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  “Here, give me your weapon,” Anna said. “I need to go to the bathroom first, so I’ll take it with me. Then when you’re done showering, you can watch mine.”

  Kelsey handed her rifle over gladly. It was a constant pain in her ass keeping the thing within arm’s reach while she showered. Without the weapon, she would even be able to close her curtain all the way so she could shave her legs in privacy.

  After almost thirty minutes at the shower trailer, Kelsey and Anna were finally ready to go back to their CHU so they could get ready for the next day, and do it all over again.

  4

  Craig stumbled as he stepped over the lip of the shower. He was dragging ass and he knew it. The last seven weeks had been miserable. And, as a combat infantryman, he loved it. He was tired, sore, bruised, and had a hundred small cuts and abrasions from constantly diving to the ground when they came under fire in Fallujah. He needed to take a few days of rest, but he wanted to see Kelsey first.

  The Second Battle of Fallujah, as everyone called it, had been a resounding success. While the combined US and British forces had ninety-nine killed in action, and another seven hundred wounded, they’d killed more than two thousand insurgents, and captured another fifteen hundred. Craig felt the loss of men he’d known from his sister company, but as a military operation, it was the best result imaginable—especially after they’d been told to expect thirty percent casualties before the mission.

  He sighed heavily as he put his shaving kit down on the sink. All around him, men from his battalion were laughing and joking, nude, playing grab-ass in the shower trailer. Finally, they were all back on the base, their home for twelve months, and they were celebrating facing death head-to-head and surviving. He was happy to have been a part of the operation, sure, but Craig wondered what they’d won. The Air Force could have just as easily leveled that city and saved the lives of the US servicemen who’d gone in and fought house to house.

  “But that’s not how we do war these days,” he grumbled to his scruffy reflection.

  “Talking to yourself, Sergeant Cantrell?”

  Craig glanced over at the pasty white kid who’d walked up to the other sink. “Jesus Christ, Calhoun,” he exclaimed, pointing at the naked specialist’s groin. “Hasn’t your team leader counseled you about bringing a loaded weapon into the showers?” The guy was hung like a fucking horse.

  Calhoun reddened. “Yeah, well the ladies like it, Sergeant.”

  Craig grinned. “Looks like you’re trying to smuggle a mortar round home. What the fuck?” He turned to Sergeant Joseph Rodriguez. “What the fuck is it, man? Is giving retards a giant cock, like, God’s consolation prize or something?”

  Rodriguez laughed. “Yeah, bro. Calhoun’s got a fucking hammer. Too bad he spends all day jerking it to World of Warcraft characters.”

  Craig turned back to Calhoun, who’d miraculously found a towel and wrapped it around his skinny frame. “Really? You play that garbage?”

  “Yes I do, Sergeant. The interactions—”

  “You ever fucked a girl, Calhoun?” he asked, interrupting what he was sure would be the gamer nerd’s rant about developing a deeper connection with someone online than in real life. “Or hell, a guy? I don’t know how you swing.”

  The kid’s reddened cheeks burned brighter. “Of course. I’ve given this dick to lots of girls back home.”

  It sounded like he was repeating a line he’d read somewhere. “Not fairytale video game girls. Real life women, with tight little pussies, and puckered assholes—hey! Hey, Specialist. I’m talking to you. Don’t you dare turn your fucking back on me.”

  Calhoun stopped his progress toward the showers and turned back to the NCO, slipping his hands behind his back and widening his feet to shoulder width apart to stand in the position of parade rest. “I’m sorry, Sergeant.”

  Craig lifted a hand and waved him off. “Ah, nevermind, kid. You just keep dealing out death like you did back there in Fallujah and you’ll have women worshiping that horse cock of yours in no time.”

  The specialist grinned and started to relax his posture, but thought better of it. “Go on,” Craig said. “You’re free to go, man. Just keep that monster in its cage, alright?”

  Calhoun relaxed. “Yes, Sergeant.”

  He turned and headed back to the showers. “And quit playing fucking World of Warcraft! That shit will rot your brain.”

  Craig lathered on his shaving cream. “I have never seen a dick that big, ever,” he muttered to Rodriguez.

  “Yeah, life ain’t fair, man.”

  “Like, seriously. It’s like the Stay Puffed Marshmallow Man’s cock got stuck onto that dumbass by accident at the baby factory.”

  “You’re dwelling on that kid’s dick an awful long time, Craig.”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, well, the kid’s got a gift. Too bad he’s a dipshit and joined the infantry. He could have been slaying some pussy if he was in a pogue finance battalion or something.”

  “No,” Rodriguez countered. “He’d still be a fucking nerd and wouldn’t have the balls to talk to a woman in real life. Thank God, though, right? Word of that monster gets out and you or I wouldn’t have a chance with the ladies.”

  Craig scraped away the weeks’ worth of stubble on his face. They’d been forced to shave in the field immediately after the operation was over because a group of reporters wanted to do interviews, but had been left alone for the last week to prepare vehicles and equipment for the return trip. “Speak for yourself. It got so bad back in Korea that I had to install a second deadbolt to keep the girls from beating down my door.”

  “You can’t count hookers looking for their money as girls wanting to date you,” Rodriguez said, wiping his own freshly-shaven face with his towel. He dropped his voice. “You headed over to that nurse’s CHU?”

  Craig glanced around to make sure no one was in earshot. “Medic. Not a nurse. She’s enlisted. I’m not that dumb.”

  Rodriguez shrugged. “Well, be smart, man. We need you over here. Don’t get caught up in something foolish.”

  Craig raised three fingers to shoulder height. “I swear on my Boy Scout honor.”

  “Were you really a Boy Scout?”

  “Nope,” Craig replied, making Rodriguez laugh.

  “Alright. If Anderson asks about you, I’ll cover for you.”

  “Thanks, buddy.” Craig finished shaving and brushed his teeth before slapping on the shitty Aqua Velva aftershave that he’d gotten at the small troop store. He smelled like his grandpa, but it was all they had for aftershave and if he didn’t use it, his face would be a mess of red bumps in an hour.

  “Go get ’em, killer,” Rodriguez called after his retreating form. “I’ll babysit Sir Horsecock of Make Believe Land.”

  Craig shook his head as he walked back to his tent. He hoped Kelsey was at her CHU. He really needed to see her after so long away. “This place would be so much easier with cell phones,” he muttered, thinking about the mile-long walk to her room. It would be a long, frustrating walk back if she wasn’t there.

  5

  The wind blew down Victory Base’s main road, chilling Craig to the core. The winds had picked up almost immediately after he left the tightly packed confines of Camp Liberty and began the walk across the sprawling base to where Kelsey’s CHU was located near the hospital. Besides the wind, the night itself was cold, so cold that Craig wished he’d added an extra layer of snivel gear under his issued fleece. The additional long-sleeve shirt, what soldiers called snivel gear, would have helped keep him warm. Instead, he had to settle with staying warm the old fashioned way, with exercise.

  His battalion was camped in tents and a few portable trailers on Camp Liberty, which was one of several smaller groupings of buildings, sleeping areas, and motor pools for equipment. All of the smaller camps were a part of the sprawling and bloated US military compound known as the Victory Base Complex. Most of the combat units were housed in the smaller camps away from the main complex, where the support and command personnel stayed. Before he met Kelsey, he’d hated going to the main compound, especially at night.

  He glanced at a densely-packed grouping of tents and portables behind a ring of large, concrete blast barriers known as T-walls. He could feel the malevolence radiating from the place. It was one of several Third Country National housing areas where contractors from places like Sri Lanka, India, Angola, and the Philippines were crammed together, sharing cots as they worked sixteen-hour days for little money. The TCN support contractors were the source of many of the purported rapes across the military bases in Iraq. Craig ran his thumb along the safety switch of his M-4 rifle, ensuring it was on safe. He didn’t understand how anyone who was required to be armed 24/7 could be a victim, but it happened to both males and females, which was one of the many reasons behind the buddy system rule that the commander had directed.

  Craig glanced at the specialist walking beside him. He was the boyfriend of Kelsey’s roommate, Anna. He was an okay guy, but he hated that his own indiscretions were forced to be witnessed by others. Getting caught walking alone from Liberty to Victory by the MPs would raise too many questions though. Out of necessity he had to let people like Specialist Smith here and his buddy, Sergeant Rodriguez, know where he was going so they could cover down for him. When anyone went missing for more than a couple of hours without an alibi, base-wide searches were quickly initiated. Kidnappings were a constant concern, even on base since a lot of host nation contractors worked there as well. The Americans may have helped to depose Saddam Hussein, but the Iraqi people, by and large, were not fans of the occupying force and there’d been many insider attacks in the last few months.

  “So, Jon, are you redeploying soon?” Craig asked to ease the apprehension he felt around the TCN
compound.

  Jon Smith looked up from the road to him. He was shorter than Craig’s six-foot two. He was probably about five-ten if Craig were to guess, but the kid had slabs of muscle from lifting the ninety-six pound artillery rounds all day, whereas Craig’s musculature was longer and more lean from swimming competitively as a teenager before he switched to football.

  “I don’t know, Sergeant. My brigade rotates out in February, but I was a late deployer and didn’t’ arrive in theater until May. They’re still trying to determine if I’ll stay for the entire twelve months or if I’ll redeploy with my unit.”

  Craig nodded. There were tons of cases like his across theater. As units got new soldiers from Basic Training or transferred from another base, they sent them directly to Iraq or Afghanistan, regardless of how long the unit had been there. Mostly, the soldiers went home with the rest of their unit, but he’d heard plenty of stories where men and women were temporarily assigned to other units and taskings because they had so much time left on their twelve-month clock. It all depended on how the commander wanted to treat their people.

  “Well, keep your head up, Specialist,” Craig said, falling into his role as a noncommissioned officer. “You joined the Army to see the world and kill bad guys. No better place to do that than in Iraq.”

  “Roger,” Jon mumbled.

  “So, you excited for Christmas?” he asked, continuing the forced dialogue as they walked.

  Jon brightened. “Yes! I ordered Anna a few shirts and some lingerie.” He held up the small bag he carried.

  “Where the hell do you think she’s gonna wear that?” Craig snorted.

  “Well… I mean, in her room, when I’m over there.”

  “She’ll wear it for Jodie while you’re out on missions.”

  “She’s not like that, Sergeant.”

  Craig dropped the teasing before he took it too far and voiced his own opinions on the matter, opinions that were sure to be spread to Anna, and then on to Kelsey. He liked her, a lot, but he was also a realist. He only saw the girl once, maybe twice a week, they’d never had a discussion about being exclusive, so he figured there was probably somebody else. He hoped not, but he knew better than to ask.

  “In fact,” Specialist Smith continued, “I’m thinking of asking her to marry me on Christmas day.”

  The sergeant stopped. “What?”

  “Yeah, I bought a small promise ring off of Amazon. It’s not anything expensive that she’d get torn up over if it gets lost or damaged here in theater, but—”

  “How long have you two been dating?”

  “We met in July. It was just after the Fourth of July because there was still all the stars and stripes stuff up in the dining facility.”

  Craig did some quick counting on his fingers. “So, you’ve been dating for six months?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “And how much of that time has actually been together and not just over email?”

  “I don’t know, Sergeant. Maybe fifteen days or so.”

  “Think about that. You’re willing to marry someone who you’ve only been around for fifteen days?” He stopped, remembering a key fact. “Wait, aren’t you stationed at Fort Hood?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And she’s from, Stewart?”

  “Germany.”

  Craig laughed aloud. “That’s even worse. She’s stationed in Germany and you’re in Texas.”

  “We’ll… We’ll make it work, Sergeant. I’m up for a PCS about a year after I get back from here and she’s supposed to PCS within a few months of redeploying. We could ask for the same duty station.”

  Craig considered the Permanent Change of Station, PCS, option that the other man mentioned. He didn’t think that was a long-term solution because they’d be off cycle, with one of them PCSing a year after the other arrived. “Okay. Look, I don’t want to ruin your night—or your plans. Getting married is just a major life commitment and I’d hate to see someone take that step without looking at all of the options.”

  He started walking again and heard the specialist’s boots on the gravel behind him. Marriage? he thought. Why would any nineteen year old kid want to get married?

  6

  There was a soft knock on the door of her CHU, causing Kelsey to look up. She jumped down from her bed where she’d been sitting cross-legged, reading a book about alien abductions and UFOs. It was all they’d had at the small book exchange point on base that sounded even mildly interesting.

  She slipped her feet into her shower shoes and rushed toward the door. Anna beat her to it. “Who is it?” her roommate called through the door. Peepholes or a small window to see who was at the door would have been nice to have, but the trailer didn’t have either of those.

  “It’s Craig and Jon,” a familiar voice whispered.

  Anna unlocked the deadbolt and threw open the door. “Hey, boys! Come in, quick.”

  While General Order Number One only forbid sexual relations, the base commander had also forbid males and females from being in the same sleeping quarters. It was another mark against them if their relationships were discovered.

  The two men slipped inside and Anna closed the door quickly behind them. In all likelihood, nobody was watching the housing area, and even if they were, they probably wouldn’t have cared, but it was better to err on the side of caution and not flaunt their relationships in front of others.

  Anna practically fell into Jon’s arms and they were kissing before they even rounded the wall locker partition. Kelsey smiled up at her man. He leaned down and kissed her. It was soft at first, then her lips parted, allowing his tongue to slip inside. He pulled her into him and she gave a slight yelp as her hip hit the butt of his rifle.

  “Sorry,” Craig said, pulling his head back. “Let me take this off.”

  She stepped back from the doorway and walked quickly to her side of the room. Her flip flops made little thwack-thwack-thwack sounds as she walked. Craig sat his compact M-4 rifle next to her longer, much older M-16.

  Kelsey slipped off her shower shoes and jumped up onto her bed. Behind the wall lockers, she could hear Jon taking off his gear as well. Craig picked up her camp chair and set it down directly across from her. They’d learned early on in their forbidden relationship that his uniform would be dirty by the time he’d made the trek across the base, and they did not want that stuff getting in the bed.

  Anna turned on her CD player and country music filled the room softly before she turned up the volume to help mask the sounds coming from their side of the room. Craig had already untied his boots and slipped them off, then he stood and took off his uniform top.

  She leaned forward and grabbed his belt, pulling him toward her without causing the big man to fall onto the bed. He leaned down to kiss her once more as her fingers found the trailing end of his belt. She kissed back, trusting her hands to slide the rough canvas belt through the two D-shaped buckles unseen. His kiss took on an intensity and need that hadn’t been there a moment ago and Kelsey suddenly realized that they hadn’t even said hello yet.

  “Hi,” she said, breathlessly.

  He grinned that cute, lopsided little smile that he gave her when he thought she was being silly. “Hello,” he replied.

  She slid the belt through the buckles and unbuttoned the top button on his pants, biting her lower lip as she looked up at him. She’d practiced that look for hours in the mirror when she was a teenager and felt she’d perfected it enough to drive any man wild. It worked.

  He slid his shirt up over his chest, and then pulled it over his head. Kelsey’s fingers slipped up his abdomen, relishing the hardness of his muscles. In high school he’d swam competitively and played football, the years of sports at that key developmental time had shaped and honed his body. He’d only added more muscle as an adult and was still lean and broad shouldered—and sexy as hell.

  “I missed you,” she muttered softly, pressing the side of her face against his stomach. The thin line of hair that led from his belly button down into his underwear tickled her nose and she laughed.

  His hand rested on her head and gently stroked her hair. “What is it?”