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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2005. Please
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Who's To Say?
by Peter Pan (uds3@hotmail.com)
***
This was the first 'account' let us say, I ever wrote.
Extremely short, it is but a fleetingly recalled,
highly distressing incident during the Vietnam War. It
is fully devoid of sex... BE WARNED! Although I would
ask each and every reader of the "Kristen Archives" to
suspend judgment on that particular fact until you have
read the entire piece. I have my reasons for saying
that, as you will see. (MM, v, military)
***
I was asked once, "What use is a fly?" Why, in the
Infinite's great wisdom, did he create them?" I had
been then tempted to reply, "What use is a human?" and
in truth, there must be a myriad of advanced life-forms
throughout the universe, could ponder the same
question. But looking down upon the enquirer - a most
beautiful curly-haired moppet, barely out of mid-
childhood, I was struck by the significance of it all.
I was a teacher in those days, working at a State High
School in small-town Iowa. Perhaps with less
inclination to air my views publicly in the presence of
Governing Bodies, I could have held on to my earlier
role as Deputy Principal at San Manaleus High near
Sausalito, maybe even the top job was mine, had I put
my mind... and gag, to it!
Thus the Spring of '81 found me atop this grassy knoll,
behind the baseball square, looking over acres of
swaying cornfields across from the highway, surrounded
by twenty-eight vitally interactive year nines,
including miss curly hair! It was the last day of term
and the traditional school-picnic was underway.
So too was the exhuberant behaviour - I had just called
'full-time' to an impromptu game of gridiron wherein
six of the larger boys had been using one of the girl's
hockey-bags as a ball, when Callie (she, of the curly
hair!) popped the aforementioned question.
I looked down at her, exquisite features set in a
strong face. Blue eyes framed by long lashes that would
have been the envy of every girl at Prom Night - you
couldn't buy natural innocent beauty such as this! I
smiled at her.
"Callie," I said, "Everything has a purpose...
toothache, death, acne, missing the bus... whatever!
Whether or not you KNOW that purpose, is another thing
though! You asked me about flies? Well, let me answer
you with this tale."
"Some years ago, seems an eternity now I guess, I had
the misfortune to have been sent out to Da Nang
Province at the height of the Vietnam conflict. Hell,
all of us knew we had no right being there, but we'd
been conscripted and not one of us was about to stand
up and insult the US flag by beefing about it. We had
each other to look after, and for more than four months
we did a damn fine job. Ed had been wounded, but I'd
seen him take worse at a schoolyard beating near Fort
Worth.
Ricardo I'd known him years earlier on a local baseball
team... he was the comedian of the group - kept us
laughing with his impressions of Nixon and John Lennon.
Smithy was the quiet one - a chemical engineer before
he was called up. He spent most of his time dreaming up
the most God-awful biological weapons you ever saw. The
enemy was better off having him in our platoon than in
a Pentagon Laboratory back home implementing his
nightmarish concepts.
Aussie Jack was my best friend, born in Sydney,
Australia. His father was Texan, and he'd come home
when he was twelve... took a hell of a ribbing over his
accent, till he lost it round about Boot Camp. Then
there was 'Long' John, one-time cook who worked at a
roadside diner on the Boulder Highway out near 'Vegas.
Must have been six foot seven. If his burgers weren't
so damn good, any basketball promoter would have signed
him up.
Lastly, it was my great privilege to know Simon, who
came to be known as 'The Weasel' This guy was good - he
had the ability to crawl within fifty yards of an enemy
encampment without being detected. He had developed an
unequalled knowledge of trip-wires and land-mines and
was responsible for getting us to pole-position in so
many operations. It was rumored that the 'Cong had a
$100,000 price on his head. Gives you some idea of his
value to us groundies.
Late '69, Base-Command had us moving in on a 'Cong
stronghold at Muang, less than a hundred clicks from
the Laos border. Two Marine battalions had been wiped
out by guerillas in the area, our enemy-warning system
having no indication of their presence there. We were
dropped in by chopper and dug-in for the first night or
so.
Long John had made Captain and Ricardo Second-in-
Command. Drenching rain made progress slow and
difficult, so none of us spoke much, but I guess we all
had our minds on the job in front of us. 'Weasel' was
sent on ahead to spy out the territory and we made
maximum gains during the next twenty four hours. Round
about this time I had a bad feeling about the operation
- don't ask me why, we'd been on a hundred such
missions before, but I remember asking Ed one night if
he ever regretted not having gotten married earlier -
he'd looked right back at me and said, "Plenty of time
for that ol' buddy... plenty of time!"
Shortly after dawn the next morning, 'Weasel' brought
news that the 'Cong camp was no more than a mile to the
north east. We checked our equipment, took a quick
briefing from Long John and headed off. Base Command
had promised all of us a two month furlough if this was
pulled off successfully. We crawled up to the perimeter
of the camp, 'Weasel' having by-passed several of the
outer trip-wires, and took inventory of enemy numbers.
There must have been twenty or so!
Fanning outwards, we covered the encampment from a
three-sixty degree vantage point, and on Long John's
signal, let rip with everything we had. Half of the
guerillas were dead before they even knew where to
shoot. The 'Cong managed to fire off three or four
mortars, and both Ricardo and Smithy were slightly
wounded by shrapnel... other than that, it was over in
less than five minutes.
After securing the area, Long John called us down. He
had kept a couple of Budweisers in his kit, as well as
a rolled-up flag which he now unfurled and jammed fast
into the roof of the 'Cong's hut. "Bastards" he said,
tears of utter emotion running down his cheeks - "You
think you can stand up against the power of THIS?." he
leaped down. "C'mon in boys - have a drink to a job
well done."
Everyone filed in behind Long John, I was furthest back
having taken top tree position. Just twenty yards from
the cabin, the biggest damn blowfly you ever saw flew
straight into my left eye. In surprise and pain, I
dropped to my knees. Less than a second later the
explosion tore the roof off the hut. It would have
decapitated me if I had been standing. Heat from the
blast hurled me back into the jungle but otherwise I
was uninjured.
As I sat there crying, I knew "Weasel" was around
somewhere cursing the fact he'd missed one last booby-
trap. All but Aussie Jack were dead – he died in my
arms within ten minutes, leaving me no answers, but so
many questions...
But for you Callie, you have YOUR answer don't you?"
POSTSCRIPT:
I wrote this because two years later, a pretty blonde
girl was found face down in those distant cornfields.
The girl had, according to forensic reports, been
multiply raped by at least six males, beaten
repeatedly, sodomised and burned beneath both nipples
with what appeared to be a cigarette-lighter. She had
been put out of her unimaginable misery when they
finally cut her throat. It was Callie, she was still
just 16. No arrests were ever made.
Although I can never again travel to Iowa and put right
what God was unwilling to prevent, she can now live
again, if only for a few fleeting seconds, everytime
someone in the world reads this. It is all I can give
her.
(c) Noel Bailey/Peter_Pan
"Who's To Say" is taken from the published anthology of
short stories "Imagine For A Moment" now available at:
http://www.lulu.com/content/69187
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 40