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 A World of My Choosing   An Out-of-this-World Story by Gil Gamesh   Chapter
One   Tonight she was sitting at a table by herself.  As usual, she had on
a baseball cap with her hair pulled back on the sides, cascading out from
the back of the cap in curls and tangles.  She was looking down at her mess
tray and seemed to be studying something.  I decided to take a chance.

   "Hello, Anna.  May I sit with you?"

   I felt like a schoolboy: trying to impress a girl he liked, wanting to
get to know her, but fearing her rejection.  She looked up at me and
smiled. The tension in my body relaxed a little.

   For weeks I had been trying to find the courage to speak to her.  I
first saw her almost a month ago, going through the mess line ahead of me.
As tall as she was she stood out in the group of women who seemed to be
helping her to get acquainted with the mess hall.  That first time, she
turned, looked directly at me for a brief instant, and I saw her face.  She
smiled, perhaps at me, perhaps at something else.  I was struck by her
beauty and her smile and, for the rest of that day, her face kept haunting
me.

   "Yes, David.  Please do.  I'd be glad to have your company," she said.

   I put my food tray on the table, sat down, and held out my hand to her.
She looked at me quizzically.

   "We haven't been formally introduced," I said.  "I'm Lieutenant David
Blunderbuss."

   She put her hand in mine for a few seconds.  It was soft and warm and
dry.  Mine was warm but callused and probably sweaty.  The touch of her
hand caused my heart to beat faster.

   "And I'm Lieutenant Anna Conda," she replied, smiling at me again.

   I knew her name and I'm sure she knew mine.  When we first came to the
super-secret training base in the high desert of Arizona, we had been
instructed to use our real first name, to make up a last name, and never to
reveal our real last name.  I didn't know the last name of any of the other
trainees.  We all understood why.  Captured soldiers can't be tortured to
reveal what they don't know.  Since my skills with a rifle had got me into
sniper training, I thought mine was a fun name.  From what I had heard
about Anna, hers was too.  With her looks and dark eyes, she could probably
encoil any of the men she met.  However, her reputation was that she was
cold and aloof and didn't like men.

   "Your name doesn't fit you," I said.

   "Neither does yours," she answered.  "I hear you're really cool and
always hit your target.  Am I your target for tonight?"

   "I hear you're almost unapproachable," I countered.  "A lot of the guys
think you don't like men."

   She frowned at that.

   "Ca me fait chier," she whispered, and then repeated it in English in
case I didn't understand French.  "That pisses me off."

   "Well, it makes me angry when you think I'm just hitting on you," I
said. "The simple truth is: I want to talk with you, Anna.  That's all."

   I felt a touch of panic at my stupidity.  For weeks I had been stealing
glances at her whenever I saw her in the mess hall.  I was drawn to her and
I had no clear idea what I wanted.  Like any man, I suppose there was an
element of sexual attraction but I knew there was more than that.  What was
it I wanted from her?  I really didn't know but something kept telling me
that she was the one I had been looking for and that I'd be a fool if I
didn't try to get to know her.  I'd never before felt drawn to a woman with
such certainty that she and I were meant to be together.

   Suddenly her frown turned into a faint smile and I relaxed a little. 
She looked at me appraisingly.  I waited.

   "Could we start over?" she asked, smiling again.

   "Yes, please," I answered, smiling back.

   "I'll talk with you, David," she said, "but I'm starving.  Could we eat
first and talk later?"

   Tuesday night's dinner was Tex-Mex.  It was popular with all of us but
some of the guys complained because they weren't allowed to have cold beer
with it.  Since alcohol in any form was forbidden where we were going, we
were supposed to get used to doing without it.  I had sworn off drinking
anything alcoholic anyway so it was no sacrifice for me.

   We watched each other without a word while we ate.  She reached over
once, wiped something off my mustache with her napkin, and smiled at me
again.  I was pleasantly surprised.  Perhaps I really would be able to talk
with her.

   "Yours is a new approach," she said when we were finished.  "Is that
really the truth, that all you want to do is talk with me?"

   "Is that so hard to believe?" I asked.

   "Yes, it is.  I'm been the target of too many men here, David.  I know
what they want and they're not going to get it from me," she said.

   "I'm not like most men here, Anna," I said.

   "I suppose not.  You have a reputation for being rather aloof and
untalkative," she said.  "Even when you're with a group, you don't have
much to say.  Why do you want to talk with me?"

   Why did I want to talk with her?  I needed to talk to someone about my
life and I knew that my time at the base was limited.  Why her?  I had no
idea why except that I thought about her every day and every night,
especially during the night when I had nothing to do but think.  Every time
I thought of her, there was an uncanny feeling that we belonged together.

   "Anna, I need to talk to somebody before I go to...wherever they assign
me.  If I can open up to you, will you promise to keep everything to
yourself?  I need...I just need to talk."

   That was our beginning.  Over the next few weeks, we gradually came to
know each other and talking with her became easier.  It was the one thing I
looked forward to most, even more than the excellent dinners they fed the
trainees.  We tried to coordinate our arrival at the mess hall each night
at the same time.  We never had to wait very long for each other.

   One night we started talking about the war, the undeclared war with
millions of enemies but no enemy country.  She had no experience in
fighting and killing.  I had much more than I wanted.  She asked me how I
felt about what I had done and what I might be assigned to do.

   "This is not a world of my choosing, Anna," I said.  "I wish I could
change it into a world where people are peaceful and loving and they don't
kill each other in stupid religious wars.  I can't.  I'm just trying to do
something to make this world a little better.  I wish I could do it without
killing but I know we're fighting against something evil that is hell-bent
on killing us.  I don't like what I do."

   "I know, David," she said.  "I don't want to do what they're training me
for, either.  I've never killed anybody but I will do it.  If they send
me..." she paused for a moment, "out, on a mission, wherever, I'll do it.
What's it like?"

   I didn't really know what they were training her for.  We weren't
supposed to talk about it.  It was common knowledge I was in sniper
training.  I was pretty sure she didn't know how special the training for
me was.

   I sat and looked at my mess tray.  They had fed us prime rib and it had
been perfect: tender and juicy and pink in the middle.  I found another
bite of lean and forked it to my mouth.

   "It's not as difficult as you might think," I said, when I'd finished
chewing.  "Every time I've done it, I was either on an assigned mission or
protecting the lives of the men under my command.  I try not to look at the
bad guys when they're dead.  Never look at the face of a dead man, Anna,
especially one you've killed."

   She sat at the mess table across from me and looked at my face.  "That
sounds so cold and heartless.  Are you really like that?"

   "It's good advice, Anna," I said.  "And I am not cold and heartless. 
When you get to know me, you'll understand me and you'll know what sort of
man I am."

   "Did you really do what they say you did?  I mean when they found out
what you could do with a rifle and how you could stay in control of a bad
situation?"

   "I suppose.  There's a lot of talk about me.  Some of it's true."

   "All of the guys here have a lot of respect for you, you know.  They're
in awe of you.  They think you're some kind of superman.  They call you The
Warrior."

   "Anna, I'm not a superman.  I suppose I am a warrior but I'm just an
ordinary man with some unusual talents."

   "Everybody says you are really cool in a crisis.  What does that mean?"

   "Could we take a walk again?" I asked.  "I don't want to talk about it
here."

   "Where?"

   "Perhaps we could go out toward that arroyo north of the base.  The dirt
road's a little rough but that area's not off limits.  The moon's out
enough so we can see.  We could walk a couple of miles and then come back."

   "I'll have to put on my boots again.  Can we go by my quarters first?"

   I twisted around and looked under the table.  She had on white sneakers
and white socks.  I couldn't believe it.  In the pervasive dust, how could
she walk from her quarters to the mess hall and keep her sneakers white
like that?  She had very nice long legs, very beautiful legs.  Her khaki
shorts, the same thing we all wore in the evening, looked clean and fresh.

   For the month or so before we became friends, I delighted in watching
her.  Every morning and night I looked for her in the mess hall.  She was
always dressed the same, khaki shorts with some sort of shirt, often a
loose over-size man's shirt.  Her legs, long and slender and beautiful,
captivated me.  I never tired of looking at them but I tried not to be
caught at it.  Every time I saw her, she had on a baseball cap with her
hair pulled back on the sides, tumbling down below her shoulders in back. I
loved to watch her as she talked to the women with whom she usually ate. 
Her hair, dark, curly, seemingly alive, was constantly in motion behind
her. She fascinated me.

   "Sure.  You'd better piddle too.  If you have to do it out there, a
rattlesnake might bite you on the butt.  We'd have a hard time explaining
that."

   "Do I need to get a light jacket" she asked.  "It's hard to believe it
can be over a hundred at mid-afternoon and down in the fifties before
daylight."

   "I don't think so.  We can time it: an hour out and an hour back.  You
won't get cold.  We should be back about ten o'clock.  I've got a couple of
small flashlights."

   I waited on the steps to her barracks while she went inside for a few
minutes.  I could hear women laughing and giggling somewhere inside.  A
loud burst of laughter poured out once and I wondered what could have
caused it.  The window near the door was open and the room was dark.  I
could see through the screen to a small TV tuned to a game show.

   When she came out again, we didn't talk until we were away from the
lights.  The road, if it could be called that, led from the barracks area
to a scenic spot on the arroyo.  I gave her one of the flashlights but we
didn't really need them as long as we followed the road.

   "Why were the women in the barracks laughing so much?" I asked.

   "Do you really want to know?  It was just silly girl stuff, like
teen-age girls.  We have to be silly sometimes after what we do and study
during the day."

   "I understand.  Tell me."

   "They've played a new variation of their favorite game.  I suppose it's
funny."

   "What is it?"

   "They told some guy that they've taken a vote and he won."

   "Well, what's the vote about?  How does he win?"

   "You won this time.  You got more votes than the next two runners-up
combined."

   "What?"

   "They decided you've got the most beautiful penis.  They said it's
uncircumcised, perfectly straight, and just the right size, almost eight
inches."

   I looked at her.  In the moonlight I could see a little smile around her
lips.  I knew she was teasing me.

   "It's smaller than average," I lied, and continued truthfully.  "I'm not
circumcised.  It's not straight.  When it's erect, it's got a little curve.
Not to the side.  Just a little curve up."

   She laughed quietly.  "Does it really?  May I see it?"

   "No, at least not yet.  Why is it funny?"

   "Because all the girls pick out a different guy and tell him he won. 
Usually it's no time at all before he finds out another guy won too.  Then
they ask a few more guys and they find out they all won."

   "Lieutenant Conda, that's a cruel joke."

   "I'm glad you like it, Lieutenant Blunderbuss."

   We walked on a little farther, side by side, holding hands, occasionally
bumping each other.  I suppose we were both wrapped up in our own thoughts.
I was.

   I was thinking about what I wanted with her.  I liked to be with her and
when I wasn't it seemed that I was usually thinking about her.  I wanted
her sexually but I wanted her for so much more.  If it were not for my
impending mission, I would surrender to her and being with her and maybe
start learning to love her.  I just couldn't see how it was the right thing
to do, to lead her into any sort of relationship that could never develop
into...into what?  What did I want with her?  I couldn't make up my mind.

   "Why did you look under the table, David?" she asked.

   "To look at your legs, of course," I said.  "Your have beautiful legs,
Anna.  You're a beautiful woman."

   "My legs are all hairy and I hate it.  I can't shave anywhere, not even
under my arms."

   "Their women aren't permitted to shave anywhere.  You may have to pass
for one of them.  Why do you think I've got this silly mustache?"

   "So you'll look like one of their women," she answered and then giggled.

   "Be serious," I said.

   "I like your mustache.  It looks good on you.  You're a very handsome
man, David."

   "I thought you just liked me because I'm one of the few men around here
you can look up to," I said.

   She was probably close to six feet tall in her bare feet.  I was well
over six feet.  I was one of the few men at the base taller than her.

   "Well, that certainly helps.  How tall are you?" she asked.

   "About two meters.  Six feet six."

   "I'm five eleven.  That keeps most of the shorter guys away.  What do
you weigh?"

   "One ninety-five.  And you?"

   "One forty-five.  Am I too fat, David?

   "No, Anna, you're a woman.  You're not a girl.  You're a woman with a
woman's body.  You're perfect the way you are.

   "Yeah, I'm a big tall woman who intimidates the hell out of most of the
men she meets," she answered.  "Do I intimidate you?"

   "No," I said and decided to change the subject.  "Anna, do you ever look
up at the stars?  Do you know there are billions of galaxies and we're on a
planet circling around one little obscure star in our galaxy?"

   We were well beyond the few lights of the base and the stars were
brilliant in the dry high-desert air.  The moon, about half full, obscured
some of the stars in its vicinity.  The rest of the sky was full of
sparkling diamonds.  We stood there for a minute looking up.

   When I put my arm around her shoulders, she put hers around my waist. 
When I turned, facing her, and pulled her against me, she didn't resist. 
She tucked her head under my chin and her cheek against my throat.  We
stood there holding each other for a few minutes.  I felt a sense of peace
and contentment.  I felt I was where I belonged.  I wondered what she felt.

   Maybe that was what I wanted with her, peace and contentment.  Standing
there under the night desert sky with her in my arms, I didn't want to let
her go.  I could feel her breasts against my chest but it wasn't sexually
arousing, just warm and comforting.  She pulled herself tighter against me
and moved her head from side to side.  What did she mean by that?  I wanted
to pull her into me or me into her and it didn't matter which.  Was that
what she wanted?

   The night was full of the noise of a thousand desert creatures.  Some
coyotes a long way off were serenading the moon.  Close by, there was a
strange noise, something moving for a few seconds, then standing still for
a few more seconds, and then repeating.  I turned to look where the noise
was.  For a minute or so, I listened but couldn't see anything.  I wasn't
afraid of the noise, just cautious and a little bit curious.  I decided to
try to be cool, to see if that would help.

   It did.  My hearing was suddenly enhanced so that I was able to home in
on the sound.  Then I saw it, a coyote, no, a fox; it was smaller, jumping
around.  It seemed to be playing with something on the ground.  I tried to
focus my eyes but all I could see was the fat rounded shape of something,
maybe a Gila monster.

   "What's making that noise, David?" she asked.

   "It's a fox, playing with a Gila monster.  I don't know whether it's
just playing with it or maybe trying to make a meal of it.  I don't know
what these desert foxes eat, do you?"

   "You can really see it?" she asked.

   "Yes, I can see the shape of it and the flashes of its eyes.  I'm pretty
sure it's a fox.  I'm not sure what it's playing with but it's something
sort of fat and rounded, like a Gila monster.  It hasn't moved."

   "Are you cool, David?"

   "Yes, just a little.  Why?"

   "I can't see a thing.  I can hear it but I can't see it."

   "The fox is pouncing, probably just out of reach of the lizard, and then
jumping back.  It stands still for a moment and then pounces again.  I just
saw the lizard move its head.  It is a Gila monster.  I think the fox is
just playing with it."

   "You scare me, David.  I think I'm looking at the same place as you and
I can't see anything, not even movement.  May I turn on my flashlight?"

   "The fox will be gone before your eyes can focus.  Let's not disturb
it." I took her hand and we started walking again.  "You asked me what it
means when I'm cool.  Would you like me to tell you now?"

   "Yes, please."

   "It's some sort of altered state of consciousness, I suppose.  I really
can't control it very much," I lied.  "I usually can't voluntarily become
really cool.  Something must trigger it, some sort of situation demanding
me to become cool, like when my life or the life of someone else is at
risk. It just comes over me then.  It's like time stands still and all my
senses are greatly enhanced."

   "But you can't control it?  You just did it."

   "I've learned to do it just a little when I want to.  But not like the
way it is when someone's life is in danger.  Then it's much more intense."

   "If you saw me about to step on a rattlesnake, do you think it would
happen?"

   "I hope so.  I wouldn't want anything to happen to you."

   I wanted to tell her the complete truth but I knew that would be
unbelievable and I wanted her to believe me.  I was slowly learning to
control being cool.  I knew that time didn't really stand still. 
Rationally, I knew that my perception of an event accelerated and what I
perceived seemed to slow down while my ability to react seemed normal to me
but, in reality, was greatly accelerated.  Seemingly, the world was moving
in slow motion and I was moving at normal speed.

   "It sounds like the sort of adrenaline rush we get when we're afraid of
something," she said.  "I think it's called the fight or flight response."

   "I suppose it is like that," I said.  "But it's really extreme with me.
They tested me and said they'd never seen anything like it."

   I had been very careful in what I revealed to the doctors in all the
tests.  I knew they would probably keep studying me if I let them learn
what it was like when I was really cool.  I didn't want that.

   "Tell me about the first time it happened."

   I thought for a moment.  When was the first time?  I suppose the first
time I knew I was really different from other guys was when I was eleven
and I had a little trouble with a couple of football players.

   "The first time...well, I suppose the first time I responded that way
was when I was eleven and had just started into puberty and had to defend
myself from a bigger kid.  I didn't call it being cool then.  I didn't
understand it.  I liked to wear my hair long, long enough so I could tie it
up in back something like yours.  Some friends and I were playing in the
woods near our house when a guy, a football player from school, wandered
upon us.  I didn't really know him because I was home schooled but I knew
his reputation."

   "He started teasing all of, calling us little pussies and worse.  I felt
just a little cool but I had no idea what being really cool felt like.  I
turned and was just about to walk away from him when he pulled my
hair...very hard...hard enough to hurt me.  I turned back to face him and I
suppose my face reflected the anger I felt.  I actually saw red and I don't
mean that figuratively.  I saw him through a red haze and I felt really
cool for the first time.  I told him not to do it again and he called me a
little cunt and asked what I was going to do about it.  I didn't answer
him. I just glared at him.  Then he slapped me.  I still didn't do anything
but the cool feeling deepened.  When I saw him drawing back to slap me
again, it seemed he was moving in slow motion.  When he swung his arm
around again, I moved my head to one side, grabbed his thumb, and twisted
his arm around behind his back.  I learned later that I had broken the bone
in his thumb, almost wrenched it from his hand, and almost dislocated his
shoulder.  He started screaming with pain and my friends and I ran like
rabbits."

   "Of course the word got out about what I had done and the football
player lied to try to make me the aggressor.  My father was home then and,
when the school called to talk to my parents, my father took the call. 
After he hung up, he told me the principal wanted to talk to him about me
and what I had done.  He wanted my parents to bring me to school so he
could hear my side of the story.  I told my father the honest truth about
what had happened and the only thing he did was to pull me against him and
hug me.  I'll always remember what he told me.  `Son, when I have a problem
with a bad buy like that, I do whatever is necessary to take him out
immediately, maybe temporarily, maybe permanently.  You should do the same.
You'll know which to do.'"

   "My father took me to school the next day.  I remember how he was
dressed, in jeans and knit shirt, and I was proud of the way he looked,
slim, hard, with his muscles showing.  When we got out of the car, I held
his hand while we were walking into the school.  I thought nothing of it
because I quite often held his hand or my grandfather's hand when we
walked. Sometimes, we all three went for a walk after supper and I held
both their hands.  Anyway, I saw the football player and another guy who
also played sitting on a bench just behind a bicycle rack.  He had a big
cast on his hand and his arm was in a sling.  I don't think my father even
saw him and I didn't point him out.  School had just turned out and there
were lots of kids milling around and leaving on their bikes."

   "The principal seemed like a fair guy.  He was polite to both my father
and me and let me tell my story.  I didn't deny twisting the bully's thumb
but I didn't say anything about being cool.  I just made sure he saw the
handprint still on my cheek three days later.  He asked me to wait in the
outer office while he talked to my father.  I didn't wait where he had told
me; I went to the door to the school to see if the bully and his friend
were still there.  Bully was but his friend was gone."

   "Suddenly, I was shoved from behind, through the front door, and then to
one side to where the bicycle racks were.  The bully's friend kept shoving
me until I was at the bicycle racks with the two of them.  I was angry,
seeing red again, and as cool as I've ever been.  The next time the guy
tried to shove me, it seemed he was moving in slow motion.  I dodged to one
side, kicked his feet out from under him, and, when he went sprawling,
kicked him between his legs.  I knew what I was doing.  I aimed my foot at
his testicles and I got them.  I heard a crunch and I knew I had really
hurt him and I had meant to.  I turned to see the bully coming at me,
swinging his other hand in slow motion.  I sidestepped him, tripped him,
put my hand on his back and shoved him.  He fell face first into the
bicycle racks.  I later learned I had caused the first one to lose a
testicle and had caused the second one to break his nose and lose some of
his front teeth."

   "When I turned around my father and the principle were both running
toward me.  I stood there and deliberately tried to look innocent and
scared.  My father did the same thing he had done when I told him my story.
He grabbed me, hugged me against him, and stood there holding me so tightly
I could hardly breathe."

   "The bully and his friend were both rolling on the ground holding their
damaged parts and screaming and moaning with pain.  The principal surveyed
the damage I had done to two guys both much bigger than me and probably a
lot stronger.  Then he told my father to take me home.  He said he saw it
all and couldn't believe what he saw but he'd make sure I didn't have any
more trouble from anybody at the school.  I never did.  I never had any
trouble with any of the kids in the neighborhood when the word got around
about how I had defended myself.  On the way home, my father had just one
thing to say to me.  `Good job, David.  Couldn't have done it better
myself.' I was proud of what I had done to the two guys but my father's
words meant so much more to me."

   "Did it happen a lot after that, I mean, you being cool when there was
some sort of danger?" Anna asked.

   "No, nothing that bad happened again for years.  The next time it
happened, I had finished the Academy and been given my bars and sent to
combat duty.  I was on patrol with six other guys.  We'd been told to check
out some mud huts where some white pickup trucks had been spotted.  I
didn't wear my lieutenant's bars when we were on patrol, so I'd look like
just another one of the guys.  I didn't want to give away my knowledge of
their language.  We had one guy who spoke a little Farsi and he tried to
interrogate some old men.  I listened when they started talking to each
other."

   "Your Farsi is that good?" she asked.

   I nodded yes.  "One of them was squatted down on his haunches, not
talking, and he kept his eyes on me.  I don't know how he knew I understood
every word they said but he must have.  He looked up at me and said `Allah
will guide you if you look up to him.' He cast his eyes upward and I
understood.  He was telling me that someone would be on a rooftop."

   "You really knew that he was telling you that?"

   "Yes and I went cool.  I didn't understand what was happening.  It just
seemed like my vision was so good I could see the smallest details around
me.  I scanned the rooftops and didn't see anything until I looked at the
last building farther down the dirt road.  I saw something rounded on the
edge of a roof and I looked closer and saw eyes.  It was maybe a quarter
mile from me but I knew what it was.  I braced myself against the side of a
building, fired one round, and saw a head snap back.  A couple of seconds
later, another guy burst out of a side door and started running away.  I
fired one more round and he went down."

   Try as I might, I had been unable to rationalize the enhancement of my
normal abilities.  I couldn't find a reason that made any sense for it. 
That first time, it was like my eyes were a camera with a zoom feature. 
When I saw the rounded image on the rooftop, I zoomed in and saw the whole
face.  It was a face consumed with hatred.  I knew he was a bad guy.  At
the time, I didn't realize that anything unusual was happening.  Only later
did I realize what I'd done in seeing his face and it bewildered me.

   "But that's not the incident that got you your reputation, is it?" she
asked.  "I've heard all sorts of stories about how you killed ten men with
one shot each in less than a minute."

   "I killed seven men, Anna.  Are you sure you want me to tell you about
it?"

   "Yes.  Please."

   "I'd been cool on a few occasions before that time but nobody noticed
it. They noticed it after word got back about what I'd done that time."

   We walked on, following the dirt road in the moonlight, hand and hand. I
tried to decide how much of the truth I could tell her and still be
believable.

   "Go on, tell me all about it," she said.

   "I was just a young lieutenant, scared to death because I'd been
assigned to take a patrol to a location where a bunch of jihadists had been
seen.  I had ten men with me.  We were on foot, working our way through a
cluster of huts when they hit us.  A bunch of bad guys burst out of a gully
that we didn't spot.  They hit us with all sorts of small arms fire and
killed one of my guys and wounded two others."

   "I went cool and time slowed down and my vision was enhanced.  I just
stood there and did what I was trained to do.  I shot each of them one
time, six of them hit right in the center of their chest.  The last guy saw
what I was doing and almost scrambled back down in the gully for cover.  I
head shot him and his head exploded like a watermelon.  One of my men said
I killed all seven in less than a minute.  I stood there, over my guys
who'd been shot, guarding them, and took control."

   "I called for help - our helmets were equipped so we could communicate
with each other and with our base - and then got a couple of my men to take
care of the wounded.  The others helped me watch.  I stood there in the
direct sunlight for about thirty minutes until the copters got there.  I
sweated my uniform through and didn't even know it.  I just felt cool."

   "What was it like when you shot them?  How did they react?"

   "The first six, the ones I shot in the chest, just looked surprised and
then they sort of staggered backwards and folded up.  I was using some ammo
that had been altered a little.  It makes just a little hole going in. 
When it comes back out, it leaves a hole you could stick your fist in.  The
blood spray behind them is what tells you they're dead."

   "Were you supposed to be using ammo like that?  Altered, I mean."

   "No, but we all did it."

   "I heard you were wounded," she said.  "You didn't mention that."

   "One shot brushed the inside of my thigh," I lied.  "It bled a little.
It didn't hit anything important."

   She looked puzzled.  "Like what?"

   "Well, if it had been about six inches higher, it might have hit my
family jewels."

   She laughed.  "Well, I'm glad you weren't hurt, at least not there."

   I didn't dare tell her the truth about my injury.  I knew I'd been
wounded.  I felt the blood running down my leg.  I knew I had to protect my
men.  So I suppose I somehow told the injury not to bleed.  When the medics
examined me, they were amazed that the bullet passed through my leg with so
little loss of blood.  I couldn't rationalize that at all.  Thankfully, it
hadn't happened again.

   I decided to take a chance on something.  "Anna, do you think you could
love me?"

   She looked up at me in the moonlight, appraisingly, frowning.

   "S0metimes you frighten me, David.  I like you but...."

   "I'll never hurt you, Anna," I interrupted.  "Believe me; I'll never do
anything to hurt you.  I'm not going to say I love you yet.  I'm not sure
what love is anyway.  I just know I could never hurt you."

   "I believe you, David."

   "I'm not asking if you love me yet, Anna.  I'm just asking you if
there's a possibility you could."

   "Do you want to have sex with me, David?" she asked.

   "No, not really, at least not tonight," I said.  "I want to know whether
you think you could love me; that's all.  If a man and woman love each
other, they eventually have sex with each other; don't they?"

   "I like you, David," she whispered.  "I like you very much.  In time, I
think I could learn to love you."

   "I'm sick of death, Anna," I said as earnestly and honestly as I could.
"I'm so sick of it I feel like screaming.  I want to embrace life.  I want
to stand on a mountain top and look at miles of trees and a sparkling blue
sea.  I want to go fishing in a mountain stream and catch a bunch of trout
for supper.  I want to run naked through the forest like a deer.  I want to
be free, Anna.  And I want the love of a woman, especially that, her love.
I want a wife and children and a home and all that stuff.  I don't want to
keep on killing.  I want life, Anna, not death."

   "We don't have time for children, David," she teased.  "Perhaps we could
love each other a little before we go."

   "I'm not asking for sex, Anna," I said, seriously.  "I'm talking about
love.  I want the possibility of a life with love and, yeah, I want sex.  I
want children.  I want hope, Anna.  I want life.  I need it.  I guess it's
hope I need most."

   "Then you're like me, David," she said.  "I had about given up on all
those things.  You've made me want to believe in them again."

   "I'll warn you, Anna.  I'm plagued by demons.  They visit me at night.
There are things I can't talk about.  If I try, I go mute."

   "Would you try to talk to me about them?  I'll listen.  I'll try to
understand."

   "I was hoping you'd say that," I said.

   "Would you kiss me, David?" she whispered.  "We'll see where that
leads."

   "Yes," I said, and kissed her for the first time.

   I put my arms around her and pulled her against me.  I tried to be
gentle.  I didn't want to reveal the hunger I felt for her.  I didn't want
to frighten her.  She held her face up to me and I bent down to her and
just barely touched my lips to hers.  I pulled away almost immediately.

   Perhaps that wasn't the sort of kiss she wanted.  She took my head in
her hands, pulled it back down to her, kissed me with an open mouth, and
pushed her tongue into my mouth.  I gave in and let go of all restraint and
we stood locked together for what seemed like an eternity.

   My penis tried to become erect and strained against my shorts.  As
usual, I'd gone commando so my testicles could hang down and there was
nothing but the cloth of my khaki shorts to restrain my penis.  I put my
hands on her derriere and pulled her against my hardness.  I didn't want to
alarm her.  I just wanted her to know how much I desired her.  She wasn't
alarmed.  She put her hands on my butt, pulled me even harder against her,
and rubbed her pelvis against me.

   When we finally broke for breath, she leaned back and looked up at me.
Our hands were still holding each other by our buttocks.  We were both
breathing heavily.  I suppose we both wanted to let the beast loose.  I
know I did.  I rubbed my hard-on around and around on her stomach and
thighs.  I wanted her to feel it.  I wanted her to know how much I wanted
and needed her.

   "Wow," she finally said, breathlessly.

   "Perhaps we'd better continue our walk, Anna," I said.

   "I think you're right, David," she said.  "Maybe we should start back.
Can you walk with three legs?"

   <><><>

   Alone in bed that night, I lay there naked, propped up on pillows, with
my hands behind my head, staring at nothing.  The lights in the room were
off except for a small nightlight.  In the dim light I looked at my penis,
resting on my thigh.  It was soft but swollen, as though it still
remembered the embrace with Anna.  I reached down, pulled my testicles up
so they weren't caught between my thighs, and then crossed my ankles.

   I lay there thinking about Anna and our relationship.  Perhaps it would
be possible for me to seduce her.  Maybe she would give herself to me
willingly, maybe eagerly, to judge from her kiss.  Was it too early in our
relationship?  I didn't want to hurt her.  I very much wanted to spare her
the hurt she might feel if I pushed her into sex too soon and she felt I
was like all the others and that sex was all I wanted.

   I thought about the mission that I wanted so much and about my chance of
coming back from it.  I hadn't told her about it.  I couldn't tell her
about it, even though I wanted so much to be honest with her.  How would it
affect her if we made love and that made her want me to be with her for the
rest of our lives and then I didn't come back from the mission?  Perhaps it
would be best if I kept our relationship from developing any further.  But
I wanted her.  I knew I wanted her, but not just for sex.  I wanted her for
love and marriage and kids and all the wonderful things about family.

   I thought about the demons that plagued my dreams.  I had struggled for
years to avoid thinking about the cause of the nightmares and I had largely
succeeded.  At night, however, I could not consciously repress the incident
and I knew it was manifesting itself in my dreams, when I had no control.
How would she react when or if I told her about it?

   I struggled with deciding what the right thing to do was.  I knew I was
beginning to love her.  I knew I didn't want to hurt her.  I knew I needed
her and wanted her.  I finally decided that was all I knew for sure.

   I wanted sex with Anna but I finally decided that my hand would have to
be a poor substitute.  From the nightstand, I took the container of crème I
used to masturbate and rubbed a big glob over my penis and then over my
testicles.  I put my hand under my scrotum, lifted my balls, and lay there
looking at them.  I knew they were pouring out a river of testosterone.  I
knew they were producing millions of sperm each day.  I knew how insistent
was the need to find an outlet for all those sperm.  Almost every night, I
used my hand to find some relief so I could go to sleep.  My balls were the
cause of all my sexual problems and I knew it but I was glad I had them.  I
didn't want to be without them.  I liked being a man.

   Finally I wrapped my fingers around my penis and began to slowly stroke
it, watching as my foreskin uncovered the head and then recovered it.  I
was in no hurry to reach orgasm.  I enjoyed the way it felt when I started
slowly and gently.  I wondered what Anna would have said if I had let her
see it.  Did she believe me when I said it was smaller than average?  Would
she like it?  Would she have said something like Gabrielle had said?  "Il
ne casse rien."

   <><><>

   Just after I turned sixteen, my French maternal grandparents sent me an
invitation to spend the summer with them.  Since they offered to pay for
airfare, it was an offer I couldn't refuse.  I flew into Bordeaux and rode
the train down to Toulouse.

   I spent the summer speaking nothing but French, eating grandmère
L'Héritier's marvelous French food, drinking grandpère's good wine, and
almost forgetting I was an American.  I talked endlessly about my life in
Les États-Unis and about my paternal grandparents.  I was able to talk
about my parents as long as I avoided anything that happened after I was
twelve.  I think they understood.

   Midsummer, I spent a week with my mother's brother and his family in
Perpignan, further south, on the Golfe du Lion.  I'd never met my uncle,
Bernard L'Héritier, his wife Michèle, or their two daughters, Gabrielle and
Dannielle.  When I arrived Saturday afternoon, the family gave me a warm
reception at the train station and then things just got hotter after that.

   Their home was an old stone building that looked strange; it had an
extension without a roof to one side.  The extension didn't need one.  It
was a completely-enclosed pool that was surrounded by a stone wall and
hundreds of potted plants.  From the tables and chairs and chaises
scattered around, it was evident they almost lived there.

   Gabi and Danni were both younger than me, fifteen and twelve to my
much-more mature sixteen.  Danni had agreed to share Gabi's bed so I could
have hers, if - her words - I didn't mess it up.  They both delighted in
teasing me and embarrassing me and making me feel ten years old, especially
when we were with their friends.

   I hadn't brought anything for swimming so the girls immediately insisted
on going shopping for something for me to wear.  The three of us rode
bicycles through narrow streets to a shop.  I chose the long shorts that I
was used to at home but the girls insisted that I buy something that barely
covered my butt in back and my genitals in front.  It was a Speedo.  I gave
in to their wishes with trepidation.

   Back at their house, my uncle told me the family usually had
Saturday-night dinner beside the pool, wearing their swimming attire.  I
went to my room - Danni's room - and changed into my Speedo and then almost
wished I'd insisted on longer shorts.  The Speedo was too revealing for a
sixteen year-old boy who wasn't accustomed to French preferences in
swimwear.

   My uncle was sitting at a table near the pool in something just as
revealing.  Then Danni came out, carrying a dish for our meal, and my eyes
bugged out.  She had forgotten the top to her bikini and her budding
breasts had real nipples.  I could hardly take my eyes off them.  When Gabi
came out dressed, or undressed, the same way, with larger breasts,
beautiful, perfectly-rounded beasts, and carrying another dish, I thought
I'd died and gone to heaven.  When my aunt came out, with even larger
breasts, I knew I had.

   For a boy who had seen the real breasts of only one female, three pairs
in a few minutes were too much.  I began to get an erection.  My uncle must
have noticed it.  He invited me to sit down for dinner and handed me a
napkin.  The meal was more wonderful French food.  I was embarrassed when I
missed my mouth with my fork.  I made an excuse that I wasn't accustomed to
the European way of eating: knife always in left hand, fork always in right
hand.  In reality, their way was the way my French mother had taught me. 
The females all grinned when I offered my excuse.  I think they knew the
real reason.

   On Monday, things got even hotter.  My uncle went to work.  My aunt went
shopping.  I was left at home with my two first cousins who were intent on
driving me crazy.

   They wanted to play in the pool so we did.  They wanted to lie in the
sun in three chaise-lounges side by side with me in the middle so we did.
Imagine two beautiful young girls wearing little bikini bottoms and nothing
else, with perfect little breasts.  They wanted to talk about sex so we
did. It was a subject they knew little about and, of course, I professed to
be very knowledgeable.

   I lay there in the sun, warm and relaxed, with my eyes shut and talked
to them.  I was proud of myself for keeping my penis under reasonable
control.  I had a big bulge in my Speedo but at least it was no longer
trying to rip its way out.

   Then I was attacked.  That's the only to describe it.  They both piled
on me at the same time, tickling me, rubbing their breasts against me, and
trying to pull my Speedo down.  Finally I gave in and let them.  A few
seconds later, my penis was as hard as it ever gets and suspended above my
belly, almost to my navel.

   Danni looked at it, said, "Il est étonnant," and started giggling.

   Gabi just shrugged, said "Il ne casse rien," and started giggling too.

   Danni took a deep breath and said, "Il faut le voir pour le croire."

   I lay there looking from Danni's face to Gabi's and didn't know what to
say.  Like all sixteen year-old boys, I was proud of my penis.  I'd never
heard it described as nothing special before.  I liked Danni's response
better - It has to be seen to be believed.

   The next time we were left alone, Gabi and Danni wanted to swim again
and I knew they wanted to do more than that.  I refused to let them pull my
Speedo down unless they pulled theirs down too.  They were reluctant to do
it but they finally yielded, Danni first and then Gabi.  I looked at Danni
first, at the little cleft in her mound, with a sparse growth of pubic
hair, and then at Gabi.  Gabi's dark pubic hair almost covered whatever was
between her legs but I could see the slit in her mound too, this time with
something like a little finger between the two soft halves.  I suppose I'd
expected to see some place where I could insert my penis but I didn't see
anything like that.  I was curious as to where their vaginas were.

   "Il ne casse rien," I said, grinning as wide as I could.  And that's
when they attacked me again.

   <><><>

   "Il ne casse rien." Eight years later and I still remembered the way
Gabi and Danni looked at me that afternoon, or rather, at my penis.  I held
it straight up and looked at it critically for a minute.  It was bigger
than average but I thought it was fitting for a man my size.  I pulled my
foreskin down and looked at the red head of it.  Nice and shiny and smooth.
Good shape, kind of funny shaped, but I liked it.  I slid the skin back up
and looked at the shaft.  Smooth skin with some hair down near the base. 
One big blood vessel up its length with faint ones branching off it.  Il ne
casse rien.  What the hell!  I liked it.  I remembered that both of them
had liked it too.

   In fact, they loved it so much that they masturbated me to orgasm four
times in one afternoon.  The first time, they were on their knees on each
side of me, looking down at what was in their hands.  I put my hands under
my head and offered no resistance.  They masturbated me in turn and then
squealed when I sprayed their faces with my semen.  They pretended to be
mad at me but I told them they should have known not to have their heads
directly over it.

   The second time, they lay on each side of me, well out of firing range,
with Danni's hand cupped under my testicles and Gabi's hand flying up and
down on the shaft of my penis.  Danni counted the pulses when I came, all
eight of them, the first flying over my head and the rest laying down a
white trail from my face to my lower abdomen.  Then she said: "C'est
magnifique!" I managed a smile when Gabi agreed: "C'est vraiment
magnifique!"

   I thought about how their soft hands felt as they played with my penis
and testicles and how much I loved every minute of it.  I felt proud of the
white strings and puddles of semen on my chest and stomach.  I was
astonished when first Gabi and then Danni stuck their fingers in a puddle,
smelled the semen, and then stuck it in their mouths.  It was Danni who
said it this time: "Il ne casse rien."

   Somehow I knew that I shouldn't try to have intercourse with them and I
suppose I was afraid to try.  I did coax them into spreading their legs and
pulling everything there apart so I could see the pink flesh in their
vaginas.  I tried to get them to perform oral sex on me and Gabi did it for
a few seconds before pulling away and announcing that it was too big. 
Danni wanted to try but, after holding my penis straight up for a while and
moving her open mouth closer to it, she agreed with her sister that it was
just too big.  She licked it like an ice cream cone instead.

   "Il ne casse rien." I couldn't help but smile, remembering Danni's face.
Her eyes looked as big as saucers.

   I wondered what Anna's reaction would be when she saw it.  I hoped she
wouldn't say "Il ne casse rien." How would she feel about oral sex?  I
thought about how I felt and decided I'd love to do her even if she didn't
reciprocate but I wanted her to do it to me.

   I shut my eyes, stroked my penis a little faster, and pictured Gabi with
her mouth covering the head of my penis and her soft hand moving up and
down on the shaft.  That image metamorphed into Anna and I held the image
of her wild hair covering my stomach while her hidden mouth sucked on the
head of my penis.

   Within a minute of so, I came and the feeling was so intense that I
groaned loudly and then immediately looked around, not remembering where I
was, beside the pool with Gabi sucking me while Danni watched, or Anna
sucking me while I came in her mouth.  Instead I was in my room, in my bed,
alone, with semen on my face and white puddles and drools of semen all over
my stomach and chest.

   I lay there looking down at the mess I had made, holding onto the
muddled images of Gabi and Anna sucking me and then I wondered what either
one of them would do if I did come in her mouth, or really, what would Anna
do.  I had seen Gabi and Danni only once more when their family visited in
the United States but they were often in my imagination.

   Why would a woman want to suck a man's penis until he comes in her
mouth? I couldn't imagine she would find a mouth full of semen palatable.
Would she swallow it?  Would I?  I didn't know.

   I wiped my finger through the semen in my navel and stuck it in my
mouth. I moved the semen around with my tongue and felt its viscosity.  It
seemed to stick to my tongue and I used my teeth to rake it off.  I was
salivating heavily and I let my saliva mix with the semen and then pulled
it to the back of my mouth and swallowed.  The taste was strange and
unexpectedly arousing.  I thought back to the first time I had tasted it
when a buddy and I had dared each other to taste our own and then the
other's.  We had both agreed we had to swallow it.  How old was I? 
Thirteen?  What would Anna think of sucking me off and then swallowing it?
I wanted her to do it.

   I got up and went in the bathroom to the shower.  A few minutes later I
was back in bed and sleep came quickly.

   <><><>

   A few nights later, I was awakened twice, by two quite-different dreams.
The first was another wet dream; the second was another nightmare.

   The first time I was dreaming of sex with a woman.  In my sleep-muddled
state I couldn't tell whether she was sucking me or I was fucking her.  I
wanted the woman to be Anna but it could have been any woman.  I had
awakened with the orgasm already fading away, my shorts drenched with my
semen, and my penis still hard.  I lay there trying to hang onto the
pleasure but knowing I had to leave my warm bed and go to the cold
bathroom. When my erection finally subsided, I threw back the blankets and
went to the bathroom to clean myself.

   Anna had offered to lend me a hand.  We had been in the darkened TV room
at her barracks, wrapped up in each other, drowning in kissing, and both
hot and sweaty from wanting.  My penis had been hard for an hour or so and
she had offered to masturbate me.  But there were two other couples in
darkened corners and I wouldn't let her.  She said the other couples would
probably do it but I just couldn't.

   I wanted to love her and have sex with her and to release my semen at
the entrance to her womb.  I wanted to ejaculate where there was a
possibility of creating life.  I knew she'd had a contraceptive implant. 
It was common knowledge that all the women trainees had, since they
wouldn't be able to rely on the pill when they went out on assignment. 
They all knew they might be raped if they were captured but at least they
knew they wouldn't be impregnated.

   When I got back to my barracks, I should have masturbated.  It was a
nightly ritual, usually in the shower, in bed on occasion.  I had laid
there with my hard penis in my hand, waiting for sleep.  I didn't want to
masturbate; I wanted to make love with Anna.  My body compromised with a
wet dream.

   The second time I awoke with my heart pounding and my lungs struggling
for breath.  I was dreaming of something horrible happening to someone I
loved.  I tried to hang on to the fleeting remnants of the dream so I could
understand it.  The dream was usually different in content but it was
always the same in meaning: someone I loved was being killed or tortured or
maimed and I was helpless to do anything about it.

   The dream was a recurrent one I had been experiencing for years.  I knew
what it meant but I didn't know what to do about it.  I knew I should talk
with someone, probably a psychiatrist, but I was afraid to reveal the
problem because I knew it could mean I would never get the mission I wanted
so much.

   I wanted to tell Anna everything but I was afraid that I wouldn't be
able to.  I didn't know how she would react, especially if I suddenly went
mute while trying to talk to her.  I was afraid I'd lose what little hope I
had of a life with her.

   I laid there in bed for the rest of the night thinking about Anna and
what I wanted to do with her and what I should do about her and I finally
decided I had to tell her.
   TO BE CONTINUED: