previously:

“To keep everyone interested and awake, I’ll offer them two short breaks of ten minutes during the lecture period. During normal days, the labs will be about three hours each following the intro hour in the lecture hall.” I was designing my class on the fly now.

“Remember, the first lab period is really two separate labs with half the students in each, as is the second lab period. Can the school arrange this for me?”

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Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf by T D Aldoennetti on Thu, 2008/11/06 - 7:10pm., Air Force Sweetheart -- TacPzlSolGp Chapter XX is revised and reposted on Tue, 2009/12/22 - 04:07 PM. ~Sephrena

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I wish I was a civilian:

Chapter 20

 

I decide I am going to wear civilian clothing starting right now. I change into a nice skirt, blouse and FLATS. Oh, that feels so much better. I was beginning to hurt and I’ve only twenty of the mild pain killer tablets. They provided me with ten of the knockout tablets, but I won’t be able to use them if I intend to remain aware of what I’m doing. I really don’t want to start any of them again, because I’ll be too dopey to teach.

Going out to the office again I corral the Specialist who said she is going to be in my class. I explain a few things and what I am going to expect from everyone.

“I’ll be reviewing everyone’s file and the school will let everyone know exactly when and where we will begin. There will be two labs each day following the lecture. The first day will be only in the lecture hall. The labs and partners will be assigned either that day or during the Monday morning lecture. There will be too many people for me to get around to individuals, so I will be checking groups, likely three or four in a group. Each person will be responsible for their own conclusions but you may discuss them with your partners. Any work which is duplicated between individuals will be grounds for that group to be broken apart and new partners assigned. We simply have too much to cover and too little time to cover it. Attendance will be Monday through Saturday with Sunday free. Pass the word. This will not be a slam dunk course. You will all be receiving a three year field study in just six weeks. It will be rough.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

I think that I’ve never heard such enthusiasm from someone who’s about to attempt a twelve mile run in the middle of the hottest desert available without a canteen or oasis nearby.

I’m not happy, not especially unhappy, but things could be a lot better for my class. I have the services of three shifts each of eight enlisted personnel who will make full-sized duplicates (or have them made) in only an hour or two at the most, of anything I might wish to have made available for my lectures or labs. They’ll also produce slides and other documentation I may need on demand, within a few hours, if possible.

If I decide I need something for the next day’s labs, the materials will be ready for distribution by the following morning. The main problem I’m still facing is that I just don’t have a specific direction in which to take them. I have a call in to the General, but haven’t received a return call yet. I’m beginning the class with material they’ve hopefully seen before, but I intend to use these to lead them into entirely different directions, overturning all their previous conclusions. I hope. I want them to see that there are a number of interpretations available from any set of data and it will be their responsibility to find the one correct path without it being spoon fed to them, which is what I suspect has been happening, given my memory of my own training.

I want them to THINK, not react. The first Saturday will likely burst a lot of bubbles. I have a final count of fifty attendees. Forty of these are students. That means I have five instructors available in each lab. I may put one instructor with each four students and I’ll float between the groups and labs.

The third week, I hope to start them with entirely new material, but the fifth and sixth weeks will be the true test. I want to give them fresh material to analyze, straight from the field.

I finally have my call back from the General and outline my ideas and needs to him. He likes it. Thank God, he likes it. He promises me fresh data about a week before I want to present it for my week three. It will be old material, but something which was actually field information, and shouldn’t be common knowledge yet. The fifth and sixth weeks, I’ll have my new data, fresh from Vietnam, which will be time-critical, and just begging for analysis.

They’ll never know what hit them. Except for the last two weeks, I’ll see the material before the students, and the instructors will see it at least the day before, but the students will have no warning. For the last two weeks, though, everyone will be living on the edge.

-o~O~o-

I receive my ride back to the mess hall at 1800 for my supper, after learning that two of the students haven’t yet returned from their leaves. Everyone was due back by 1500 so for the moment they are Missing and considered AWOL. I’ve asked that, if they arrive back before 2100, no charges will be placed and they will be informed that they report for start of class at 0800 tomorrow morning. If they come back after that, then it is up to the school commander’s judgement. “If they are slack in reporting then they may be slack in class and that could take down the whole class.”

The last few days I have been receiving stares from the few instructors who eat during the same meal hour. They have heard this will be no walk in the park. No one knows exactly where I’m going to take them, and now that the word is out, there’s a slight feeling of apprehension floating around both my students and the instructors. Rumors are rampant, ranging from secret CIA requirements to a special new intelligence unit about to be formed, and then on into exotic possibilities that bordered on the ridiculous.

That I’m dressed in civilian clothing may be part of it. Everyone is accustomed to uniformed personnel giving the lectures and conducting the labs and exams.

They understand the chain of command. No one is quite certain what to expect from a ‘civilian’ even if she does hold the rank of Colonel. Then too, who ever heard of a Colonel conducting a class? Captains maybe, sometimes a Major, but a full Colonel? Something’s up and no one knows what. The instructors have tried to get information out of the school commander and he’s not talking.

Someone discovered I have three teams of eight enlisted personnel just to prepare the materials with which we are going to be working. The instructors are looking at this appropriation of manpower with some apprehension, considering that they usually share one team of eight or ten, while I’ve commandeered three teams, totaling twenty-four individuals. What material could be so important and require such rapid preparation for use that it requires that many people and around-the-clock shifts?

As I mentioned, rumors are rampant. Expectation is building, because tomorrow some of the questions will begin to be answered as I start the class (on a Saturday). That has people scratching their heads as well. Two labs operating simultaneously? And twice a day, six days a week? This is indeed a ‘crash’ course, and now no one believes it will be a slam dunk.

The Base exchange has sold three times as many paper pads and pencils as usual during the last four days, and the school staff has announced that they will provide twice as many as is normal for the usual courses, to help the students in this particular course. Even my enthusiastic young specialist tries to pretend she does not see me when I go through the lobby while on my way in or out of my room.

One good thing so far, is that all this planning is keeping me moving, so I’m walking a lot better now, and my health is rapidly improving. I think during week three I’ll begin to practice walking in heels again, and maybe wear my uniform for weeks five and six. I hope that regulation dress heels won’t cause me any problems by then.

I finish my supper, which was pretty good. Meals have been improving steadily during the past few days, not quite on a par with the hospital but quite good, especially if one considers how bad they were just a few weeks ago. On a scale of one to ten, we have gone from one to about a seven in just a few weeks. I miss the quick cakes and ask about them. They’re coming, just another couple of weeks.

The concentration now is on making the main dishes as good as possible. I point out that once in a while people just need a little treat. The quick cakes would be a nice surprise every now and then, even if they didn’t repeat for a number of weeks.

Wherever I go now, silence suddenly greets me. I suppose school tomorrow will be interesting. I walk to my quarters, shower, and turn in after reviewing my sketchy lesson plan once more.

-o~O~o-

I’m up about six. By 0700 I have dressed with my hair in a pony-tail (keep them guessing) and I’m just arriving at the mess hall for breakfast. I roar through breakfast and am back at BOQ ready for my 0740 ride to the school, briefcase in hand. My presentations team and I do a quick paper rehearsal of my lecture and slides presentation before I go to await my students.

I begin writing notes onto the chalkboard and, when finished, lower the screen to cover my notes. A few of the students and faculty have arrived and taken seats with the rest pouring into the lecture hall just a few minutes before 0800. Everyone seems to have at least a dozen pencils and a pad or two of paper with them. This class is much different than anything they have encountered and it hasn’t even begun. I do a quick head count and come up one short.

“As we seem to be missing someone, I am going to call names. Answer ‘Here,’ when your name is called. One more thing, during my course, no attention will be paid to rank by anyone. Officers and enlisted will refrain from the use of military protocols while in my lecture hall or my labs, except as a requirement of the lab exercise itself. We don’t have the time to waste during classes. You’ve all found yourselves in here, rather than off on some assignment in the field, because we hope to make superior analysts out of you.”

I look around the room, trying to make eye contact with each student. “This takes brainwork rather than reaction. The first part of your training is to use your brains first, rather than your preconceptions and instincts, and the first lesson will be this disregard of rank, only while in class, because these distinctions encourage deference and compliance on the one hand and, if not arrogance, then an assertive imposition of a single point of view. The moment you are outside this room, or the labs, then rank again applies. I hope you understand.”

I call the names and finally finish with one missing student. Apparently one of the two made it back in time. I immediately launch into my lecture. The lights dim to a level permitting notes but keeping the screen in the dark to allow easy viewing.

Slides begin appearing on the screen. I walk the class through each of the slides providing them with details and field operatives speculations.

After the first twenty slides, the nature of my lecture turns toward the possible meanings of each and the overlap of collected data despite the differences in time of collection. We move on to a new set of slides and more field operations details and speculations. Again we examine the possible overlaps and meanings. Now we are into set three. We follow the same pattern and, when completed, I indicate to the operator that he can shut down the projector and the lights are turned all the way up again.

Now we move into analysis. Within each of the three sets of slides are specific regions which were examined on three different days, but at identical times. We’re thereby offered the opportunity to observe changes, and hopefully to see a pattern in the information that’s been collected. The surface patterns are readily observed and I ask everyone to date and title a single page of paper to include their name and the title, ‘Thunder One.’

“Each of you will explain in about ten sentences exactly what the most obvious pattern provided by the data consists of, and what your recommendation would be as to the best response to neutralize it. The second ten sentences will do the same for any underlying pattern and another ten sentences for the pattern under that and so on until you have each found your way through however many patterns you perceive. Use extra sheets of paper if necessary. Each sheet will be titled similarly, but will be numbered as page one of however many, page two of however many and so on. You have twenty minutes to complete this and turn in your papers. Begin.”

I see ninety-four pairs of eyes watching me, than blink and swivel down to the papers as creative minds begin to guide hands in writing. I look around the room and note that two of the instructors are just sitting there. I turn toward the chalkboard and say, loudly enough that they will hear me, “School instructors are not exempt from this requirement. If they wish to continue in my class they will also need to prepare their papers in the same manner as the other students.”

I finish writing some more notes on the chalkboard and when I turn around again everyone is busy. I lower the screen into place, covering my notes once again.

“Two minutes remain.”

“One minute remains.”

“STOP. Turn in your papers. Don’t worry if you haven’t finished, this isn’t a race. I simply want to see how many of you are looking at the entire picture versus the surface one.”

Three of my assigned assistants collect the papers and then I call a ten minute break.

While everyone is taking their break, I flash through the papers. Everyone saw the first and second layers although some identified layer two as three and vice versa.

Most saw the third layer. A few suspected or saw a fourth layer and one thought there were six layers in the information. That individual presented strong arguments for her conclusions. She failed to note that her layer six and her layer four were different ways of saying the same thing, but she did find five, however weak the fifth argument happened to be.

Everyone is filing back in and taking their seats. They look exhausted. Well, mental gymnastics can do that to you.

“Welcome back to Intellectual Hell. Now are you ready for the bad news?”

Everyone’s eyes are riveted on me, “One of you mistakenly identified six layers. No, I won’t disclose who any of you are. Anyway that one individual actually identified their layer four twice. There are actually eight perceivable layers but from the information presented to you there is no way to know that. You’d need a couple of months of background information in order to begin to identify all of the layers. Again that one individual did correctly identify five layers, however weak the argument for the fifth. The argument was weak, not because of poor logic, but because there was insufficient information presented to justify a stronger judgement. Everyone found the first and either the second or third layer and presented a strong argument for them.

Many of you found the first three and a few the first four. It is my hope by the end of this six week class, to have all of you thinking at least four layers deep in everything you examine. Get out your pencils and tablets again, since we are about to initiate ‘Thunder Two.’”

I give them a half minute to prepare and the lights dim again and we are off. Four sets of slides, new data with more complicated overlaps or missing pieces which they’ll have fill in from what they know. The time frame for each set of slides is now not just a day within a set, but a week, such that the collection of data for a set of slides did not all occur on one day but over a week. This complicates things a bit, since many objects seen in one slide may have been moved and can be seen again in another from the same set due to the time expansion. With six new complications they must still find and argue the layers and make recommendations.

“Begin.”

This time there is no one sitting around. The instructors are charging into the data just as hard as the students. I have given them half an hour for this one.

I count down the last few minutes, both to put the pressure on and to let them know that they have to start finalizing their appraisals. “Five minutes remain.”

“One minute remains.”

“STOP.”

Again the papers are collected. This time there is no break. The screen rises and they see the notes on the chalkboard. I see a few stunned faces as suddenly the notes and that which they were just doing fall into place. They’ve just performed an analysis of an actual attack which went undetected, due to poor intelligence work prior to the offensive, until it actually went forward in ‘65, and which resulted in a high number of casualties on our side.

“Have you all viewed the notes? Just raise your hand for yes.”

All the hands raise.

“Do you all see what happened due to poor analysis?”

Again the hands raise.

“Now. Here comes the hard part. Here and now, in front of everyone in the class, how many of you actually discovered, properly analyzed and recommended correct action based upon what you were shown. Remember I recognize each of you and I will read your papers so if you are not truthful now before your classmates, I will single you out Monday. Now, how many made the correct analysis and recommendations?”

No hands go up.

“This means there were over 3,000 deaths because you failed to properly analyze the available data and make the necessary recommendations. I don’t want you to learn to err on the side of prudence or timidity. I want you to learn that, if you believe you have detected something, then you must say so. Command needs to know everything you suspect, based upon the data you’ve examined. They need to know how accurate you believe your assessment to be, on a percentage basis. If you’re 100% certain, then you made a mistake somewhere. If you’re 10% certain then you’re in the wrong business. Today’s presentation was designed to shake you up, and get you out of any complacent attitude you happen to be in, if any. Today was your introduction to Intellectual Hell. Monday, we start going after demons.”

I stand for a brief moment, surveying their expressions and demeanor, then say, “Dismissed.”

I watch everyone file out. The sort of talking which usually occurs at the end of a class is almost non-existent. The instructors look about as pale as the students. The young specialist from the BOQ office, who also happened to be the one who saw five layers, walks down to me.

“That was an interesting class, Ma’am. Much more interesting. You really get me to thinking. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I hope you’ll enjoy the rest of them. As I said, Monday we start going after demons.” I wink at her and she smiles, then rushes out through the doors to catch up with some of her fellow students.

-o~O~o-

Lunch was quite good and I spend a little time walking to try to keep up the exercise the doctors feel I need. I still tire but am making great strides (no pun intended) now that I’m out of the hospital. Returning to my room to rest, after purchasing a book to read later, I drag out the ‘Thunder Two’ papers and look them over. A little more disappointing, only three saw the holes left by the missing information and surmised what must be missing accurately, thereby filling the gaps. My young specialist was not among them. I’ll address that Monday so that they’ll all realize that sometimes there isn’t enough information, and you have to base your decisions not on what’s there, but on what’s not. I begin planning changes to my lecture as I am reading my new romance novel.

About six chapters in I glance up at the clock and discover it is time for supper. In fact I am five minutes into my window of opportunity. I grab a sweater, throwing it over my shoulders, and walk to the mess hall. As I enter the room it suddenly becomes more subdued, conversations which had been at full voice now mere whispers. I ignore it and continue to a table where I await my turn at a meal.

“May I sit here?”

I look up and see a Major, whom I seem to remember was sitting up near the back row of my lecture hall.

“Be my guest. It’s still a free country.” I smile, to show him that I wasn’t being sarcastic.

He sits down just as the young man who is bringing his meal begins to search for him, having found an empty table where the Major had previously been seated.

“That was an interesting session today,” the Major said.

“So I’ve been told.”

“Your approach to analysis is somewhat different from what many of us have experienced.”

“The proof is in the pudding, I believe. My methods produce accurate and frequent results, so I find it to be workable.”

“The interests of the students might be best served by a slightly more traditional approach, don’t you think?”

“And what of the interests of those whose lives depend on the accurate production of analysis by those students?”

“Well, those too.”

“Then my method appears to be of more importance, since it yields greater accuracy, and more frequent and timely results in protecting those lives.”

“I don’t mean to belittle your methods, Colonel. We’re just concerned that you are undermining everything these students have been taught thus far.”

“Major, the job of you instructors was to teach these students to use their minds and to apply their skills to the mountain of information which is going to come at them. Your job was to show them how to make decisions and to make them wisely, and you’ve all done a wonderful job at that.”

I paused, to let the compliment sink in. “You’ve taken them through high school and the first four years of college with admirable results. I see your good influence in the excellent papers which I collected today.” I nodded to him, in courteous recognition and appreciation.

“But it’s my job now to add to their individual curricula a new set of skills in teamwork and concentration. We’ll take the broad knowledge and aptitudes gained during their baccalaureate and turn them into Masters, concentrating on their special gifts and interests and honing the skills they’re best at, as well as learning to take the long view, a process that would otherwise take place only under fire, hopefully before they get someone killed during their attempts to learn. My approach, first and foremost, is to get them to realize that not all Intel is going to appear magically before them, carefully arranged in a self-contained class project, so that they can quickly assemble that information into a neatly-typed report for Command within a pre-alloted time.”

Ah, I see heads looking up from notebooks around the mess hall, where I can see that some of my students are seated for their meals. Some of them are already chafing under the standard classroom assumptions, as I did back when I was taking classes. “A master of this trade has to understand that information given to them months, perhaps even years, earlier may be pertinent to the present situation. Therefore, it plays a part in that analysis. They must learn to look at the overall picture and consider many months of past data even as they add the new. This is the broad view that generates better Intel out the door than what came in, and ultimately saves lives. Our examination of the failed analysis of that ‘65 offensive is the proof of that, and a cautionary tale. Information loves company; it can’t be properly examined in isolation, much less resolved.”

He retorts, “We understand that. We just feel you’re being a little hard on the students. Perhaps a lighter hand could yield better results?”

“Major, if you don’t like my methods, then please feel free to remove yourself from my course. I have six weeks to turn these students into the saviors of other soldiers who are placing their lives on the battle line every day. I’m not conducting an academic exercise. Perhaps, if you were to spend more time in the field, you might begin to appreciate the difference between a simple discussion and the need to save lives. You might tell any others who are similarly concerned that they no longer need to attend my course.” I look round the hall, making eye contact with as many of my students as possible. No sense letting the rumor mill go to waste, since this Major had picked a public quarrel.

“I didn’t ask for this assignment, I was ordered to do it by a two-star general. He told me to do it any way I see fit, and so informed the commander of this school. I will continue my present approach and effort to make masters of Intel out of these students entrusted to my care, with or without the support of the rest of the school staff. The methods I’m teaching work and work very well in the field. It’s time for these students to wake up and discover that their job is to save lives, not debate whether or not Brutus inflicted the fatal knife blow upon Caesar. Now, if you don’t mind, my supper has arrived and I’m hungry.”

-o~O~o-

That night, after I watched the news — disgusting by the way — I drag out my ‘thing’ for another session. It goes well until it is time to remove it only to find it comes out covered in blood. Needless to say, I’m now in a panic. I clean it and myself and note there is still a little blood appearing but there IS blood and I am frightened. I call the lobby and ask for a car immediately after calling my doctor.

The response from those at the hospital who take the call is ‘call us in the morning or go to emergency.’

I explain that I have been instructed by the doctor to call him day or night due to the delicate nature of the surgeries I have received. I am bleeding and he is likely not to be very understanding if he is not immediately notified. They take my number and say they will contact him. A few minutes later I have again mopped away a little blood. It is a slow but moderately continuous flow. The phone rings and it is my doctor. I explain everything and he tells me to meet him at the hospital in thirty minutes. I am in the car and rushing to the hospital shortly thereafter. He arrived moments before I did, and we go into an emergency cubicle so he can examine me.

He starts asking about cramps and flu-like symptoms and I say, “not really, concerning the cramps, but yes to the flu, a little rough, but I’ve had worse, so I ignored it.”

“Slight elevation of temperature. Heartbeat good. The blood is the right colour. This is all good.” He smiles at me.

Now I’m really confused. My doctor’s gone off the deep end. “It’s good that I’m bleeding?”

He visibly relaxes and smiles at me, “You’re on your period.”

“MY WHAT? What’s a per…. Geez, you might as well kill a girl as scare her to… death….” I seem to remember something about this from Mom and Sis. Oh. Now I remember. When Sis first started hers, she thought she was dying.

“So this is something which sneaks up on women in order to frighten them to death each month, right?”

“Not at all. It’s part of your ability to produce children.”

Now that shuts me up right away.

“With your uterus functioning properly now, assuming that you settle down to go through this each month, then the possibility of us implanting an embryo, that’s a fertilized egg, into your uterus, and having it accepted and allowed to grow to maturity, has just been exponentially increased. I’d say that you’re now a functional female. All that you’re lacking are fully-functioning ovaries, and perhaps donor ovaries could be implanted, if it becomes necessary, as soon as a suitable donor is located. I believe you mentioned your mother, although we’d need tests to decide whether that would be possible.”

He smiled again. “In the meantime, you’ll probably settle down to having a ‘period’ for a few days roughly every four weeks. Your uterus is evidently functioning normally, and your ovaries are functioning well enough that they’re participating in the cascade of interacting hormones that stimulates the endometrium — the lining of your uterus — to thicken in preparation for pregnancy. Because no pregnancy has occurred, other hormones cause that excess lining to be shed in a normal menstrual flow. Congratulations, you’re a woman now, and this is one of the prices of womanhood which you will learn to endure.”

I’m not an entirely happy camper yet, but the more this news sinks in, I’m beginning to be ecstatic. “When could the ovaries be implanted?”

“Any time after your next period.”

“Wow!” I’m amazed and happy at the thought of someday mating with my husband and producing a child with nearly all the sensations a woman would experience. I could feel the baby moving in me and watch as I grow to give it room. I would need to eat properly so it would be born healthy. “Wow!”

He smiles, “It is nice, isn’t it?”

“Wow.”

“Can’t you say anything else than ‘Wow?’ ”

Nodding my head up and down, I slowly look up at him standing there, my hand still on my tummy and a look of happy amazement on my face. I slowly get down off the table and wrap my arms around him. “Wow. Thank you.”

I’m slowly gathering my things, so he goes out to let me dress. When I come out, I feel like a light has been turned on within me and I’m glowing. He takes a look at me and smiles, nodding his head up and down.

I walk over as he points at the door, “You don’t need to stay here. You can go back. I would advise you to buy some panty liners though, otherwise you might need to be getting a lot of new underwear.”

In a daze, I nod my head in understanding. “Wow,” escapes my lips once more.

He chuckles, “Go on, get out of here.”

I walk to the door and out with my thoughts swirling around me. I don’t remember finding the car, nor riding back to the BOQ, but somehow I realize that I’m back in my room searching for those few tampons I tucked away from when Mom, Sis and I went out to supper and dancing. That’s it, they’re in that purse….

Finally I have one in my hand and, after some trial and error, manage to insert it. I clean up and go back to bed to sleep for the two hours remaining to me.

Dreams assail me in the form of tiny kicks against my tummy from within. When I wake up during the night, I find that my hand is cradling my tummy, as if feeling for something which I wish were there even now. I go back to sleep with a smile on my face.

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To Be Continued….       © 2008, 2009 by T D Aldoennetti & Rénae Dúmas. 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.