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Apprehension is running rampant, with many of us sweating from the effort of considering the Colonel’s cryptic remarks, rather than from the heat which, so far today, isn’t too bad. The phone rings again and now I am taken from the room. I’m uncertain if I am more anxious or relieved. The sergeant shows me into a room with a large table and six men seated around one end of it. The Colonel is there, of course, as is the Major who left our waiting room with him. There is a one-star seated at the end of the table and three men in civilian clothes. The stakes seem to have been increased. I’m beginning to think I’m the one who has gone through the looking glass, I certainly don’t remember following a white rabbit with a watch.

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Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf by T D Aldoennetti on Wednesday, 10/29/2008 - 11:02 PM.(-0400), Air Force Sweetheart -- TacPzlSolGp Chapter 1 was revised and reposted on Tuesday, 12/01/2009 - 11:33 PM. (-0500), and now this retro classic series was pulled out of the closet, and re-presented for our newer readers to enjoy. ~Sephrena

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Chapter 01

 

As I look at the trees in the distance, wondering if they are hiding enemies who are about to visit an attack upon us, I watch the breezes moving the leaves and the clouds floating by overhead. I have been on active duty in the Army for a little over three years now, just prior to yet another escalation of the Vietnam war.

Straight out of ROTC and high school, I found myself rushing into Officer Candidate School which eventually yields the Army a brand-new Second Lieutenant destined for Advanced Intelligence training alongside numerous NCOs who seem to feel Second Lieutenants are barely above dirt in value. Can’t say as I blame them. After a few exams I find they have revised their opinion of at least this particular second looie, especially since I show them the respect many of them really deserve. That, and the fact that I aced the last four exams.

After we completed that training, I find most of my next three years of active duty have been spent here, not far outside Saigon, plying my trade, investigation and compilation of reports based upon information and photographs, accompanied by interpretations provided by yet others who have been trained for such duties, thus allowing us to provide support to Command. For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health… we are married to Command’s needs for ‘intelligence.’ It’s greatly overrated, generally speaking.

I frequently think back to high school and my careful facade which permitted me to pass through most of my schooling unmolested. That facade peeled away like layers off an onion during the physical training I received upon entry into the Army, my 190-pound frame reverting back to 125 to 130. At five foot ten inches this reveals my very slight and quite attractive silhouette. Whenever dressed, in uniform or civilian clothing, I wear loose-fitting tops in my attempt to continue to hide this, my figure.

In another attempt to sidetrack any interest in me by others, I learned to be careful not to be at the top of any of my classes, instead residing around the 80% to 90% level of expertise among my ‘peers.’ Yes, I was still considered to be ‘a brain’ but below the level sought out for distinction. I could easily have done better, but these past twelve years have taught me, if nothing else, how to effectively hide myself from public scrutiny. My recent advanced training was a departure from this strategy, since I needed to gain a little respect from those who were schooling with me. Big mistake on my part, I wound up tutoring nearly half the class.

As I was saying, someone who is not absolutely foremost among their peers is less noticed than is someone who is at the top of the class and who inserts himself into every conversation and event. That does not mean that a popular individual is more able to accomplish things than am I; it just means that they like to be the center of attention, and therefore highly scrutinized and vulnerable. These individuals are potentially good political fodder and probably eventual candidates for General. I preferred to hide in plain sight.

Our intelligence instructors cannot understand why I don’t initially do better in my classes since the tests taken on my entry to OCS reflect a much greater potential than that which they see as a result of my class work. I attempted to hide my abilities during that testing but somehow those first tests still found me out, at least partially. After some time, the instructors simply came to the conclusion that my high scores on the entry tests were a fluke, possibly attributed to a few lucky guesses here and there. But when I reached the second level of training and found that I needed to be more accepted by my peers, that is to say…, my fellow students, I had to come up with a different plan. I could originally have come up aces on their tests — they were that simple — but my self-discipline in camouflage — which allowed me to mislead others who might want to investigate my stature and its implications — was still working, well, almost working. Somehow, they still learned more about me than I had intended to allow. Anyway, I finally wound up heading off to Intelligence School, where I completed the training at somewhat better than 95%. I couldn’t help myself; it was fun, and I enjoyed it. Besides, the NCOs learned that I knew what I was talking about but didn’t lord it over them. When we were working on a problem we all we equal in rank. Whenever we solved a major problem they would forget my officer’s status and we were all just students together. It was great.

Even though I tried to do worse on the tests occasionally, it was difficult to allow myself to mess up on as many answers and opinions as I would have needed to do in order to remain completely unobtrusive. Again, I could have done a lot better but was dismayed that I did as well as I did, although I did intentionally Ace four tests in a row just to prove a point once. As a result of displaying this expertise I found myself promoted another grade and assigned to Intelligence in Saigon.

With a little time on my hands, I watch the trees and the clouds, glancing at my watch to see that I now have only twenty minutes before I must report to my duty station. I continue to watch the shapes continually appearing and disappearing as the clouds shift their form until there’s but eight minutes remaining, then I ‘bite the bullet’ and go inside. Once at my desk I immerse myself in the analytical processes necessary for an Army at war. Yes, it is a war, but the way we are fighting it isn’t like we are trying to win.

At every turn we come up against blockades erected to prevent us from taking the country by storm. The enemy has fielded many disguised combatants who appear to be the Vietnamese military personnel and civilians with whom we deal every day. But at night…, a grenade here or there yileds an explosion which was unanticipated, since this is a ‘secure’ zone, and…. Secure zone. As if.

While these events are demoralizing and kill the unsuspecting, military and civilian alike, they are not the worst blockades to our winning the war. The worst blockades are not constructed by the enemy, at least not in the normal sense. It’s frustrating to see all of the field reports sent in by people who are taking great risk to obtain the information and to forward it to us, reports which show supplies and personnel funneling into North Vietnam and Cambodia then crossing into South Vietnam to take lives and destroy our war materials. Supplies and personnel from the Communist nations who are supporting the other side in this war.

Frustrating, because I know nothing will be permitted to stop that flow where it really matters. We are often able to track a number of prominent enemy military leaders, and we know exactly where they will be, and when, but we are not allowed to go after them. What a weird way to fight a war, we are fighting to lose.

Just after the start of my second tour I am again promoted, now to Captain. My assignments change little and I find the field information to be more and more frustrating to read and analyze. I do my best and frequently forget myself, providing more insight into what is happening for the upper echelons.

I eventually discover that if I carefully phrase my reports, I can make them appear just important enough that we are allowed to attack that particular location in an effort to neutralize it, but carefully avoid specifying any greater importance present. In this way, we manage to eliminate a few key places or munitions dumps without the ever-present hand of the UN inhibiting our actions until the enemy is allowed to withdraw their people and supplies. Oh geez, I’m sorry. It turns out there was more there than I thought. Guess we didn’t comprehend quite as much as we could have from what we gleaned off the field information provided to us. We’re certain they will still be able to wage an effective war without that particular Colonel or, possibly, those specific supplies.

My reports are coming into greater demand and I find myself presenting my briefings more and more frequently at the Command level. This affords me less time to watch clouds as I am spending more time at my desk or in briefings. Nearing the end of this third tour I have just been put on the list for promotion to Major. Unheard of, since promotions don’t come that easily nor quickly. In fact the waiting list for promotions is quite long. After all, every promotion helps to increase the costs of the war. The only way a rapid promotion might occur without increasing those costs would, usually, be due to the rotation of a more senior individual or that individual’s ‘retirement’. We are having a lot of early ‘retirements’ over here. Normally, it’s the more junior personnel who are being ‘retired,’ most often permanently.

One day I am taking a little time after finishing a particularly long day which started about 0300 and has gone until 1800. The clouds are interesting and I am making my way to the Mess for supper. I feel the slight concussion of a distant ‘whump’ which occurs twice and in a few moments I see black smoke rising from somewhere well beyond the tree line. There has been yet another attack. We are unlikely to find anyone, as the enemy has become quite proficient at delayed attacks which allows them to be long gone before we learn they have been nearby. The very nerve of them, the smoke is obscuring my clouds and I am having difficulty seeing the shapes changing in them. If those shapes could somehow provide an advance warning might be nice. Everyone run if you see a saucer shaped cloud floating east. As if.

We have been receiving hints of the possibility of a new offensive plan by the enemy, and our field agents are attempting to gain details of this possibly impending offensive. All our information shows it is likely but still nearly eight months away. We begin planning for it in the event it comes to pass. More information is needed. Several of us send our requests for more information, any information, so we can make more accurate assessments. But the information is becoming more and more elusive, lending even greater credence to the likelihood that our intelligence is correct. Planning begins to go into high gear, but it’s difficult to plan when you don’t know where the attacks will be coming from, nor when they will begin.

My days continue into the monotony, with new information becoming more and more difficult to obtain. The enemy is intimidating many of our sources, who are beginning to cease providing us with information. Why would they do this? Well, if you have a family with two sons and a daughter and the enemy takes your sons as collateral for your continued good behavior, and threatens to come back and rape and then gut your daughter and your wife in front of you, if you lapse from their idea of perfection, what would you do? That’s what I thought. Don’t be ashamed, family comes first.

One of the most galling things I have had to learn is that there are many of the enemy right here in Saigon, people well-placed in the political community who are listening to our plans and providing intelligence to the other side as a matter of course. Today is my day off, if anyone can truly believe they have a day off during war. Let’s just say I’m supposed to rest today even though my mind is still hard at work. I lay back and watch my clouds, wondering where and when the next ‘whump’ will occur. The following day I am back at work, having seen a relatively peaceful day pass by. Their ‘mad’ bomber must have been sick yesterday or he ran out of explosives for a day or two.

A couple of hours and my third report into my day, I’m interrupted as a Captain walks into my space informing me verbally that I am to present myself Thursday at ‘Oh Eight hundred’ to a particular Colonel over at Command. I ask for a copy of the orders and am told this is a verbal order from that Colonel. No paper records will be made. This sounds strange to me. But then, knowing how the Intelligence community works, it is possible. I am told that my immediate superior has also been informed I will be gone that day. I check with him and find that, yes, he has been so informed.

He asks me, “What the H— is going on? What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into?”

“I don’t know, Sir. They haven’t told me anything except to report. I haven’t done anything I can think of. I haven’t even been out doing anything for over a month. It must have something to do with one of my briefings. Some General must want me to clarify something. It would certainly help if you could find out which reports they are interested in.”

He tells me he will do some checking and dismisses me. I put my brain into high gear and finish my reports well before noon, so I have time to begin reviewing the reports I’ve already presented to Command. There must be some hint in one of them to indicate what is going on. Later that afternoon, my superior calls me into his office.

“Captain, In the matter we were discussing this morning, you will present yourself as requested. No other materials are needed. End of inquiry. End of questions. Understand?”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you for trying, Sir.”

“Don’t mention it. I certainly won’t. And be careful over there. Something certainly has the bees stirred up in their bonnets. They don’t seem interested in receiving any questions from anyone about whatever it is. Be careful, Okay? Dismissed. And good luck.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

As Alice said, ‘Curiouser and Curiouser.’ She would probably have made a good analyst. I leave his office more confused and apprehensive than when I entered. Throughout the rest of the day I quickly complete the new tasks that had found their way onto my desk, which were added to my regular ‘assignments’ for the day, affording me at least a little time to examine my past reports until something else dropped into my ‘in-basket’ during the late afternoon. I’m slowly spooning the completed papers out to make it appear I am continuing to work on them, while I spend my real time reviewing the reports and presentations which had offered to Command during the past month and a half. I concentrate on those for which my presence was commanded or which were presented by me personally, rather than the ones which wound their way up through channels. I’ve found nothing to offer me the slightest hint of any subject which might be the topic for discussion at the impending meeting.

Much of the next day is spent in the same way with a little additional interruption by more fresh work which somehow finds its way onto my desk during the early afternoon. Most of the day I spend pouring over my old material continuing to try to make sense of my orders to report tomorrow, my clouds long forgotten. I wander down and obtain a cup of coffee, bringing it back to my desk only to realize I have two cold partially filled cups already sitting there. I don’t remember them. Shows what concentration can accomplish.

If the subject is something from one of my reports, I would have thought they would tell me what they might be interested in so I could refresh my thoughts, I’m no closer to understanding what is going on than I was when that Captain first told me to report. Just before ‘closing up shop’ for the evening, a thought manages to filter its way down through my frantic search. What if it’s something new? What if it has no relationship to any of my previous material at all?

Now I figure it out. Could have saved myself two days of anxiety. I eat at the Mess and go watch clouds, well, at least until the light is gone.

Early morning comes around and pries my eyes open. I am very nervous and this is turning out to be worse than my apprehension at being discovered those times when I went out with my sister to the movies at the mall. I vaguely remember eating breakfast, eventually finding myself at Command searching for that Colonel’s office, managing to report in about ten minutes early. I am sent to another room where I find a few more than a half dozen others who are also waiting. They all turn their heads and I see on their faces that they are as puzzled as am I. They want to know if I am the one who is going to bring light to this strange meeting. I go in and sit in one of the chairs and join them in their inward reflections.

During the next few minutes we gradually round out to an uneven fifteen. Everyone is studying everyone else. The uniforms are mixed. Some Navy, some Army, some Air Force, apparently personnel from a number of different units and a mix of officers and enlisted. There hasn’t been much talking and we have nothing in common that I can see. I begin to think there has been some mistake and I am being associated with some smuggling ring for whatever reason. I recognize no one. Maybe some sort of codes were in the field reports I had seen and I’d unwittingly passed the information on somehow.

We all come to attention as a Bird Colonel, two Majors, and a Sergeant walk into the room, passing us all, as they offer no respite for our collective anxieties during their progress to the front of the room. A sense of relief begins to slowly manifest itself as it usually does when someone finally is present to ‘get-the-show-on-the-road.’ Now maybe, we’ll all find out what the H— is going on.

The Colonel says, “Be at ease. Sit down, you may smoke if you like. I know you all have a thousand questions. Well, they’re not going to be answered in here. To put you all at ease, you are not here for any potential transgression you may or may not have committed at any time past, present or future. We have a need for an individual to undertake a rather unique and dangerous assignment.”

I really wish he had selected a more appropriate word with a little less finality in it, ‘pursue’ might have been my choice.

“You have all been selected as potential candidates because of certain ‘hidden’ qualifications you each possess. Those qualifications will be discussed in more detail privately, one individual at a time. There will be no talking between yourselves while waiting in this room or after the private interviews. The Major here” he indicated one of them, “will remain here to insure the first part. The fastest way to return to your own unit is to ask questions of others in this room, but you won’t be happy about it. You may ask me while I am still here but once I am out of the room, silence will prevail. Is this understood?”

A chorus of “Yes, Sir,” flies back at him.

“Now. We will interview each of you and upon the end of your interview you will either remain alone in another room until we have more to discuss or, you will be sent back to your unit. Those who are sent back will NOT discuss anything said here. Nor will you answer questions placed to you concerning this meeting. This is to be considered Top Secret -- Eyes Only and once you each know the nature of the information you will likely appreciate the classification. No notes may be taken by you and no word of any kind will be uttered concerning these meetings. Once you leave here, these meetings never occurred. Is that also understood?”

Again, “Yes, Sir,” fills the room.

“Very well. Major,” he addresses the same officer, “we will call you when we are ready for you to send us the first man. Sergeant, you will escort each man to our meeting room and then return here to await our request for delivery of another.”

“Yes, Sir.”

The Colonel and the other Major exit the room without another word.

Everyone glances at the Sergeant and I can’t help but notice he is packing a .45 on his hip. This whole thing is strange. I think about everything the Colonel has said and wonder what kind of dangerous assignment could exist which calls for one individual and which has brought together such a strange and diverse collection of men. What could we all possibly have in common? Here we have fifteen men who have been selected out of perhaps a hundred thousand or so presently in Vietnam, about one in ten thousand.

I notice a couple of the Army officers have unit designators from the European theater and not from Southeast Asia. That increases the number of potential candidates to several millions if I include the US. Now we have fifteen out of say, four million possible? That’s very low odds, roughly one in 250 thousand. This is becoming even more strange.

The phone rings and a few seconds later the first man is selected and the Sergeant takes him out of the room. We never see him again. This is almost like being a condemned man waiting for execution. Less than twenty minutes pass before the phone rings again. A second man is escorted from the room. This continues until there are only seven of us remaining.

Apprehension is running rampant with many of us sweating from the effort of considering the Colonel’s cryptic remarks rather than from the heat which, so far today, isn’t too bad. The phone rings again and now I am taken from the room. I’m uncertain if I am more anxious or relieved. The sergeant shows me into a room with a large table and six men seated around one end of it. The Colonel is there, of course, as is the Major who left our waiting room with him. There is a one-star seated at the end of the table and three men in civilian clothes. The stakes seem to have been increased. I’m beginning to think I’m the one who has gone through the looking glass, I certainly don’t remember following a white rabbit with a watch.

The Colonel begins, “Be seated, Captain. We have a number of questions and a few answers which we will share with you. I am not going to introduce anyone as you don’t need to know who they are. Anything said in this room stays in this room, understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I thought you might. Then again, you will probably be thankful this discussion will remain in this room once you understand the nature of the information to be discussed. As I mentioned during the get-acquainted briefing, we have a very dangerous and demanding assignment impending. A mission which cannot be entrusted to just anyone, as you will shortly understand. We have your intelligence file as well as the information gathered by the FBI before you were granted security clearances. In fact some of this information is what prompted us to request your presence at this little gathering.

None of this information is negative. That information did give us a little concern about granting you clearances but then, over time, you have proven yourself to be exemplary in your abilities and in your devotion to your county. While none of us fully understands some of the things we find there, we do realize they may be an asset which we now find may possibly be of a great value. Your sister is named Janet?”

My sister? What in the H– does she have to do with all this?

“Yes, Sir. Is she okay?”

He looks up and smiles at me, “As far as I know, she’s fine, Captain. That’s not what this is all about. I was just confirming you are the correct individual. Okay, let’s get down to the nitty gritty. We have reason to believe that you, on numerous occasions, accompanied her to various social functions back home during the years 1959 through 1964.”

“Yes, Sir. I frequently accompanied her. I am uncertain of the exact time frame but that sounds about right.” I think that this is a very unusual direction for this conversation to be taking.

“I see. As you may or may not have noted while waiting, everyone in that room is of a very slight build, almost feminine in stature.”

“I…. I hadn’t made note of it, Sir.” Thinking back, I realize that most of them had loose-fitting shirts, worn in the manner which I have adopted.

“Well, we did. Captain, we have a need for someone, as I stated earlier, and due to the nature of this assignment we cannot use certain individuals. We must, therefore, choose from the few who may have the ability to carry it off, hopefully without detection. We have extensive information about your capabilities with regard to this… ‘talent’ let us call it. Further, we more recently obtained additional information filling out your dossier concerning this talent of yours with specific answers gained from your mother and your sister.”

Now I am beginning to see the direction this is taking me.

“Sir. If you intend to court-martial me for something I did as a civilian, then why go to all these lengths?”

“Court-martial? No, this isn’t about a court-martial. We have a real mission with a real problem. We are asking for your help in solving that problem.”

“Then, Sir, may we cut to the chase? Yes, I accompanied my sister while I was dressed as a young female. I did it on many occasions and enjoyed doing it. If the Army had not inserted itself into my life, I would probably be doing it yet. Now, Sir, why are we here and what is this all about? I am not going to volunteer for something unless I understand more of what it is all about, Sir.”

Everyone at the table chuckles over my short dissertation.

One of the Civilians pipes up, “When you dressed as a female, were you any good at it?”

“No one ever suspected as far as I know. Then again, my sister and I would go places where most of our close friends were unlikely to be, so the chances of discovery were far lower. Someone obviously must have blown my cover since you have learned about it.”

“If we use you on this mission, the results of discovery could be fatal.”

“You think discovery back then wasn’t dangerous to my health?”

Just then the General chimes in, “Captain, we need a woman for this assignment. Unfortunately we cannot use one in a combat zone so the next best thing must happen. Some male who is feminine in appearance must take up the slack. The assignment is likely to last six months to a year and our individual cannot be anything but a woman during this time. The more feminine, the better. There will be times when that individual will be deep in enemy territory and will have no support whatsoever from friendly forces… How’s your French?”

I’m taken aback for a moment…. “My…, my French, Sir?”

“Yes. It says here that you are able to speak French,” as he looks through the folder, “among a number of other languages.”

“It’s passable, Sir. I couldn’t be mistaken for a native but at least I don’t have an American accent.”

“And your Vietnamese?”

“About the same, Sir. I have a bit of a French accent to the Vietnamese.”

He nods his head, “That’s good.”

He continues reading, “Cantonese?”

“Passable understanding, very poor speaking it, Sir.”

“What about Russian?”

“Moscow accent, Sir.”

He looks up at me, “Ever been there?”

“No, Sir. Old family friend taught it to me and my sister. He was from there.”

He nods his head again and continues reading.

“Captain, there would likely be six or seven trips of as little as four days and perhaps as long as five or six weeks for the longest one, deep into North Vietnam and possibly even China. You would be alone for that period of time and would be expected to use civilian transport to get around. Discovery, as I mentioned, could result in immediate death or long term incarceration as a spy. We intend to whittle down the fifteen of you to just three. Those three will be given the opportunity to prove how feminine you can be and then we will select just one to receive the whole enchilada. There will be no return from there back to manhood and during the six months to a year for this assignment you will be on duty as a female. In addition to your mission you will be also be married and when in Saigon you will be expected to act as any loving wife would. Cooking, cleaning, loving…. Need I say more?”

“No, Sir. That’s fairly explicit. After that year what happens to me? If I’m the one selected, of course.”

“We will alter the records of the selected individual to reflect the fact that she is a female officer and she will, in your particular case, be given a two-step increase in rank to Lieutenant Colonel with reassignment to Intelligence at the Pentagon, at least in the immediate future following completion of this assignment.”

“So if I accept, then the first step is a test of my abilities, followed by an irreversible change from male to female, and this assignment?”

“That seems to be an adequate summation.”

“May I have an hour to think about this, Sir? I may have more questions before I make my decision.”

“Certainly. An hour isn’t a long wait. We have others to talk to, so you will likely have a little longer than that.”

The Major gets up and goes to another door, opening it and attracting the attention of an NCO outside that door.

The General speaks up, “Sergeant, would you show the Captain to a private room and see that he is provided lunch and beverages? In fact, let’s all take a break, since it is nearly 1130. We will return to interview the others at 1300 after lunch. We’ll get back to you, Captain; and to the others whom we still have on hold after we finish the interviews of those we have not yet seen. By the way, can you dance?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Let me rephrase that. When disguised, are you able to dance without detection by your partner?”

“Oh! I understand, Sir. Yes, Sir. Waltz, a few of the recent dances, couple of the older ones. Yes, Sir, with a little practice so I can remember the steps.”

He nods his head and I am dismissed. The NCO looks at us like we’re crazy.

I am allowed to leave and the Sergeant is told to take me to one of the holding rooms where I’m to wait until they are ready to see me again. Once in the room I begin to pace. I have a lot to think about. How did they find out? From what the General and the Colonel were saying they knew before they began talking with Mom and Sis. Come on Charley, you’re the intelligence expert, do some simple logic. There were only about a dozen times during those years that we were in situations which pressed me to the limits. Those civilians look and act like agency. I wonder how they play in this little game?

Of course, one of the situations was the class play where I played the ‘female’ lead, the only Sophomore in the play. That was due to an accident and if I hadn’t accepted the role, the play would likely have been cancelled. No one said anything about thinking it strange of me for doing it. Not even after the pre-performance teaser we gave in the school auditorium a week prior to the start of the five nightly performances. We did it in full costume and makeup and after the teaser we were each introduced to the students using our real names. A quick request for applause for best performance is asked from the student body each year and I got the little trophy that particular year. It’s still at Mom’s on the desk in my old room. Even during the week following the teaser, no one bugged me about playing the female lead, of course some of the more senior girls might have been upset that they didn’t get the part, but I knew the lines and there simply wasn’t enough time for anyone else to learn the part. It’s possible someone might have remembered and mentioned that. I accompanied my sister out a number of times after that and we frequently met some of the girls from school who likely remembered me playing that part and put two and two together whenever they saw us, saw me, out in public. They didn’t give me a hard time in fact it was kind of nice, like I had been initiated into a Sorority of some kind.

The only other time which was likely a possible problem was during my sister’s wedding when I became one of the bridesmaids because a company transfer had removed one of the girls without warning. The gown fit me fairly well, so Mom and Sis begged me to do it and Mom altered the gown just a little so it fit fine. That was fun and I liked it. The only possible problem there being that one guy who tried hitting on me several times during the reception which followed. Janet still has photos of all the bridesmaids, including me, together with her at the reception.

We do look like sisters. I don’t recall anyone making any special note of me, except Tony and he’s the one who married Sis. Later, when Sis and Tony went to a few of his business parties where someone he knew had come into town for a few days, I was sometimes called upon to provide the role of a female escort for the occasion and then I faded back into the woodwork again. I don’t remember anything special from those times either.

No one ever struck me as having noticed I was anything but a normal female. No one asked for another date, nor would I have accepted. I had a plan ready to say that I had a boyfriend and wasn’t interested in any other relationships, but was “just helping out.” I never needed it, though. I don’t see anything which would have allowed anyone the opportunity to detect anything untoward, nor any particular reason to think that I wasn’t a regular girl.

After Janet married, I continued to dress and go out with Mom but I went out alone only a few times and don’t remember anything special happening which could have been memorable to anyone. Enough. I should be thinking about this possible future situation. The past may shape me, but the future is where the rubber hits the road. I look out the window but can’t see enough sky to watch the clouds while I think.

The chance to be female again is enticing. I really would like to do this, however, from what they are saying it will be permanent. Do I want that? Then too, I will be married for that year and again from what was said I will be expected to engage in the sexual activity normal to a young married couple. I don’t know if I could do that. I like the clothes and the way I am treated when female, but… Permanently to become a female? Of course the increase in grade would be great.

The Pentagon! Geez, I could like that, I think. Just enough rank to be taken seriously even though female. On the other hand I could never have children. I need to ask them about that. Maybe some of my sperm could be saved or maybe Janet could donate an egg or two so I could have children derived from my family. That might be nice. I need to ask about that as well.

Married. For real. As the woman. Will that marriage be annulled or will we be divorced after the year? I need to ask about that, too. Cripes, this is going to be a major change in my life if I go for it.

Ah, here’s lunch. “Thank you.”

“No problem, Sir.”

xxx

Sir…. Another thing I would need to become adjusted to. No longer Sir, but Ma’am. This sex thing has me bothered though. What if I don’t like it? What if I do??? Geez, this whole thing is making my wicky wacky, sorry, it’s driving me nuts. I wish I could talk with Mom and Sis. I also need to ask the general if I may talk with them. Clearances. Yeah, they probably won’t let me talk with them because this is a secret mission. I think Mom and Sis will be okay with my change. I’m not certain I will be. It’s fun when I know I can change back, but permanently?

Then the mission…. What could that be? They need a woman for the mission but they can’t send a woman into North Vietnam, nor to China. And alone? Obviously it’s some kind of spy mission. Who would ever suspect a woman? And why the questions about my French and Russian?

 

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To Be Continued…       © 2008, 2009 by T D Aldoennetti & Rènae Dùmas. This work may not be replicated or presented in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder) or her assigned representative. ALL Rights Reserved, including but not limited to ownership of Characters, final content decision, and more. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental. An Aldoennetti Original.