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The Desert
Jeff heard the sound of trucks and a small plane as the afternoon wore on, but he saw no one. They would be counting on the beacon, he reasoned, and when they didn't pick it up, they'd hopefully believe he'd burned in the plane. Twice he heard the familiar roar of Air Force F-15's as they scanned for SCUD's. He thought of turning on the beacon, but just as he had his hand on the switch he heard the sound of triple-A fire, so he changed his mind. He would never have admitted it had he been asked, but Jeff Allen, ace pilot, was absolutely terrified! He couldn’t remember a time when he’d been so frightened, so close to absolute panic.
He had a lot of time to think as he sat in his shallow cave, waiting for darkness. His mind was on Steve, wondering why the doctor had kept him in the hospital. Steve had shown him his damaged genitals, and it was not a pretty sight. “The doctor said I’d probably be ok if I’d been wearing boxers,” Steve had said. “I was wearing briefs, and the oil soaked into the material and just sat there against my skin, burning and poisoning.”
Steve’s entire mid section, including his groin and buttocks, were like raw hamburger. Most of the skin was healing nicely, but his penis and scrotum seemed not to be responding to treatment at all. “That’s because that area is so much more sensitive,” Steve explained. It didn’t hurt any more, he told his buddy, but the doctor had said that wasn’t necessarily a good sign. He had told his young patient that the nerves might be permanently damaged, and if so he might not be able to perform sexually even if the parts could be saved.
He thought about his friend, going through life never having a sexual experience. Jeff thought that would be the worst fate in the universe, based on the experiences he’d had over the past few days. He was suddenly overcome with guilt, remembering how he had romped about the sack with Becky, having the time of his life, while Steve had to be content with walking, talking, dancing with his date. He had to make it up to his friend somehow, and as he thought about it he made an important decision. He shuddered when he thought of Steve in the hospital, more than likely being told at this very moment that he was going to have to be nullified. Maybe, Jeff thought as he cringed, it had already been done. Again he tried to make a telepathic connection with Steve, but he could not be sure if the thoughts he received as a result came from Steve or from his own worried mind.
Jeff knew he was in a lot of trouble and should be using all his wits to keep from being detected or captured by the enemy; but as hard as he tried he could not get his mind off Steve. Then finally the telepathy was there. The voice in his mind was so loud and clear and sudden, Jeff nearly jumped out of his skin. He opened his mouth to emit a startled scream, but fortunately stifled it. “I’m ok, buddy,” the voice said. “You’re in a lot more trouble than I am right now. You need to concentrate on getting your ass out of there. I want you to come home in one piece, Jeff!”
Jeff still couldn’t completely forget Steve’s dilemma, or his own decision; but that one short message from his friend reassured him and helped him to concentrate on the task at hand: to somehow get to a place where he could be found and picked up.
When night fell Jeff made his way to the rim of the trench and started walking south. He didn't want to go too far, but on the other hand, if there were Iraqi's close at hand he wouldn't be able to use the beacon for fear of being captured, so he decided it would be more prudent to find out just how much company he had. He kept listening for helicopters, but none were forthcoming.
When it was really dark, things came alive to Jeff’s utter astonishment. He almost stumbled right into an Iraqi guard as he strolled along the rim of the canyon. The sentry was evidently not expecting someone to walk up on him, else he'd have seen the American intruder for sure. Instead, he was intent on watching a radar screen, which was obviously monitoring the skies for approaching aircraft. Jeff hit the dirt and watched him, looking to see if he had any companions close by. He seemed to be alone, but he was talking constantly on a headset he was wearing, probably to some sort of control center. Not wanting to cause any kind of a stir just yet, Jeff skirted around him and continued south; but noises coming from the canyon drew him back to it. What he saw made his heart sink.
As he reached the edge of the trench on his belly and peered over cautiously, he saw about ten men working around a large machine. Probably a SCUD mobile launcher, he thought. They were working in almost total darkness, preparing the machine for some kind of action. As he watched in total fascination, a huge door opened in the bank of the trench and two trucks drove out. Jeff could see light inside the door; there seemed to be a small underground city inside that cave. Now he knew, He had to get back to a friendly base with the news. Now he also knew why he'd had all that ground slugging in boot camp. At the time Jeff, along with all his comrades, had grumbled endlessly, whining about how they were sailors, not foot soldiers; so why did they have to learn all about hand to hand combat, sneaking around undetected, and overcoming obstacles? But here he was, in a nest of enemy soldiers, with nary a plane or ship, or even water, so be seen! He was on the ground, out of his element, so to speak, but thanks to a very abusive Marine drill sergeant he wasn't totally unprepared. But what could he do? He had only his small handgun for armament, while the men in the trench probably had machine guns of every description at their disposal.
As he wriggled back from the rim, planning to keep sneaking south, the young aviator saw a lone soldier walking straight for him. He was carrying a rifle, and Jeff thought sure he must've seen him, so he prepared to fight, reasoning that he would probably be dead in a few minutes; but he wasn't going alone. But the man walked right past the tremulous young man, his feet no more than six feet from Jeff’s head. Now he had his answer as to where he was going to get a weapon. Not wanting to make any noise and cause an alarm, he scrambled to his feet and approached his quarry from behind. The man was taken completely off guard when Jeff hit him full in the back with his elbow, knocking the weapon to the ground with his other hand. The surprise and pain of the blow, as they say, ruined that man’s whole day. Jeff had never considered himself what one might call even a passable fighter, yet here he was in the middle of a desert, squaring off against a man half again as heavy as he was, with a tablecloth on his head. For the second time in ten minutes, Jeff breathed a prayer of thanks for one tough drill sergeant.
The fight didn't last long. Jeff had learned in boot camp to use his small size to advantage, and he had learned to fight dirty. “Forget all that stuff you learned growing up about what’s acceptable in a fight and what’s not,” the sergeant had lectured. “The only thing important when you’re facing the enemy of your country is which one of you is left standing. When you’re looking your enemy in the eye, keep in mind that he’ll kill you if you don’t kill him first.”
The first time the Arab lunged at him, Jeff hit the ground and grabbed his ankles, bringing him down almost on top of himself. Before the sentry could gather his composure and yell a warning Jeff was on him, grabbed his head with both hands, and twisted in a jerking motion as hard as he could. He heard the crack of breaking bones and the body under him went limp, his neck broken. Jeff had just killed a man with his bare hands!
He didn't have time to think about it though, because he figured this guy was likely going to relieve the radar sentry and would soon be missed. So he took the weapon, an automatic rifle of a type Jeff had never seen; but he found the trigger and he knew that's all he had to know. He also took some ammunition and a knife he found on the body, put the head dress on his own head with disgust, rolled the body to the brink of the trench and over the edge, then took his leave. "Thanks, Jack," he whispered over his shoulder. He wanted to attack the group in the trench, but with that mini-city inside the cave, he wasn't at all thrilled with the odds; so once again he skirted the action and continued south, walking as fast as he dared without being detected.
Three or four miles further south, he came upon a similar action; but this time the installation was much smaller. There was the same SCUD launcher, about five men and two trucks, one of which had a generator of some sort running in the back. Now this is more to my liking, he thought to himself. He watched the activity for a few minutes to make sure he knew where all the men were, then when he thought they'd least expect it, he clambered down the steep slope, got behind a mound, and prepared to kill again. Jeff knew he didn’t have to be too careful about making noise because the generator was making enough racket to provide adequate cover.
As if knowing someone was there and wanted to kill them, the five men grouped together for some sort of a discussion. Jeff had seen no sign of a radio or sentry, so he stood up and opened fire. It was so easy it was frightening. In just a few seconds he had snuffed out five more lives, and still he didn't really think about it. It was a job that had to be done, and given his own resources he couldn't possibly have done it; but with his adrenal glands working overtime it was mechanical.
Jeff left the SCUD launcher hopelessly trashed, and without a lot of noise in the process. He had found some grenades, and had dropped two into the workings of the device, then put a bullet into the radiators of the trucks. He looked for a radio but found none; so he contented myself with a fresh load of ammunition, some grenades, and a canteen of water he found. He had no idea how long it would be before these guys would be missed, and right then he didn't care as long as he was far away when they were found. He figured he had thirty miles or so to go, and he knew he'd never make it before daylight; so he might as well have some fun on the way. He considered looking for a jeep he could steal, but he still hadn’t figured out how they were getting in and out of that trench.
A few miles further down the trench Jeff encountered another launcher. There were only four men this time, so he dispatched them in the same way. Wow, he thought in his exhilaration, This is just like shooting fish in a barrel! But he knew it would get harder as he went along. And tomorrow night, if he lived that long, would be even more difficult because by then the Iraqi's were sure to know that they had an unwelcome visitor. Within a few miles he came upon another launcher, this time with ten or more men milling about. He watched them long enough to know he'd never get them all without some return fire, so he passed them by. He knew he absolutely had to kill everyone who saw him so they wouldn't know he was alone. That way maybe, just maybe, he'd get away with his little game until he found some friendly forces.
When the first traces of light began showing in the east, Jeff again holed up in the trench. But by ten o'clock he knew he wasn't going to sleep, so he started warily stealing along the trench. He was hopelessly curious why they hadn’t spotted all this activity from the air. By three o'clock, he found his answer. He walked up on another SCUD launcher, so well hidden that if anyone had been around, he'd have stumbled right into their waiting arms. It was tucked into sort of an overhang, covered with camouflage, canvas and even dirt, and almost invisible until you were close and staring right at it. And there was absolutely no one around. He walked past it about a mile to be sure he was alone, then back and again trashed the launcher with a grenade. He couldn't believe how easy this was, but he knew things would have to heat up pretty soon. Another four miles, and another abandoned SCUD became scrap metal; then it was dark again, and Jeff could walk a little more easily.
Jeff’s progress on the second night wasn't quite so quick. There were patrols on the ridge now; probably because of Jeff’s efforts, and also he thought he must be approaching the Saudi border. He found another launcher, but again the population was a little too large to his liking, so he passed it by. Perhaps Jeff had been a little too lucky, it had been too easy, because he started getting careless. Four or five miles further along the trench there was a sentry sitting on the ground, likely daydreaming about life in Baghdad or some similar place, maybe even sleeping. Jeff actually tripped over the man’s leg and fell headlong into the sand. They were both too shocked to clearly think about what they were doing or what had happened. Fortunately before the startled Iraqi could gather his wits, had come to realize that the person who had just fallen over him was not a friend. Jeff had pulled out his pistol and shot a large hole in his head. For a moment there was complete silence, then Jeff heard the dead man’s buddies yelling at their fallen comrade in some foreign language. Not having anything else to hide behind, Jeff huddled behind his dead friend and waited.
The Iraqi's from below didn't disappoint their young intruder as they came bounding over the crest of the trench, guns at the ready, spread out so Jeff couldn't possibly get all six of them without risking giving away his position. They stopped and looked around, then spotted the body of their dead companion. All saw it at once, and all headed for it. Jeff knew it would be only seconds before they saw him too, so he took advantage of those precious seconds and rose to a kneeling position and cut loose. Three went down, and three more hit the dirt with their own guns riddling the already dead body that Jeff was using as a shield. He fell flat on his face and waited for the firing to subside, then cautiously stole a glance. When the fire from Jeff’s gun stopped and didn't resume, they must've thought they'd hit him because they warily stood up again. He very carefully and slowly brought his stolen gun to a ready position, waited until he thought his attackers were starting to relax; then he was back on his knees, and the other three went down.
Just when he thought he was out of the woods and was beginning to relax, a truck loaded with soldiers came roaring down the bottom of the trench. No problem, he thought, they were all clustered together in the back of the truck, so he opened fire on them too. The truck veered sharply to the left then turned over, dumping those that were still alive all over the bottom of the trench. There was no return fire at all, but Jeff knew the chances of having got them all were pretty slim, so he lobbed two grenades at them, then blazed away until the gun was empty, then started running south again. Rather than reload, he simply threw the gun down and grabbed one off a dead body on the way by. Time to retire, he said to himself, and concentrate on getting home.
Jeff encountered two more patrols of three men each. He killed all three of the first, then hid from the second because there was another large installation only a few hundred yards away. There was every type of fighting equipment imaginable in that trench. There were SCUD's and tanks, jeeps and trucks, halftracks and triple-A's; and all had disappeared as if my magic in the daylight. Jeff was starting to feel the strain now; he had neither eaten nor slept since his plane went down, and three days of very taught nerves was starting to take its toll. He knew he had to get back to the ship, or some sort of friendly site, to let them know what was going on. All they had to do was wait till after dark when the soldiers appeared, then use infrared sensors in just about any armed plane to take them out. But they didn’t know that, and Jeff was determined to get the word to them. But first he had to get his tail to an area where he could be picked up.
As the fifth night was drawing to a close, the sun just about to peek over the horizon, Jeff started seeing visions: First Becky, then Steve, then Mike, back to Steve, then the cockpit of his beloved F-14 that was now a mere cinder on the desert floor. His mind kept coming back to the two people he loved more than any other in the world: his best friend Steve, lying in a small Canadian field hospital in Bahrain, and... and, he realized with something of a surprise, his brother Mike! Not Becky, not his mother or Captain Adams, his brother Mike!
Jeff had been quite concerned about his little brother during the past year or so since he’d been home. Mike had written regularly, they had spoken on the phone often until Jeff had left for the Persian Gulf. What Mike had told him had been, at the very least, disturbing. The boys’ mother, always devoted to her sons while Jeff was growing up, had met a man and in a very short time agreed to have him move in with her. This man was, according to Mike, rough and abusive to both Mike and his mother, and to Jeff’s utter surprise, their mother seemed to be tolerating his abuse, even siding with her boy friend against her son.
Jeff had spoken to Mike just a week ago from the ship. He had called his mom, but Mike had answered and said that his mother was out as usual. “Things have really gone to hell here, Jeff,” he had said. The distress was obvious in his voice. “Mike, it can’t be that bad,” Jeff had protested. “Mom’s not like that.” “You don’t know, Jeff,” Mike had said. The tone in his voice had been something that Jeff had never heard before from his own brother. “If it weren’t for you, I don’t know if I could hold out much longer. But I wanna go to the Naval Academy so bad, and I know I can’t if I don’t graduate with good grades. But even so, I just don’t know how much longer I can hold on.” “You’ve got to hang in there, Mike,” Jeff had said. “I won’t be over here forever, and as soon as I can I’ll be home. Then we’ll see. In the meantime just hang in there!”
Mike had assured his brother he was certainly going to try, but he just didn’t know. “If it gets too bad, go see Mr. Price,” Jeff had advised. He knew that Steve’s parents would take him in, and he assured his brother that he would pay any expenses the Price’s incurred as a result of their new addition. “Just let me know,” Jeff had instructed. “I’ll tell Steve to let his parents know you might be showing up.” Of course he had never told Steve because only hours later Steve had got shot down. He was pretty sure the Price’s would take him in anyway, but still it would have been better if they’d had some warning.
His thoughts turned to Becky and his three days liberty with her in Africa. He realized with some amusement he didn’t even know what country they’d been in, only that it was a place friendly to the US and without all the very restrictive laws concerning females that seem to exist in all the Arab nations, both friendly and unfriendly. He remembered how incredibly soft and smooth her body was; how excruciatingly delicious her touch. And when they had first made love, the feelings had sent the young pilot into a zone of sensations he had never known existed.
And then he thought of Steve again.
He felt tears welling up when he realized that if Steve lost his genitals, he would never experience the sensations, never realize how incredibly intense and alive one could feel when having an orgasm while deeply penetrating another human being. He thought how very unfair life had been to an individual who, at least in Jeff’s mind, had done no wrong, had never harmed anyone, and had certainly done nothing to deserve the fate that now, it seemed, was a part of his future. And right now, as the young Tomcat ace stumbled across the desert, he found himself fighting tears - tears of regret that he and Steve had never consummated their love. He could have given his friend some of those feelings, a part of that experience, many times, but they never had. “I’ll be a eunuch,” Steve had said, as if it were nothing.
“A eunuch,” the words echoed in Jeff’s mind...
A EUNUCH!!
He tried to make a telepathic connection as he stumbled along the desert. He wanted to know, HAD to know, how Steve was doing. Suddenly being with Steve, knowing that he was all right, was the most important thing in the young flyer’s consciousness. He vowed that he would make it up to his friend, Navy or no Navy. IF he got out of this mess, and IF Steve’s genitals were still intact, IF Steve wanted to, they would make love as soon as they were together again.
IF.
Those were a lot of IF’s, but Jeff’s mind was made up. Still he shuddered as he formed a picture in his mind of his best friend with nothing between his legs. A EUNUCH! The image simply did not compute. He tried to imagine the anguish Steve would feel, knowing he would never experience sexual release. There was so much Jeff didn’t understand. He realized, albeit somewhat vaguely, that castrating young men and boys had been a somewhat common practice in some ancient cultures. Would Steve’s baritone voice return to the soprano of a little boy? Would his body shrink? Would he still want to be friends with Jeff? Would the Navy still want him? Would he want the Navy? Would he even want to live?
Jeff had learned in school that farm animals and pets were castrated routinely, but he wasn’t sure why. Sure, dogs and cats were neutered so they couldn’t reproduce, and it was commonly believed that they made better pets. He had been told that beef cattle were castrated so they would gain weight faster and the meat would be better. Better in what way? Was the taste better? Were they even edible if they died with their balls still in place? There were so many questions to which he had no answers, had never cared before. But now these questions were foremost in his mind, even more important that getting out of his current situation.
SURVIVAL!
It was his job to survive! It was his duty! But even more important, if he didn’t survive he would never know if his friend was still an intact male; and whether or not Steve had lost his genitals, Jeff had a duty there too. If Steve had not lost his parts Jeff’s duty, as he saw it, was to help his friend to experience what Jeff had experienced only a few days ago. Suddenly Jeff was shocked to realize that he wanted to be the one to lead Steve down the road of sexual experience. He realized now, as much as he had fought it, that he wanted to be Steve’s first sex partner as much as he had ever wanted anything!
Then there was the possibility that Steve would become a eunuch. In that case Jeff’s responsibility, his DUTY, was even more important, even more startling. If the unthinkable were to happen, Jeff would ease the pain somehow. He didn’t know how, but he would do what he had to do, whatever that might be. But first he had to get out of here.
Jeff was having all he could do to walk now, let alone do it stealthily. He fought desperately to keep his mind focused, to deal with the problem at hand and not the other things spinning in his head. He was being only partly successful and he knew it. He knew his judgment, his cunning and stealth, were greatly impeded now; but he had to concentrate. He HAD to!
The huge trench had ended, and he was wondering what he was going to do when daylight came with nowhere to hide when he encountered a huge gun pointing skyward. It was too big to be a triple-A, so Jeff deduced it must be heavy artillery of some sort. Next problem: How would he take it out or go around it without being seen? Facing a new dilemma, Jeff’s weary mind snapped back into focus; at least he thought it had.
He was just deciding he'd give the gun a wide birth and bypass it when he felt something hard poke into his back, and a voice said something in an Arabic dialect. Without thinking, Jeff dropped to the ground and tried to trip his would-be captor with his feet, but his body just wasn't willing to make any more sudden moves, or the man was too quick, or both. As he turned his head and rolled onto his back he found himself looking straight into the muzzle of a very angry looking rifle. Following the barrel of the rifle with his eyes, Jeff saw the face of the man behind the gun: a very angry, bearded, stern face capped with a turban, and he knew it was all over. The man was standing far enough that Jeff couldn’t reach him, either with his hands or his feet. He would never get back to report now; he would never help his brother to resolve his problems; he would never get to make it all right for Steve, to ease the pain he knew his friend must be going through. He would never even get to say good-bye. He closed his eyes and waited for the end.
Jeff wasn’t particularly afraid to die, but he hadn’t planned it so soon and he certainly hadn’t wanted it to be on the ground, on his back, in a very alien part of the world. But he knew he’d done his duty to the best of his ability. Even though he knew he hadn’t completed his mission, he knew he’d done his very best, and he was at peace. Perhaps it was best this way; maybe his untimely death would serve some higher purpose that he didn’t know about.
He didn't hear the shot, didn’t feel the bullet bore into his brain; but the darkness enshrouded him like a cloak as his mind shut down.
To be continued...
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