kept the other on her hip so that I could watch as my cock slid into and out of her. I was watching as she ovulated two ovum, and they came to rest on her uterine walls.

She came very vocally several times before the near constant spasming of her vaginal muscles sent me over the edge, bathing her uterus in my readily flowing seed. I watched as her ovum got fertilized, and stayed inside her until my penis retracted and fell out of her.

As we lay there post coitus, Abby crawled between her sister's thighs and started licking my semen out of Liz's pussy. I laid there, spooning her and caressing her sweaty body. As I gently traced the star shaped scar on her left shoulder blade, I asked, "Liz, I know that I'm in no position to force you to do anything with your own body, but I'd like for you to do a few things if you're willing?"

Between moans, she asked, "What do you want me to do, Josh?"

"Liz, baby," I started, I'm a bush man, and I'd really appreciate it if you'd grow yours out, and that goes for you too Abby." Abby moaned a response into her sister's pussy, that I took as an affirmative answer, before I continued. "Liz, whatever you do, please don't ever cover up your bullet wound scars, because I always want a reminder of how we met."

"Can I maybe, enhance it with a tattoo or something," she moaned as Abby continued eating her pussy.

"Sure, do whatever you like, just please don't cover them up," I answered as Abby finished with Liz's pussy.

She shifted her attention back to me. She started kissing my furry ball sack, and jacking my sheath. Soon as the head of my penis started to reemerge, she started blowing me.

Thus, our weekend of lust started. The three of us fucked, and sucked in every way that we could think of, and in every area of Abby's apartment, to include on her balcony watching the sun come up over Honolulu on both Saturday and Sunday mornings.

Chapter 30

When I left Abby's apartment on Sunday evening, I'd lost count of how many times I'd cum in all of their holes. They'd both taken my semen anally, orally, and vaginally. Hell, they'd even played with it on each other's bodies. I only left because I'd been told to be back in my quarters by sunset.

I got back to the barracks I immediately got my stuff, and hit the showers to wash off 30 hours of wild, glorious sex. Afterwards, as I was walking back to my room, a member of the orderly room was walking down the hall, banging on doors shouting "Recall, Recall. Report to your platoon day room."

I went into my room and got dressed then repeated to the day room. Our platoon leader 2nd Lt. O'Riley came in and started briefing us. "Listen up folks," he said, "it's on, we're finally going to hit those Chi-Com bastards. The objective of our drop is the Haikou Meilan international airport on Hainan Island. As all of you know, we've been making our practice jump with live ammo. Well the reason has always been a matter of operational security. So if Chi-Com agents were watching us, it would take them a while to figure out that we weren't practicing again, so get your gear, and get ready to go."

As we were getting up to go, our platoon sergeant, MSgt Lopez (a 5'3" Hispanic women), stepped into the room and said, "Listen up you guys. It's official, we're no longer the 39th Hussars, we're the 3rd Hussars of the 3rd Security Forces Group. I have unit patch bundles for each of you, so grab one on your way out."

As we all rushed past, going to our rooms, to grab our gear (body armor, webbed gear, helmets, and gas masks), she gave each of us a rubber banded bundle of patches. In my room, I removed one of the patches from the bundle, and swapped the one on the sleeve of my nomex flight suit (we vehicle crews had taken to wearing the nomex for it's flame resistance). I looked at it briefly, and it had a LAV-300 the lower left leg and an LAV-600 in the lower right leg of the old 3rd SPS's 5 point western sheriff's star. The center of the star was still Vietnamese bamboo with the liberty bell in one upper corner and a Korean bell in the other. I knew what everything meant, and it made me cry.

I had tears in my eyes as I scrawled a quick letter to Abby. It said "Dear Abby and Liz, I had an amazing time this weekend. I'm sorry that I won't be able to play with you lovely ladies next weekend, because duty called. I can't tell you where I'm going, but by the time that you get this you'll know. If everything goes well, I'll be back as soon as I can. If not, I love both of you and our unborn children deeply. Love Joshua. I wrote a similar letter to Celeste, Dawn, Lydia, and Robbie. As I proceeded to the armory to draw our weapons and ammunition, I dropped both letters the nearest mailbox. From there we were trucked out to the flight line, where we geared up with parachutes, and loaded up on the C-141s and set off on our flights out.

We were wheels up at around 22:00. It was a fourteen hour flight, involving an aerial refueling. We all took the time to just "turtle" up into our body armor, and get some sleep on that long flight.

We got the red light at about 05:50 and stood up. We checked each other's parachutes, and got ready to drop. We then got the green light at 06:00, and hit the silk. We went out of the side doors of the C-141, while our LAV-300s & LAV-600s with their M-101 trailers loaded with our gear, food, water, fuel, and ammunition went off of the rear ramp. Soon after I went out the door I was jerked up by my ball sack and looked above me to see my camouflaged parachute canopy opening above me. As I was floating down over the airport, I admired the early morning light.

As I looked down to see where I was heading, I noticed streams of emerald green tracers stabbing up at us. "Fuck," I said, "The Chi-Coms are awake." I saw two Chinese Security Force Humvees disgorging fire-teams, who were moving into a position to shoot at me, so I pulled a pair of frag grenades, one in each hand. I thumbed off the jungle safeties, pulled the, pins, and tossed them in the direction of the two Humvees.

Apparently I timed my tosses correctly, as they detonated just inside of the Chinese Humvees' turrets, presumably killing the gunners. The other members of Chinese fire-teams had gone prone to avoid getting hit by grenade fragments, which was protocol for all armies, however, in the process they a had also increased their own centers of mass to me. After I'd dropped the grenades, I'd brought my M-2001 (a variant of the AR-18 but in 7×51mm NATO that they had replaced armor crew's M-1969s with, that utilized the same magazines) around and readied it to fire. I then double or triplet tapped each of them, hopefully hitting and neutralizing all of them.

The ground was quickly approaching, so I dropped my weapon to catch back on its sling and prepared for a PLF (or parachute landing fall). With my hooves and knees together, I hit the ground and rolled to avoid serious injuries. I quickly released my parachute, and started removing my parachute harness, then as soon as I could I reloaded my weapon, and turned seeing my vehicle some 100 meters away.

As I moved away from the two Chinese fire-teams and what I assumed was a security building, one of them started firing at me. I turned back to him, sighted in on him with my ACOG scope, and double tapped him. I only registered that he dropped from my scope, and went quiet before I started heading for my vehicle. While I was running towards it, several bullets zinged past me as more Chinese troops tried to stop me.

I soon got to my LAV-600, and while under constant enemy fire helped the rest of my crew get her uncoupled from the pallet that she and her M-101 trailer had been dropped on. After we had her unchained, the gun travel lock opened and stowed, my driver SrA Aguilar (a Hispanic elf), and radio operator SrA Johansen (a blonde orc from Minnesota), climbed into their stations and started preparing to start the big girl running. My gunner, A1C Thompson (an orc from Tennessee) and I picked up my gun shield and mount, and put it in the pintle hole. I then mounted and loaded my M-37A6 Browning machine gun, while A1C Thompson then dropped into his position, and loaded his M-37 coaxial MG, and the 105mm M-68A4 main gun.

I should probably explain our machine guns here. Someone apparently copped a clue, and fitted our vehicles with newly built redesigned M-1919 Browning derived M-37 machine guns. The guns fired nothing but the new 200 grain copper jacketed tungsten steel 7.62×63mm [aka.30-06] M-3 armor piercing and armor piercing incendiary tracer ammunition. They had stronger barrels, made with modern metallurgy and the bores were chrome lined, to reliably feed the HOTTER loaded M-3 AP & APIT ammunition. We'd been told that they were supposed to punch through 21 mm of armor at 300 meters, and 7 mm at a 900 meters, but most of us were skeptical and wanted to see it to believe it.

The differences between our two weapons were that his was nearly identical to the original M-37 save for what I've already mentioned, and the M-1919A6 flash suppressor, while mine resembled the M-1919A6 but without the lighter barrel & bipod. Mine also had a scope mount screwed into the left rear of the receiver where an AN/PVS-4 was mounted. Also, they both retained the M-37's ability to feed from the left or right which was understandably handy.

Then once we were all at our positions, we got Henrietta (female form of Henry, because the same 'nose' art was stenciled to the left and right of the main gun's mantelet) into the fight.

As soon as we got moving, we heard a male voice transmit, "Any armor, this is Tiger three, any armor this is Tiger three, come in over."

During training, call signs had been discussed and I suggested using the 3rd SPS's old system of naming flights, or in our case platoons, by using the names of fearsome mythical or real animals. Alpha flight had been Cobra flight, Bravo flight, had been Nighthawk flight, Charlie flight had been Panther flight, and Delta had been Dragon flight. So each flight of each squadron had chosen either a ferocious mythical or real animal. So I knew that Tiger three was the squad leader of 1st squad of Bravo platoon the 3rd Fusiliers Squadron.

I keyed my mic and said, "Tiger three, this is LAV (pronounced as it's spelled) Henrietta, what is your traffic over." Our call signs were based on the names of our vehicles.

"Thank God," came the exasperated transmission, "LAV Henrietta this is Tiger three, we are pinned down in the east west running drainage ditch 100 meters north of the security station, and are taking cross fire from both the security station and a pair of Chi-Com Humvees approximately 400 meters north of us. Please help over "

Looking over to my gunner's open hatch I keyed my mic and transmitted, "Tiger three, this if LAV Henrietta, I copy your predicament and will assist. Hold on over."

I then put my right hand on the pistol grip, and my left hand on the butt stock of the Browning to steady it on my right shoulder. I briefly moved my right hand to rack back its bolt and looked at the security building through my scope. Because it was day time, the lens cap was still on it, but was set to the 3 smallest holes. I could see the lines of tracers coming from the security building, some of them pinging off of my gun shield, and keyed my intercom with my left hand. "Aguilar, move towards the fence, and push through it."

"Rodger that sarge," came the slightly accented voice with a lisp from the driver's station, as the vehicle started moving forward, and then turned to the right, and I swung my cupola to the left.

"Thompson, engage at will the Cho-com Humvees 500 meters to the front, I'll engage the security building " I said over the intercom. "Try to conserve your one oh five ammo though."

"Wilco, sarge," came the Tennessee accent to my right.

As I placed my left hand back on the butt stock, I heard another transmission, "Henrietta, this is Havoc, over" They were the crew that got "Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war" and the LAV-300 with us on the C-141.

Then as I started firing, at muzzle flashes, I heard, "Havoc, this is Henrietta, go ahead, over." The reply had come from my radio operator, SrA Johansen. In spite of being one of the changed, he was the typical Nordic kid from Minnesota, he even had that nearly Canadian accent that folks up on the northern border have "Ya, don't cha know."

"Henrietta, we'll take care of the security building, you assist Tiger three, over."

"Rodger that Havoc. Tango Mike over."

At the end of the transmission, I saw a multiple grenade flashes from a windows of the security building, and I knew that Havoc had opened up her her Mk-19. I still sent bursts of 200 grain copper jacketed tungsten steel hate into every window that I saw muzzle flashes from, but I was no longer worried about getting back shot when I had to address the enemy to our front.

Knowing that Havoc and her fire-teams had the security building well in hand, I turned my cupola to face the enemy to our front just as we ran over the flight line perimeter fence. As I did, a sharp loud crack emanated from the main gun, and one of the enemy Humvees disintegrated in a black puff. The vehicle briefly shuddered as the M-68 105mm cannon recoiled, and ejected the spent case out the rear of the turret. I then heard "Scratch one Chi-Com Humvee," over the intercom. A1C Thompson then said, "HEAT up, round out," and the cannon cracked again, resulting in another black puff, and disintegrating Humvee.

As we headed out onto the flight line, we had to cross a drainage ditch and that shook us up s bit, but I kept up my fire on the Chi-Com fire-teams keeping Tiger three pinned down.

Thus began the battle of the Haikou Meilan international airport. The airport was poorly defended by presumably civilian airport security/police but they were bearing arms against us so were thus legal combatants. The battle was over by sundown, and reinforcements began to arrive. We only used the one oh five on select buildings, and the occasional Chi-Com Humvee. As soon as the regular "straight leg" security forces, started arriving with reinforcements from Hawaii and the Philippines, we headed out into the surrounding city with the 25th IFD to whom we'd all been attached.

Those first 70 hours on the ground were rough and we didn't get much sleep, but thankfully we were only dealing with Chi-Com internal security forces/police. I'm not saying it was easy or anything, because those brave Chi-Com cops put up a tough fight.

Yes, I said brave. I said it because it's the only word to describe what I saw those men and women do in the face of the adversity imposed upon them by us. Yes, I shot, and more than likely killed more than a few of them, and we lost a lot of good folks to them, but what I felt was pride in their bravery. I know that it's a line from the film "Zulu," but it's the truth about how I felt.

Chapter 31

At 04:00 on the morning of the fourth day, the PLA arrived, and everything at least for me changed. We had moved out of the city, and were bivouacked inside of the cloverleaf where highways S-81, S-82, and G-98 all met.

As we were getting parked at around 23:00 April 3rd, I looked at the map in my turret, and made a decision. With the map in hand I climbed out of my vehicle, and went looking for Capt Pierce (yeah I realize he had the same name as Hawkeye on "M*A*S*H") the company commander of the Army company that we'd been attached to.

As I approached him I spoke, "Capt Pierce, a moment of your time sir?"

"What is it TSgt Kline?"

"Sir, it occurred to me," I said opening up the map, "That if the PLA is on the island, they're south of us, and will most likely come up highway G-98."

"I'm aware of that sergeant," he said curtly.

"Sir, I'm know that it is protocol to put out a listening post to our front," I said. "Would it not be wise to put one of the LAV-600s out there in the median somewhere as an ambush?"

As he looked at me I could see the gears turning in his head. He then asked, "What do you have in mind sergeant?"

"Sir," I started, as my mouth went dry over the thoughts that I was trying to explain, "Sir I'm asking permission to take my LAV-600 down about a klick. Look for a nice pull off in the median and park there. We lay field phone wire behind us, and hook it into our radio. I'll let you know how far down I am, and if the PLA shows up, I'll open up with my one oh five. You'll certainly hear my big gun, and be able to call for fire on or near my position."

"That's fucking suicide sergeant," he protested.

"Sir, what if a platoon comes along with us, armed with anti-tank weapons and digs hasty scrapes to our front on either side of the highway? We could significantly hurt the PLA before they get here."

He looked at me, then turned and yelled, "Lt. Robins, SSgt Hewitt over here."

Soon a baby faced 2nd lieutenant and a SSgt arrived. They both looked as tired as I felt, but the Lt still sloppily popped to attention, and saluted, "Lt Robins and SSgt Hewitt reports as ordered."

"Would you fucking stop that," admonished Capt Pierce. "Are you actively trying to get me killed."

"No sir, I forgot," he said.

"Okay then," replied Capt Pierce. Then turning to me he said, "TSgt Kline here has an absolutely insane idea that just may work, now listen up."

We briefed the two on my idea. While the Lt was leery, the SSgt had a shit eating grin on his face. "God damned, sir," he exclaimed, "that's a great idea! I bet we'll kill a ton of those Chi-Com sons of bitches that way. I have only one change to make though," he said. "We lay two field phone wires to the two halves of the platoon instead of the LAV."

Capt. Pierce looked at him, "That makes sense sergeant, make it happen."

"Yes sir," he said. "I'll go get the men ready to travel, and we'll start setting up once Kline gets Henrietta in position."

I went back to Henrietta, and briefed my crew. I looked at them all and offered them an honorable out, "Help me get Henrietta down there, and once she's in position, you all can leave and join up with the Army. I can take over the main gun and use up what's in the magazines, before I bail out."

I immediately got three variations of "I'm staying with you."

I looked at the three determined faces, and said, "Okay then, let's drop our trailer here, and head out."

We soon found ourselves parking in a turn around spot in the median about a klick down the road. I was pleasantly surprised to find that they Chinese road construction crew had left wonderful, presumably steel reinforced, concrete block on either end of the median barriers. The fact that they were there would give Henrietta a bit of cover to her front from enemy anti tank fire.

As we set up the crew suggested that we drop the rear ramp, and open the magazine doors, to quickly reload if the fight gets too intense. I may be in command of the vehicle, but a good commander, like Capt Pierce, listens to his subordinates' suggestions and acts on them if they sound feasible.

We finished getting set up by midnight April 4th. Afterwards, I set up a watch order, to keep us safe and for the guys to get some rest. Each watch was for two hours, starting with me, then SrA Aguilar, then SrA Johansen, and finally A1C Thompson. I started my watch by brewing a cup of instant coffee (we all carried instant coffee, hot cocoa, and instant oatmeal "pogie bait" at command's insistence) over a heat tab bar, and sat in my turret drinking coffee and watching the road.

A1C Thompson was asleep, "turtled up" at his station, while SrAs Aguilar and Johansen slept on the ground behind the vehicle. At 02:00, after my two hours, I went and woke up SrA Aguilar for his watch, and "Turtled up" in my armor to sleep.

I was sleeping as well as I could when SrA Aguilar started shacking me and whispered, "Sarge, I hear diesel engines coming from up the road," he said pointing to our front."

"Fuck man, I was dreaming good too," I said as I looked at my watch it read "03:55." Turning back to SrA Aguilar I said "Go wake up Johansen, it's almost his shift anyway, I'll check my scope." I reached up, and flipped on the AN/PVS-4 with the lens cap removed and looked up the road.

I could see faint lights from black out head lights on both sides of the road. As the vehicles came closer I could tell that they were Chi-Com type 92 IFVs (infantry fighting vehicles), basically the Chi-Com version of us. I reached over and nudged A1C Thompson, "Hey Thompson, wake up buddy, we have action front."

"Huh, what did you say sarge," he said groggily as he woke up."

"We got what I'm assuming is a scouting mission coming our way," I said to him. "Don't fire until they're 50 meters away."

"Rodger that sarge," he said with a smile, as he flipped his scopes onto battery power.

I re-shouldered my M-37A6, and looked through it's scope and waited.

In case the PLA was using IR scanners, Henrietta's engine was cold, as we intended it to be. As the type 92s approached my trigger finger was itchy, then at 50 meters, A1C Thompson and I opened up. He took the vehicles on the right side, and I took the vehicles on the left. His 105 barked once, then a second time, and two PLA vehicles disappeared in flashes. My M-37 spit 200 grains of hate at the vehicles, at a rate of 750 rounds a minute, and strangely, the tracers didn't bounce off of it, but I could see them bouncing around inside the vehicles through the "bulletproof" glass. Then two fiery streaks appeared from behind me to the left, and the two vehicles that I'd engaged disappeared in flashes. I turned to look behind me, and saw Aguilar and Johansen tossing disposable AT rocket tubes away.

In the lull after the brief skirmish we reloaded Henrietta's magazines, and started and buttoned her up. I looked at Aguilar and Johansen, and said, "Listen guys, I'm not entirely sure how this is going to go down, and want both of you to be safe as possible. So I'm ordering you both to head over and link up with the Lt Robins platoon." They looked like they were going to start to protest, until I held up a hand and said, "I expect this area is going to catch a lot of HEAT, and you guys will die if that happens. So link up with the Army, that's an order."

They looked at each other and in unison said, "Yes sir." They grabbed their gear and hoofed it to where the Army was.

As I climbed back into the turret A1C Thompson asked, "Where are they heading?"

"To safety, I hope," I said. "I'd have sent you too, but I need your help," I reluctantly replied.

He looked at me, and a grim determination spread across his face before he spoke, "I'll make you proud sergeant," before he dropped back into his hole. We then waited and listened for the PLA tanks to arrive. We didn't have to wait long, as they soon crested the hill.

I keyed my intercom and said, "Thompson, as soon as you think you can make a kill on an enemy tank, take your shot."

"Rodger that sarge," he said as he touched off the first round at a 1000 meters, driving a 105mm HEAT round into the belly of a PLA type 79 tank cresting the ridge, on the right side destroying it in a flash.

"Also switch between the left side and right side between each shot," I added.

"Gotcha, sarge," he acknowledged before repeating on the left what he'd done on the right. And so it went, left right, left, right, PLA tanks bursting in fire as Thompson, while singing "Another One Bites The Dust" by Queen at the top of his lungs over the intercom, destroyed the PLA tanks one after another, and I sprayed each vehicle in turn with bursts from my Browning. He quickly became a tank ace and had just become a double tank ace when our luck ran out.

The first enemy HEAT round hit us in the engine compartment, killing the engine, and setting us on fire. "Thompson, we're hit," I said. "Pop your hatch and get out. I'll cover you and come when you're in the clear," and laid into the firing the Browning.

Thompson didn't waste time on words, and was doing as I'd instructed. He had his hatch open, and was halfway out of it when the second HEAT hit us in the mantelet in front of him, killing him instantly and sending hot shards of metal into my lower legs.

I felt myself briefly fall into the turret, when a violent explosion threw me from the turret. In great pain, I tucked into a ball as I flew through the air, and landed on my back.

The landing forced the air from my lungs. As I lay there gasping for breath, I remembered the last time I'd been with someone in a similar situation so I closed my eyes and focused on my body.

I was immediately assaulted by flashing and steady red organs, limbs, and other systems all over my body, and immediately went into the ABCs. I knew that I had less than 4 minutes to get my airway straight, so I concentrated on that first.

My lungs were partially collapsed, so I focused on them and willed them to open up. They were soon yellow, but I was breathing again. I decided then and there, that I'd only worry about getting my body into yellow caution mode, and wait for green to happen on its own.

Then it was time to focus on getting any bleeding stopped. As I scanned my body, I noticed that most of my bleeding was minor and could wait, but the most significant bleeding was my lower legs. As I concentrated there, I almost gave up, because I could see that from just below my knees, every thing went from red quickly to black. "I guess, I'll be an amputee then," I thought to my self, as I focused on expelling the black, then cutting off blood supply to dead and dying areas, then on fusing shattered bone back together in areas that were still alive. Again, I only concentrated on getting things into the yellow.

As I fixed system after system, the battle around me raged, but it was not my concern at that moment in time as I was actively fighting my for my life. As I was finishing, with nearly my whole body in yellow, I still felt odd. I searched again, and finally found the issue. I had several broken vertebrae and my spinal cord damaged.

I concentrated on getting the vertebrae at least yellow, then concentrated on getting my spinal cord into the yellow. Afterwards, I ran through every neuron of my central nervous system, making sure that they were okay. It was while doing this, that I discovered a small brain bleed that I missed earlier, and I concentrated on it until it was fixed, and any clots dissolved and back into red blood cells.

I then double and triple checked every system making sure everything was in a semi working order when I realized that it was quiet.

I soon heard familiar voices that I knew, but couldn't quite place. "Thompson's dead man."

"Fuck. I really liked that kid. Do you see the sarge?"

"Fuck, man, I don't... Wait a minute, is that him over there?"

"Fuck, it is."

That was followed by running feet. "Fuck, man, he's fucked up. Is he alive?"

"Check his pulse dumb ass?"

"Oh yeah, right."

I felt pressure at my throat as what I assumed was two fingers were searching for my carotid artery. I wanted to move my arm and show him where to find it, I wanted to open my eyes and say, "I'm alive fucknut," but I was just so tired that I couldn't move.

He found It, held it for about a minute and yelled "Medic, medic. TSgt Kline's alive, but he's fucked up bad."

More running feet followed by a male voice saying "Fuck how is he still alive?"

"Careful with him," said a female voice, "The way he landed he probably broke his back."

"No fucking duh," I was screaming in my head. "I fixed it already fucknuts."

"Did you hear something," asked the female medic?

"No, I didn't hear a thing," he said.

"That's because you're fucking deaf asshole," I screamed again.

"There it is again," said the female voice.

I sensed hair touching my face and for some strange reason started singing "Knocking on Heaven's Door" by Bob Dylan at the top of my voice.

The hair quickly left my face, and then one eye lid was pulled open, and a light shined in, then the same thing happened to the other.

The female voice then yelled, "Get me a fucking back board, and a C-spine collar, and someone please call for a fucking dust off. This guy's still in there but I don't think he can hold on much longer."

"How do you know that he's still in there," asked the male medic?

"Get your fucking ear down near his mouth and fucking listen," she said. He's been trying to communicate with us, and if he's feeling what he's singing, he ain't got a lot of time left."

I felt as my armor was removed, and hands gently placed a collar around my neck, and then picked me up, sliding me up something hard. I then felt as I was strapped down to it, a sharp stabbing in my hand followed by something sticky, and a cold sensation running up my arm. Soon I heard the unmistakable sound of helicopter rotors approaching, and started singing "Gimme Shelter" by the Rolling Stones at the top of my voice.

I felt them pick me up again, carry me to, then load me onto the helicopter. I heard the female medic yell to the flight medic, "Take care of this one, he's the guy that Liz has been hanging around with."

"I understand," said the flight medic.

Liz, that name sounded familiar. As I thought about who Liz was, the names Abby, Celeste, Dawn, Lydia, and Robbie all flooded into my brain. I thought about them all and saw faces begging me to fight, to hang on, to me the man and father that they all knew that I was. The faces of Abby, Celeste, and Lydia all ordered me to hang on. They told me that I didn't have their permission to die. I somehow knew that they out ranked me and even more amazing knew what that meant

The helicopter that I was on flew for a long time, and when it landed, it was still moving, I was lifted off of the aircraft, and rushed into a small space that smelled of fuel oil. There were multiple turns and twists. I was taken to several rooms and set on a several tables, one of which hummed and clicked. Eventually I was carried into a room where another female voice said, "Now breath easy," as a mask was put over my face, and everything went black.

Chapter 32

The next thing that I knew was a loud roaring sound, and a brief sharp jerking motion that ended in what felt like flight. I zoned in and out of it until we landed where ever we were. As I heard the hydraulic whine of what I assumed was the doors being opened, I could feel the warm outside temperature enter the aircraft. I heard voices discussing removing casualties from one aircraft to the next, and could sense the movement around me. When it came my turn, I felt the stretcher that I was laying one being removed from some kind of rack, and carried to another aircraft, where I was placed in another rack. Then after, the now familiar hydraulic whine of the doors being closed, the new aircraft started its engines and taxied to take off, and we were airborne again.

The second flight felt far longer in spite of me zoning in and out of it. When we landed, I heard the hydraulic whine as the doors opened again and voices again talking about unloading the patients. As I listened, two voices sounded familiar. The names Abby and Liz filled my mind, and joy washed over me, I was home.

As the Abby voice got closer, and said "This one next Pvt. Jones."

"Yes, ma'am, Lt. Wilson," said the Liz voice.

I was screamed, "Abby, Liz, it's me I'm home."

I heard boots stop on the metal floor of the aircraft, and someone turn around. The Abby voice then skeptically asked, "Pvt Jones, did you just hear our first names whispered?"

"Yes ma'am I did," said the Liz voice. "But, I've been so worried about Josh, I both imagine and dread hearing or seeing him on one of these flights all of the time."

"I'm worried about him too," said the Abby voice, "But I don't imagine hearing him."

"Abby, Liz, it's me Josh, I'm here, I'm home," I screamed again.

"There it is again," said Abby and Liz together.

I sensed them turn to me, and felt them looking at my tag. I heard several deep breaths like someone trying to steel their nerves and the Abby voice said "Get him off of the aircraft Pvt Jones, we'll discuss this later and together we'll call the others. They should hear it from us."

"Yes, ma'am," said the Liz voice.

I soon felt hands lifting my stretcher out of the rack and take me to a waiting ambulance, and on to the hospital.

Chapter 33

I had no concept of time during this period, as my time was spent between what would best be described as either a conscious or an unconscious comatose state. I repeatedly tried to "wake up" but couldn't. I found that the only way I could communicate was it yell as loud as I could, but it only came out as a whisper.

During one of my conscious times, I heard a knock on my door, followed by a woman's voice, "How's my baby boy." My mind pegged it immediately as my mother.

I then heard another woman's voice, a deeper and with a heavy accent, "Mrs. Kline, the nurse at the desk said that he's basically comatose."

"I know," said mom, "But a mother has to hope."

"I understand," said Dawn, "I'm the mother of two of his children."

They paused, then I felt the bed shift as one stepped up to each side of the bed, and they each took a hand. I then felt someone brush the side of my face and someone else stroke my horns, though one felt weird.

"Mrs Kline," said Dawn, "I know that it may sound odd, and two years ago I wouldn't have thought to find them attractive, but he used to have such beautiful horns. I so hope that they grow back."

"I'll have to take your word on that," said mom, "but I'd love to see them, so I do too."

The two of them held my hands, and gave told me news of home. Mom told me that dad got called back to active duty as a Warrant Officer, and was training people to do his old job on the USAF. Dawn said that the babies were doing great, and that while Celeste, Lydia, and Robbie all wanted to be there, Celeste could only swing an emergency leave for her.

Then there was another knock on the door followed by Abby saying, "Hello I'm Lt Wilson, and this is Specialist Jones."

"Oh, God, Abby, Liz," said Dawn excitedly, "I'm so happy to meet you two. I'm Dawn Twowolves, and this is Mrs Kline, Josh's mom."

After grunts, that sounded like Dawn's hugs, and introductions with the obligatory "he's spoken so much about you" all around Abby got down to business. "This is what we know, when his vehicle exploded, he was thrown clear of it by 50 feet. He landed on his back, on a highway barrier. The crease in his body armor made the medics and surgical staff think that he'd broken his back, but x-rays indicate only a fracture. At some point in the process, he also suffered a skull fracture, but brain scans don't indicate a brain bleed. We also know that his lower legs were severely damaged, but this is where we start to understand what most likely happen." She went on, "During his x-rays, they found that the damaged portion of his lower legs had already been severed. So the surgeon debrided the wounds, and found fresh healthy flesh underneath the dead tissues. Thus given what we know of his history, we suspect that he healed himself."

"What are talking about, healed himself," my mother asked?

Then Liz explained how I'd healed her.

Then Abby piped in and finished with, "I don't think that he likes to talk about it, and as far as I know, he has only mentioned it once, and to me, but after he healed Liz, he said that he felt weak. He saved her life, but it took something out of him, if only briefly," she continued. "I believe that the act of healing his own injuries, as significant as they were, has him in this 'healing state.' My guess is that he'll wake up when his body is healed." She then walked up to me, stroked my face, leaned in and kissed me, and whispered, "I certainly hope so."

I concentrated as much as I could on squeezing my hands, and Dawn, asked, "How often does he squeeze your hands?"

"He hasn't," replied Liz.

"Well, he just squeezed mine," said mom.

"Both of you," asked Abby?

Mom and Dawn both said, "Yes."

Abby shown a pen light in my eyes, and asked, "Josh, if you can follow the light with your eyes?" I concentrated on the light and was able to follow it around. She then said, there is eye movement too, so he maybe starting to wake up.

I summoned up my remaining strength and yelled, "Thanks, Abby. Mom I love you, ladies I love all of you equally."

"See what I mean," said Abby, "He knows who is here an is trying to communicate.

I then felt someone over me and mom said, "I love you too baby, and kissed my forehead."

Then another kiss, on the lips this time, Dawn said "I love you too, you big lunk."

Then Liz kissed me, and said "I love you too."

Finally, Abby kissed me, and said, "I love you too, dumb ass."

As the four of them were walking out mom asked, "How many of you have slept with my son?"

"We all did," said Dawn.

"What," mom asked astonished? "How many is all?"

"There's six of us," said Abby.

"Six at last count," said Liz.

"There's six of us," said Dawn confidently. "After he called us long distance to ask for permission to add Abby and Liz to our group, I'm positive he'd have called before adding any more."

Mom cleared her throat nervously, then asked, "How many of you have children with him?"

Dawn said, "Only Celeste, Lydia, Robbie and myself."

"Liz and I suspect that we're pregnant with his children too, but are too early in our pregnancies to find out," said Abby.

"Good god," mom exclaimed! "How many grandkids do I have?"

Dawn said, "Right now, as we see it, you have nine, though one of the girls is technically Lydia's ex-husband's, however we're raising her as a full paternal sibling to the rest."

"Oh, said mom as the four of them got out of ear shot.

Chapter 34

I was injured early in the morning of April 4th 2002. I then stayed in a comatose state for 21 days until April 25th 2002. It took a lot of work and six months to build my strength back up, after my ordeal. Then I had to learn how to walk on spring blades, as that is what seemed to work best with double amputees with faun, minotaur, and satyr physiology. Once I was healthy enough, I was medically retired from the service with full benefits.

SSgts Aguilar and Johansen conspired to, and successfully sent me my weapons and gear (sans ammunition), to include my M-37A6 that they'd successfully recovered in serviceable condition from the wreck of Henrietta. They'd both been promoted following the battle, and were commanding LAVs of their own.

Thompson, got posthumously promoted to SrA, and received a Purple Heart, and a Bronze Star with a V device. I received a promotion to Master Sergeant, and 2 Purple Hearts (one for the Battle of Hotel Street), a Bronze Star (also for Hotel Street) and a Silver Star. Liz also got promoted, from Specialist to Sergeant, and received a Purple Heart and Bronze Star.

It took a decade and a lot of lives, but eventually the war ended. However, we still have occupational troops world wide (Anatolia, China, Cyprus, Korea, Kurdistan, Panama, and Venezuela to name a few) working with our allies to pacify the territories liberated during the war.

Try as we might, we could never soundly defeat the PLA. We did manage to take and hold the provinces of Anhui, Fujian, Guangdong, Jiangsu, Jiangxi, and Zhejiang. Which along with Hainan Island and Hong Kong were officially recognized by the United Nations as being annexed by Taiwan and became the new Republic of China.

The North Koreans fucked around with the South Koreans, and found out what an impotent little shit their dear leader wad when the South Koreans over ran them, and liberated the country.

The Republic of Turkey no longer existed, having been over run by the PKK in the east, and Greece in the west. The island of Cyprus was fully in Greek hands too.

While we didn't fight them, the Russians lost territory to their neighbors or as some of them now refer to themselves, "former hostage states."

The ladies eventually all got assigned to Hawaii, so we bought a large house to raise all of our kids in. I like most vets of the war, I got diagnosed with PTSD, but I had a very large and loving family to support me in my times of need.

It's been over 23 years since the change took place, and while we now know that magic was slowly coming back into the world, we still have no fucking clue as to why some were changed and others weren't. There was no rhyme or reason to who got changed, it was apparently just random.

The strangest thing though during the war, however, and something that perplexes me to this day is no matter how bad the fighting got, no matter where we were or who we were fighting, no one launched nuclear weapons. Nuclear armed powers fought against each other almost the whole time, but no one ever used them. It's like they couldn't. There's been speculation all over the place as to why, but the consensus is that they just wouldn't work.

Honestly, I'm just happy to have survived it all.