A Farewell to Arms

At any rate, Nurse Bitch made certain that I was checked regularly for any booze, drugs, or loose women I might have subsequently smuggled into my room. So her minions kept waking me up at all hours of the night.

Nonetheless, my only real concern was Catherine. She knew I was okay now. And I was very disappointed that she hadn't tried to get in touch with me. Her lack of interest seemed to presage the next stage in our relationship, which was the part where she dumped me.

I had been through several breakups in the past. It hurt for a while. Then you got over it. But then again, Catherine Barkley's case was a whole lot different. That was because I had discovered to my absolute and utter astonishment that I had invested every ounce of my personal hopes and dreams in her.

I really don't know how that happened. I hadn't been aware of how much I had been in love with the woman until I was separated from her. Then it was like the situation of the legendary boiling frog.

I had started the bonding process sitting in the cold water of her fucking Rinaldi. And then some celestial entity had kept turning the heat up. I could have jumped out of the pot at any point in time before I discovered how far into her I had gotten. But I never sensed the danger. And now my goose was thoroughly cooked - not to mix a metaphor.

I couldn't blame her for dumping me. She was the kind of woman who couldn't escape male attention. The aggressive ones hit on her constantly. And the passive ones just stared. So I was sure that she had found somebody new, even before my C-17 landed at Kandahar.

I'm a nerd. And nerds are not supposed to show emotion but the thought of her loss was simply devastating to me. So I went through the motions of being a good patient. I was the beneficiary of the most advanced medical science our Government could provide. But I was hoping that a miracle would occur. And I would die right there in the hospital.

Late that night it looked like my wish was about to be granted. Afghanistan is filthy. And I had picked up something from the explosive debris. That shit - and shit it might have been - caused a major infection. My temperature elevated and Rinaldi was called

I had been on Cephalexin but Rinaldi switched me to a Vancomycin drip. He said, "This should knock the fever down Old Chap. But if it doesn't we have other treatment options. Then he grinned mischievously and said, "Perhaps a little brandy?" Nurse Bitch gave him a stare that would have frozen ice.

After that I went a little bit nuts. I think the fever spiked at a hundred-and-six and then slowly began to recede. But I was still lying there like a limp, sweating dishrag when I heard a commotion out in the hall.

Nurse Bitch was loudly shouting, "You can't go in there Major. That patient is being held in isolation." They had no idea what I might have picked up so they were treating me like I was a leper.

I heard a commanding voice say something that sounded a lot like a superior officer dressing down a subordinate. Then I heard Nurse Bitch say submissively, "You can go in Sir. But you need to be aware of the patient's infectious state."

The voice was dismissive in return. I was thinking to myself, "You have a real sense of humor God!!" The last thing I wanted was to deal with some officious son-of-a-bitch who probably wanted to bust my chops for not ducking fast enough.

Then the door slowly opened. It was like the person opening it was afraid to come in. I thought, "That's an odd reaction. Why would a Major care about a lowly Captain?"

The door finally swung fully open. And an angel was framed in the blinding light of the hallway. Her beauty was more heaven than earth. It was like beholding the Archangel Raphael. And Heaven's mighty healing powers instantly restored my health.

Major Catherine Barkley was standing there in her BDUs and beret, looking like Lord Mountbatten himself. My spirit soared. She had come to save me and I knew that the future held nothing but peace and joy.

I probably looked like the living dead. But I mustered my most beatific smile and I said two heavily weighted words, "My love!!"

She dropped all pretense of military show, rushed to the bed and threw herself on my chest sobbing. Keep in mind that I had IV drips in both arms and I was wired for everything but streaming video. But I hugged her to me like I would fall off the earth if I ever let go.

She cried for a few minutes and I made comforting noises. Then she stood up and re-assembled herself into her persona as an officer. I tried to say something but she shushed me. And then she proceeded to carefully study every reading, record and automated test result associated with my case.

She turned to me with her eyes shining. She said with irony in her voice, "Looks like you'll make it after all Captain Henry." I saluted and said, "Thank you Major Sir. I thought you would never show up."

She looked hurt. I said, "What?!! I was joking!!"

She said, "Don't EVER joke about my absolute dedication to you. I love you with every drop of devotion in my soul. I want to be the best I can be for you. I want to please you in every way I can. I am yours forever. And I came the instant I got your message!!"

I'm a nerd. And nerds NEVER show emotion. But I started crying like a little baby girl. It was pure overwhelming relief and happiness. I probably sounded like Sally Field, "She loves me!! She really loves me!!" And it was fucking embarrassing.

Of course it set off every alarm in the entire array of sensors. Nurse Bitch came blustering into the room. She said rather preemptively, "What did I tell you Major!!? NOW you are going to have to leave!!"

Catherine figured it all out in an instant. She looked at the cunt like she was something she had just stepped in. I had forgotten about all of her years hanging around in the drawing rooms of the English nobility. My love had clearly learned THEIR lessons about haughtiness and condescension.

THAT version of Catherine said with a slightly curled lip and a pure Sandhurst accent, "That is no way to address a superior officer LEFTENANT and I will not allow it."

Then she said with steely command in her voice, "I am a fully licensed advanced trauma care nurse and I am taking personal responsibility for this patient."

She said with continuing emphasis, "Therefore, I am relieving you of your duty in this case. I will be staying in this room until he is discharged. And I will thank you to remember your place in the future."

Then she added like it was an afterthought, "In the meantime, fetch me a cup of tea if you please... You are DISMISSED!!"

Several emotions passed across Nurse Bitch's face. The first was blinding rage. She took a look at the gold Oak Leaves pinned on Catherine's collar and that emotion got locked away.

Then she got a look of cunning and said, "I am going to talk to the Commander of this facility. He might have a different idea about the rights of a British Army Nurse in an American hospital."

Catherine said blithely, "Please feel free. He was a friend of my former fiancé. And he was the one who invited me here in the first place. Now about that cup of tea LEFTENANT"

Game, set and match to Major Catherine Barkley.

She got her cup of tea. I urged her not to drink it since God only knew what Nurse Bitch had put in it. Catherine laughed delightedly and took a satisfied sip.

She said, "You have to learn to trust people, Frederic. Especially after they just placed the call that I warned Sir Walter about. I'm sure she doesn't want to run any further risk of delivering primary care to the inhabitants of Helmand Province."

I laughed. She laughed. And we spent the rest of the day holding hands and talking about our future together. Catherine never left my side for the entire time that I was in hospital. And she also proved to be the most competent nurse a soldier could ever ask for.

~

Several things happened after that. First and foremost, I got my Honorable Discharge. Both knees were metal now. And there was no way I was going to be useful in any capacity of service. They threw in the Silver Star as a sweetener. I let them do it but I didn't believe I deserved it.

The NSA was another matter entirely. They wanted to keep me around as a kind-of overall czar for their entire Afghanistan SIGINT system. I told them that I would think about it but I had some recuperating to do.

I also had to get rid of the damned walker. I was moving around like an octogenarian on two artificial knees. But I was getting better every day.

They reminded me that I had a contract. And they also mentioned what would happen to me if I broke it. My response was to tell them to fuck themselves, grab Catherine and disappear.

I have worked for them long enough to know ALL of their limitations. And I knew that their ability to monitor me was severely limited by politico-jurisdictional issues, not the least of which was the fact that I was in Europe. And neither Germany, or France was one of the 5-I's

They could reach over to where I was but they could also get their hand slapped if they got caught. So it was a matter of diminishing returns. They might have arrangements with GCHQ and carriers like BT and Vodafone. But it wasn't as easy for them to track one individual as it would be if they were in America dealing with companies like Verizon and Sprint.

Obviously they could pull my banking and credit transactions. But British banks like HSBC and Lloyds are not the same as Chase. So as long as I played financial small ball I was covered there. Plus, I had a full retirement-disability pay benefit, at the rank of Brevet Major. And Catherine had a substantial amount of money between her parent's trust and her not insignificant personal wealth.

I was discharged on a Wednesday. The separation process had taken a couple of weeks. And then one beautiful day in Late June I was a free man.

The weather was what you come to expect in Germany in the summer. It was overcast and the sun had disappeared. The temperature had dropped and it looked like it might rain. But the breeze down the mountains was pleasant and the smell of the pine trees was stimulating.

Catherine was driving the big Mercedes E Class that I had bought with my CRDP retroactive payment. I maneuvered my walker out to the passenger side, opened the door and dropped with a whoosh into the luxurious leather seat. I love the smell of a new car. And German engineering is second to none.

She was dressed in what Americans would call full-preppy. She had on a pair of fashionable khaki pants with the ubiquitous blue sweater with that yellow and red diamond pattern that all of the rich-bitch women wear as a symbol of their cultural station in life. The tasteful oxford cloth shirt and pearls cemented the image of a graceful and well-bred, upper class woman.

Because she was Catherine, she was wearing some kind of perfume that evoked images of wildly beating jungle drums, ecstatic naked dancers and debauched pagan rituals. I said, "That smells amazing, where did you get it?" She said, "I have it made in a little perfumery in Paris. It's designed to work specifically with my body chemistry."

Then she gave me her secret smile and one of her patented hot glances and said, "I was hoping that it would give you ideas."

IDEAS, Hell!! I was ready to rip off her clothes and fuck her right there in the circular drive of the hospital. Except I was pretty sure that would violate some kind of military regulation.

And besides, I wanted to consummate the relationship in someplace befitting the way I felt about her. That would come tonight.

We jumped on the A6 and proceeded along at an easy-going 120 miles an hour. The Mercedes could go a lot faster than that but Catherine was a careful driver. It was like sitting in my living room. Not a hint of road noise and rock solid stable.

Well before noon we crossed into France at Saarbrucken. We then proceeded along their A31 to where it becomes the A6 AutoRoute at Beaune.

That road is as perfect as any of the Autobahns, no matter what they say about French engineering. So we were able to average 120 all the way.

We were passing through Lyon at 1:00 PM. Then we picked up the A7 and rode it all the way down to Aix-en-Provence and the A8. We got there well before dinner. From there it was another couple of hours through the soft light and warm breezes of Provence, to the Hotel Royal-Riviera at the base of Cap-Ferrat.

Catherine had driven the whole way. I expected her to be as tired and wrinkled as I was. But she still looked as fresh as an English summer's day. I was in considerable pain from my knees. But I had something special planned. And I was going to do it before bedtime.

The Royal-Riviera was costing me a grand a night and it was worth every penny. First of all, Cap-Ferrat is probably the last spot on the French Riviera that is not infested with oil Sheiks, and flavor of the month pop stars.

Maybe it is the heavily wooded nature of that peninsula that keeps the glitterati at bay. Or perhaps it's the fact that it has always been the location where the real cultural stars of the last Century hung out; people like Elizabeth Taylor, David Niven and even Winston Churchill. At any rate there is no "touristy" vibe.

The Royal-Riviera is right on the Mediterranean at the eastern base of the Cap and the views from each of the balcony rooms are spectacular. Catherine ran to the French doors and threw them open. She went out on our balcony and leaned against the railing.

The view of the almost purple Mediterranean at this time of the evening was spectacular. The sun was setting in golds and reds and the sky was beginning to darken into a warm amber hue. I inched up behind her on my walker. Admittedly not dashing. But it was the best I could do.

She leaned back against me and said with touching sincerity, "This is heaven. I love you Frederic Henry." I put one arm around her shoulders. The other was holding me erect braced on the walker. I kissed her glorious mane of hair and said, "I love you too Catherine Barkley."

She turned inside my arm and said, "I thought my life had ended when my Anthony died. But God has given me somebody even better. I swear that I will never let you down and that I will cherish you forever."

It was just dusk. The smell of the Mediterranean world; the sea, the bounty of flora and the sounds of a city just waking up for the evening was washing over us. The quickening night sky was a deep shade of midnight blue and the panoply of stars were literally diamonds spread out on a black velvet display.

I had worked through a lot of pain to create this moment. So all-in, now!!

I took a deep breath to steady myself and said, "I have been lonely my whole life. Nobody has ever loved me and I have never needed, or wanted anybody else's love in return. That changed the moment I met you. You gave my life meaning and you are so precious to me that I don't know how I would be able to continue to live without you."

Then I hesitated. This was it. It was too much to hope for and I didn't know how to proceed. I was dithering as usual. So my steadfast lioness of a woman took the situation in hand. She said gently, "Frederic Henry, would you marry me?"

My mind exploded in a fireball of pure unadulterated love. I said, "As usual, you are the one with the strength and courage to do what I should have done. I dragged this little thing along with me just in case - waiting for the right time"

I added shamefaced, "Naturally you were the one who knew when that time was." And I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out the ring box.

I added, "Oh and by the way, would you marry me Catherine Barkley."

Her eyes misted as she opened the box. Inside was a five caret Columbian emerald engagement ring offset by two square cut three caret diamonds. It was huge. But I wanted the world to know that Catherine Barkley was mine.

It had cost me a fortune. The Columbian emeralds are expensive. But their pure green depth was a perfect match to the mesmerizing color of her eyes. And I could afford it. You don't spend much money during a career as an O-3 senior nerd. And I had banked a lot of Imminent Danger pay.

She slipped it reverently on her finger. She held it up and looked at it in the gathering dusk. The emerald sparkled like a savage green searchlight.

Then she threw her arms around my neck and collapsed against my chest weeping. She said with deep emotion, "I will be your wife. And I will make you proud. You will never regret marrying me."

Catherine was the only active participant in this romantic tableau. I was standing there holding onto my walker and trying not to fall over.

Then she reared back, arms still around my neck. She looked at me with the most intense fuck-me stare ever, including the one that I had witnessed with Rinaldi.

She said in a voice that was furry with lust, "Let me help you over to the bed. Trust me. I'm a trained trauma care nurse."

That was incredible!! Even as aroused as she was she could still make jokes. And she began to ease me to the bed, supporting me with my right arm thrown over her shoulder.

Bone pain is the worst pain of all. It erodes your soul. And I now had two metal appliances where my knee joints used to be. As Catherine carefully and lovingly undressed me I was thinking, "I can't do this".

I lay back on the pillows in that luxurious bed and waited, trying to suppress any thoughts of how much pain I was in. I was looking at her as she stood over me. She gave me a withering glance. It was so hot that the pain receded and was replaced by a rising sense of desire. Something else was rising as well.

Then she slowly shed her clothing. It was an incredibly erotic act. She stood for a second posed like Botticelli's Venus for my inspection. I had never actually seen Catherine fully nude. I had played with those perfectly formed breasts with their puffy pink nipples. But the fully nude version was beyond reckoning.

I had remarked about her riot of colors before. But the unclothed version of the woman was unspeakably beautiful. Her long copper hair hung down to the middle of her back in dense ringlets. Her emerald eyes seemed to glitter. Her full mouth was the deepest shade of red and that all contrasted with her silky, unblemished white skin.

Her breasts were full and broad with small, very erect and perfectly shaped bright pink nipples. She had a, short, neatly groomed wedge of copper hair at the juncture of her thighs. Then there were those long gleaming legs, which seemed to reach for miles up to her taut hips.

She turned for further inspection. And I ran my eyes down the smooth white expanse of her back, from her vulnerable woman's shoulders, past her exceptionally long waist, down to her well-developed hip structure.

I looked past her tiny nipped in middle to a pair of big round muscular buns. Her ass was so round and full that it looked like a pair of fresh melons had been cut in half and stuck on the back of her.

She turned to me and made a shushing gesture, like she knew that I was injured but she was in charge. And she was going to take careful care of me.

She arranged herself next to me, avoiding all of the surgical scars on my legs and gave old Lucifer a look like she was starving and he was the most succulent dinner she had ever enjoyed.

Then she very gently and carefully ministered to him with a level of attention that would have done Florence Nightingale proud.

I had not had sex in months and I warned her to be careful or I was going to do an imitation of Old Faithful any second. She smiled at me around her dinner. And then went right back to making me forget about anything but her talented lips.