A Farewell to Arms

I actually got a "Dear Fredric" letter while I was over there. It was depressingly hackneyed. She told me that she was "lonely." Then she proceeded to list all of the other phony excuses that people who lack character like to cling to.

So, against my natural inclination to stay as far as possible out of harm's way, I volunteered to remain in-country. I had nothing further to lose, except my life.

The divorce papers arrived via APO.

Catherine had been the well-loved child of two physicians. They even loved her enough that they forgave her for becoming a nurse, rather than a doctor.

She chose to become a nurse because she said that was where the real "hands-on" in medicine took place. And she got a nurse-practitioner sub-specialty in Trauma Care because that was where the action was.

Crazy as it might sound, she said that she had joined the Reserves so that she COULD be deployed. That was because the love of her life was serving the obligatory time that all of the aristocratic types serve in The Sandbox. It was meant to turbo-up his career in the Guards.

They had been lovers for eight years, starting when she met the dashing Captain Anthony Lawson in a London bar at age 19. He was from the minor aristocracy and they led a life among the privileged class that I could barely imagine.

Unfortunately, the Taliban hadn't read the script. They say that the IED that consumed her lover's vehicle left a crater four feet deep and eight yards wide. They never actually found enough of him to bury. But the DNA sample was conclusive.

She was so shattered that they shipped her back to London.

She said that she experienced a profound sense of meaninglessness and desperation after the loss.

She said that she felt like she couldn't go on without the love and security that she had felt when she and her fiancé were together.

She regretfully admitted that she had kissed a lot of frogs during that period; just trying to recapture that loving feeling.

But she started to turn things around when she woke up one morning in a strange room with two guys.

That was when she had requested the deployment that she had just returned from.

She said that Rinaldi was the only man she had fucked since she had been back.

I thought to myself, "Ahem!! It HAS only been three weeks." But I banished that thought as unkind.

And besides, why should I care about Catherine Barkley's sex life. She was Rinaldi's woman not mine.

We had been sitting there for four hours and it was getting to be late afternoon. I asked her if she would like to grab dinner. I added, "You can invite Rinaldi if you want to." I thought that he might feel a little jealous if Catherine spent the entire day with me. And I didn't want to horn in on his relationship with this beautiful woman.

Catherine looked delighted and said, "Rinaldi's got other plans. When I told him that I wanted to spend some alone-time with you, he told me that it would be no problem. He would find his pleasure elsewhere. I know that he's a horndog if that's what you're wondering."

I laughed and said, "Rinaldi is one of a kind. But if I was as attractive to the opposite sex as he is I am sure I would act like that too."

We were sitting next to each other on the blanket. Suddenly she turned to me, grabbed the back of my head, and pulled me down to a long steamy open mouthed kiss.

I replied with absolute astonishment, wrapping my arms around her and tentatively sticking my tongue into her wildly seeking mouth. She moaned loudly and held my face between her two exquisite hands and just sucked on my tongue like it was something a little further down.

It was getting very hot and we were smack-dab in the middle of Hyde Park. So after what seemed like an eternity we broke apart, both of us panting like a couple of Mississippi porch hounds.

I looked in her eyes and I could see that what she had just done had surprised her too. She said, "You are the most interesting man I have ever met." That was news to me. Bizarre maybe - interesting, no.

She continued with, "You remind me of a bigger and more intellectual version of my Anthony. You are tall, and military strong. Your beautiful ice-blue eyes tell me how smart you are. You do your duty, and you have done brave things, even though you are not personally brave.

I thought wonderingly, "How did she know that?"

Then she looked at me with what appeared to be real affection and said, "Plus, you are a decent, self-effacing guy and there are very few men like you out there. Believe me, I've looked under a lot of rocks. Rinaldi is an adolescent next to you."

It takes an infinite set of complex variables to cement a relationship. And the woman I was holding in my arms just seemed to be the person who I naturally synched with. That was probably why she had managed to open me up in ways that no other human being had come close to doing.

That last act sort-of sealed things in a strange and unaccountable way. We were inexplicably a couple after that.

I am not a person who will normally look that figurative gift horse in the mouth - but COME ON!! She was miles out of my league. So if she DID mean it, the entire situation made no sense. And if she didn't mean it the joke was on me.

Originally, I think that she had just been playing her game of finding the Prince. And I was just the next frog in line. It would account for her totally irrational initial behavior.

And my motives toward HER were a lot more basic. I was motivated by pure unadulterated lust. That is a common phenomenon among people who are about to face dangerous things.

Okay!! She was an unattainable beauty who had inexplicably imprinted on me in some kind of baby duck fashion. And I wanted to see what kind of hay I could make from my good fortune. That was all there was to it - at first.

Rinaldi had said that an evening with Catherine Barkley was a once in a lifetime experience. So naturally she refused to fuck me before I went back - of course she did!!

Maybe it was a fidelity thing. I think that Rinaldi was still hitting her, because she stayed at his flat. But there was also something else with her and me.

I had never met a person, male-or-female, who I had such an instant deep personal connection with. And it had been established in a matter of hours, not months or years.

I know it sounds trite to talk about soul-mates but that was how it felt.

The odd thing about it was that she seemed to respond in the same way to me. It was obvious that she associated my return to the Sandbox with her old fiancé. And she was just not going to go down that road again. But she couldn't help herself.

I really didn't know her. And I really had no reason to think that I had any future with such a personally worthy, beautiful, sexually accomplished, and vibrant personality. But I had the sinking feeling that I had just encountered my one shot at happiness with a woman.

We spent two days just laughing and talking. We slept together the final night. But we didn't do anything more than teenaged messing around. And we were both fully clothed while we were doing it - just like in my back seat days.

We both knew how totally hot she was. But It was like we both also recognized that the stakes in the game were a life together. And we wanted to take it slow and careful,

I DID discover that Catherine Barkley could kiss like no other women ever born. She was absolutely all there in the moment when we kissed. It was as if she was trying to merge her consciousness with mine. You didn't get the impression that she was doing her grocery list, or reminiscing about her favorite song when our mouths were joined. You could sense her overwhelming hunger. She held nothing of herself back.

I also discovered that I could make her loudly cum just playing with the little pink nipples on her full, perfectly shaped breasts. I couldn't imagine what she would be like when we got down to actually doing it. But I COULD understand what Rinaldi saw in her.

Speaking of Rinaldi. He seemed to just withdraw from the game. He was as friendly and full of life as ever; not in the least bit resentful. But it was like he was almost relieved that the two of us were interested in each other. Maybe he was a better friend than I thought.

She accompanied me to the hanger when I few back. This was a military flight. So there was no civilian airport security. Plus, we were all leaving for six months. Consequently, there were a number of wives and girlfriends just hugging and kissing their men.

All of the guys were dressed like me in BDUs which admittedly look a lot like badly designed pajamas. Catherine was the star of THAT show though. There were guys who were shipping out who were giving her the eye, even as they were waving goodbye to their spouses.

I held her in my arms one last time, smoothed her flaming hair and looked into those incredible emerald eyes and said, "I don't know where this is leading. But I want you to know that I'm not playing our game anymore. I love you like I have never loved anything in my life. And when I get back we need to talk about where that leads."

She covered her face and burst into tears. Through her sobs I thought I heard her say, "I love you. I love you even more than Anthony. Don't die. I couldn't bear it!!"

That was very good news indeed. I turned threw the strap of my pack over my right arm and trudged up the cargo ramp of the Globemaster III. It was taking me away from the only thing that I had ever valued or wanted in my entire miserable life and I just couldn't look back.

We corresponded by e-mail. And I used my satcomm. privileges for a few surreptitious personal calls. She seemed in good spirits. But she was clearly regretting every second we were apart.

I couldn't take my mind off of her. And that was a dangerous state to be in. Because I knew that I was going to get myself killed if I didn't get my head back in the game. And two months into the deployment that premonition proved absolutely correct.

I had been working with the Army at Forward Operating Base Salerno. FOB Salerno is outside of Khost, which is not very far from Tora-Bora. That was the place on the Pakistani border where Bin Laden hid out. And it is also not far south of Gandamak where the last stand of the 44th of Foot, in the British invasion of Afghanistan was fought in 1842. Only one soldier survived that massacre.

Unfortunately, we haven't learned much since then.

The CIA flies drone strikes from Salerno and FOB Fenty in Jalalabad. And most of the locals know that those missions are controlled from inside those bases.

So they get mortared about as frequently as it rains in Seattle. I make it a policy to say out of bombaconda areas like that. But somebody on the Pakistan side of the border was messing with the 26 gigahertz band that the CIA uses to transmit its targeting data. So I was there to see what I could see,

I quickly discovered that the culprits were our Pakistani friends; probably their ISI. And that was what I told the Station Chief. He took it in stride. The CIA people are all as political as hell. So they weren't going to cause any fuss with our alleged allies. Especially with the Pakistani version of their own Company.

I was just walking across to the DFAC for lunch when I heard a loud bang to my right. I didn't stop to investigate. I dove to my left. I am big and slow. But I can move a lot quicker when my precious hide is in jeopardy. And that was the only thing that saved me.

I heard the flash-bang of a second Russian 82-millimeter mortar. I felt the heat. And I knew that my number had finally come up.

~

I opened my eyes to the sound of beeping. I was wrapped in a forest of tubes and there were things stuck in both arms. I looked warily around and then went through the same checklist that everybody else goes through after they've been wounded; "head?" "check!", "arms?" - "check!", "body?" - "check!", "legs" - "uh, legs? Hey legs! Wake up!!"

I looked down and both of my legs were encased in some kind of contraption that made it impossible to move. Plus, I was beginning to experience a lot of pain in the region of my knees. There was nobody in the room. But there was one of those classic hospital buttons to push. And I pushed it like I was sending an SOS from the Titanic.

An Army nurse sauntered in with a pleased look on her face. I knew she was Army because she was wearing BDUs instead of scrubs. She said conversationally, "Welcome back Captain Henry. You've been asleep for a while."

I said, trying to sound "Army-Strong", but with my insides melting, "How long?" She said, "Well, we had to sedate you for the pain afterward, and for the trip back. It's been four days now. We started bringing you back from the sedation last night."

I asked the obvious question, "Where am I?" I was still trying to sound cool. I had my nerd pride. And nerds don't get emotional about anything but their VR game scores.

She said, "You're at Landstuhl."

Wow!! In four days they had brought me from the godforsaken edge of the earth to the best medical facility in Europe. I knew the drill of course. I had just never had the pleasure.

They had loaded me on a Blackhawk evac helicopter at Salerno and flown me back to Bagram, and then a C-17 to Ramstein AFB in Southwestern Germany. Then they took me right across Highway Six to Landstuhl Regional Medical Center. That is where all of the casualties from Afghanistan go.

The nurse took my blood pressure, checked my temperature and fussed around with the equipment. Then she smiled kindly at me and said, "I'll get the doctor and he can explain."

Rinaldi walked into the room five minutes later. He wore a big shit-eating grin. He said jovially, "Well then old fellow, nice to see you." I tried to look like I had expected him all along as I laughingly said, "Rinaldi!! I knew you'd turn up sooner or later."

Since he was Rinaldi he couldn't just check my pulse. He had to grab me in a hug that was only slightly painful. You can take the boy out of Italy but you can't take the Italian out of the boy.

He stepped back and said lightly, "We had to remove a lot of Soviet shrapnel from your legs. And we gave you two new metal knees; courtesy of the U.S. government. You'll eventually be able to walk. But you are going to have to lie here for a while."

He smiled slyly and said, "Fortunately, I brought along something to help ease your convalescence." And rather than a vial of Oxy, he pulled a small bottle of brandy out of his doctor's coat.

I said with a laugh," That's my buddy." But I thought to myself, "I wonder if THAT will play well with all of the pain killers that they have me on?" Nonetheless, I took it and tucked it under the covers.

He said with sincerity, "Catherine has been frantically asking about you. You really need to talk to her." It was like he was scolding me for not staying in touch. I said, "I seem to have left my phone in my other pants." I clearly had no pants. He laughed and said, "Use mine."

I knew that her number would be on HIS speed dial. So I hit it and the phone rang. Voicemail answered. I left a message telling her that I had run into a spot of trouble in Afghanistan and as a result I was laid up at Landstuhl now.

Rinaldi chuckled and said, "Always a master of understatement. By the way, they have a Silver Star waiting for you when you get out in a couple of weeks. I hear that it's some kind of important American medal."

I laughed and said incredulously, "They want to give me a big piece of chest candy for getting blown up in the middle of an American operating base. That would be totally ironic - and ridiculous I might add."

Rinaldi said, "You ought to take it anyhow. You might do better with the women if you're wearing it."

I said in all seriousness, "How ARE you and Catherine working out?" I had to ask. It was THAT important.

Rinaldi laughed heartily and said, "Naughty boy!! You stole her away from me. She won't have anything to do with me or any other male at the hospital. All she can talk about is how happy and well-fucked she is going to make you when you get back."

My heart soared. I never thought that a single statement could affect me like that."

I said, "No hard feelings." Rinaldi looked at me like he thought that I was kidding. Then he said astounded, "No! You're serious! Of course not Old Boy - plenty more fish in the sea." And I really believed that he thought that.

Rinaldi hung around laughing and joking for another couple of minutes. Finally, I said, "Can we get around to the reason why you're here, which was to tell me my prognosis?"

He said breezily, "Oh yes - right! You were hit by both the shrapnel and the debris from a Russian 82-millimeter high explosive round. There was some damage to the muscles around your knee and both knee structures absorbed a bit of it. So we installed two artificial knee joints." That explained the extreme pain I was in.

He looked puzzled and said, "It looks like you were doing a somersault when it happened."

I smiled weakly and said, "I was diving out of the way."

Rinaldi said triumphantly, like they had been discussing it, "So THAT's why it seemed like you were upside down!! If you hadn't done that it would have been your head that would have absorbed all of the blast."

AAAggghhh!! As the shivers ran up and down my back I was thinking, "He needs to a little more work on his bedside manner."

Rinaldi continued with, "The wounds should be healed adequately enough that we can release you in a week or so. We are just concerned about infection now. But the joint replacement is going to require a much longer time to rehabilitate. So I am afraid that we are going to have to put you out to pasture."

That would have been the worst possible news two months earlier. But depending on what I heard from Catherine the pasture was the best imaginable outcome now.

I had thought about her every waking second that I was over there and I had made up my mind. She probably didn't know it yet. But I was going to do everything in my poor nerd power to make her my wife.

I had spent a lifetime as a solitary geek. And geeks don't need other people. We live solely in our head. And the concept of having to share our alone-time with another individual, particularly one who might keep us tied to the real-world, should have appalled me.

Instead I couldn't wait to see her, talk to her, and hold her. It was like a piece of me had been missing and I needed to get us back together before I was at peace. Of course I only had Rinaldi's word that she had longed for me. And he had taken his phone with him so I didn't really know.

I spent the rest of the day in the hospital routine. Anybody who has ever spent any time in a hospital knows what I'm talking about. No matter how kind they might be, you are basically a duty that the staff does. It isn't that they consciously dehumanize you. But when they are taking care of you, they seem to be metaphorically diagnosing an engine problem in a car.

The worst of the lot was the Head Nurse. She took an insane dislike to me, which colored her treatment. Her real name was Van Campen. But in my mind I called her "Nurse Bitch".

Her problem might have stemmed solely from Rinaldi's bottle of brandy. THAT was discovered almost immediately after he left. I wasn't going to rat out my pal. So while Nurse Bitch was interrogating me I just pled the Fifth.

The problem might also stem from the fact that she was so butt-ugly that she had probably been mistreated by every male in her personal history.

Women who have suffered from unjustified disrespect from men, will tend to take it out on all of the men they meet afterward. And although I might look like an alpha male, I actually ranked a lot lower in the Greek alphabet.