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Air Force Sweetheart
TacPzlSolGp Chapter 25/34
by T. D. Aldoennetti
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Previously:
“Uncle Phillip, may I stay with you and Aunt Julie for a few days? I don’t think it will be safe for me here.”
He thinks for a moment and then nods his acceptance. I limp off to pack a few things as he turns back to direct the activities of the military and civilian police buzzing around in front of him.
Why is it that I seem to attract these types? Do I have a sign on my back or something? ‘Neanderthals apply here….’ Surely there can’t be that many out there.
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Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf by T D Aldoennetti on Thu, 2008/11/20 - 9:51pm, Air Force Sweetheart -- TacPzlSolGp Chapter 25 is revised and reposted on Sun, 2009/12/27 - 02:28 PM. ~Sephrena
The blame game:
Chapter 25
That evening at their house, I tell my story. “Uncle Phillip, the idiot to whom I was ‘married’ is a Neanderthal. You know, all brawn and very little brain. He didn’t seem like that when I met him in the States but now, his idea of sex is to stuff it in me as hard and as fast as he can, as often as he can. He has absolutely no consideration for my feelings. I told Aunt Julie about the beatings each time they happened until I was finally forced to fight back. Look at what he’s done to me.”
I strip down to my skirt right in front of him and let him see the bruises and teeth marks all over my midriff and arms, received over the weeks from the punches and bites, There are three shallow knife slashes visible as well.
“How much more do you need to see, Uncle Phillip. Do you want me to drop my skirt and lower my panties?”
He isn’t happy. Aunt Julie has always taken my side, but evidently hasn’t passed on all of what I told her. So Uncle Phillip sees all that I’ve been going through for the first time.
Aunt Julie speaks up. “Phillip, I want to adopt her now. I don’t want to wait any longer. Since she put him in the hospital, even if it was in self defense, you know what he’ll be like when he gets out. I want her to be our daughter before then. Then we might have more influence, and may be able help her. She’s more a daughter to us than our own, just as she’s been more a niece than our own. Make this happen now!”
“Okay, Okay. Easy, Julie, easy. I agree. Lucy, what do you say?”
“You…, you want to adopt me? I could be your daughter? I’d like that. If I survive the next seven months with this pig then I’m going to divorce him. I don’t want it annulled. I want a divorce. I want to send a message that lets other women know he isn’t worth marrying. He gets out of the hospital Friday. If he starts in on me again I’ll put him in the hospital again unless he shoots me or something.”
“Phillip, how quickly can we adopt her?”
“Tomorrow. I have all the paperwork ready and everyone knows. We just need to sign it and turn it in and in a day it will be a done deal. That gives me a day to go have a talk with Mr. Problem and with his controller. If he gives you any grief, then he’ll answer to me…, after you finish with him of course.”
“I don’t know if I’ll have a chance. As they took him away to the hospital, he made it clear that to me that I was going to have an ‘accident,’ one from which I wouldn’t recover. He needs to be castrated.”
“Lucy, I’m going to take care of this son-of-a-bitch. Oh…. Sorry, Julie.”
Aunt Julie’s lips were tight with barely-repressed anger. “I agree with you, Phillip.”
“Me too.” I add. “I have broken teeth. There’s blood in my urine. I think I have a broken rib. He’s inflicted a lot of injuries on me. No mission is worth this crap. I didn’t become a woman so someone could beat me up all the time. I did it to help my country. Pigs like him don’t deserve to live with real people in our country. I have trouble breathing and I’m worried that his beatings may have caused some permanent harm. I want to go to the hospital for help but I’m frightened of him and his other Agency pals. He’s told me before that if I ‘did anything’ they’d ‘take care of me.’ I don’t think he means they will help me.”
“Let’s go get the rest of your things. You’re moving it all in with us, tonight.”
“You’d better have a few armed soldiers go with us. He has a pistol with a silencer on it, so his buddies probably do too.”
I have never seen Uncle Phillip so angry. We go to the house taking three MP’s armed with rifles with us and an AP officer. Everything I have in the house is removed and taken over to Uncle Phillip and Aunt Julie’s home. I have moved back into the spare room. Aunt Julie comes in and wants to see all of the injuries.
As I undress she grimaces at all the bruises and cuts on me. She touches my side but the pain is so bad that I recoil from her hand.
“That’s where I think I have a broken rib. I just went to the bathroom again and still have blood in my urine. If it’s still there in the morning, maybe I’d better go to the hospital.”
-o~O~o-
It was and I do. Aunt Julie accompanied me, as did two MP’s, as soon as she told Uncle Phillip.
The doctors examine me and take X-rays. I don’t have a broken rib, I have two broken ribs. They’re worried about my spleen, liver and kidneys. The X-rays of my mouth show three broken teeth and four that are cracked, along with a hairline fracture of my jaw. The doctor’s are preparing a medical evidence report for possible charges against my husband, but I tell them that they’d better talk with Uncle Phillip first. I don’t know how far the Agency will allow us to take this.
-o~O~o-
Uncle Phillip has filed the paperwork for my adoption and it’s nearly a done deal.
In view of my problems, Uncle Phillip tells me that they’ve promised to complete the formalities by this afternoon. The doctors have given me a sedative, so I can rest, but I still wake up shrieking even through the sedative. The nurses are very sympathetic. The poor MP’s who are protecting me rush in each time they hear me screaming only to find I’m still nearly asleep and am reacting to the nightmare of being beaten. How can I ever get married again, if I ever find a man I like? Who could I ever trust?
-o~O~o-
That pig has long since departed the hospital and I’m still in. They say it will be another week. That’s exactly what they said two weeks ago. My spleen is improving, as are my liver and kidneys, I’ve had several operations on my teeth and jaw. The broken ribs were removed, since they were broken in several places and the doctors thought they might puncture a lung, even when strapped into relative immobility. So I’m missing one rib on each side down low. They think that I’ll be nearly as good as new in a few months, physically that is. I still wake up screaming.
-o~O~o-
One afternoon, a ‘new’ orderly comes into the room and I begin screaming for help even as he’s entering through the door, “It’s him. It’s him. HELP ME.”
The MP’s attack quickly and manage to subdue him before he can do quite as much as he’d wanted to do.
They took a silenced pistol away from him in the struggle. He was trying to kill me even as they fought him. One bullet lodged in the wall just above my bed, and another just missed one of the MPs before exiting the room by putting a hole in the door. I found out later that it had narrowly missed a doctor as he was walking by, and finally lodged in the wall across the hall.
-o~O~o-
Father is called…. Oh, yes I’m adopted now…. Father is called, and he and those men who were in the meeting come to the hospital. They take the pig away but Father won’t let them have the pistol.
The men look like they’re considering taking it anyway, but the MP’s tell them, “Try it boys. We need a reason. Anybody who could do that to a woman doesn’t deserve to live. You’d better ship that piece of shit out of country, because if any of us see him again it will be shoot on sight.” The agents don’t seem to be very impressed.
-o~O~o-
Another week goes by and I’m finally home (at Mom and Dad’s).
I still have difficulty sleeping. If a man says something to me unexpectedly, I recoil from him before I can control myself. The creep’s mission has been a total failure, whatever it really was, although I thought that mine came out all right, what little there was of it anyway. The Agency blames me, the Army blames the Agency operative, and they, at least, are trying to bring charges against him.
Mom and Dad are about to return to the USA.
They’re taking me with them.
-o~O~o-
Father arranges for me to have a week’s leave so I can visit Mom and Sis, then I’m due to report to him in Washington. I ask him if he and Mom will please come visit my other Mom and my sister. They say that they’ll try to drop by for an hour or two. I ship almost everything back with Mom and Dad’s hold baggage so it will arrive in DC more likely intact. What little I have with me is enough until then. Finally, we fly back to the States, parting company in California.
Mom and Dad still say they’ll try to come visit.
-o~O~o-
My second night at home with my real Mom, I wake up screaming. It scared the daylights out of her. We sit up for a couple of hours as I explain. She’s looking forward to meeting Phillip and Julie, I hope they make it.
The next night, I wake up again, but this time she knows about the problem and we just sit for about twenty minutes until I calm down. Sis hears about it from Mom and wants me to tell her all the gruesome details. That takes about four hours.
She tells me that I should get a gun, “You’ve been trained to use them and the problem is one that argues for a concealed carry permit.”
“I don’t know. If he tries something, I wouldn’t have time to use one anyway.” The idea continues to float in my head, though.
-o~O~o-
Phillip and Julie drop by suddenly one morning and I introduce everyone. It’s sort of a “Mom, meet Mom” situation.
They hit it off great. We call Sis and she rushes over to meet them too.
‘Happy Too,’ one of the two Golden Retriever puppies Sis found for Mom right after I left for my surgery, follows Dad around and repeatedly puts his head under Dad’s hand to beg for pets and scratches.
Sneezy is quieter, and is often content to lean against Mom’s legs, but sometimes snuggles with Janet or me. The two dogs play together too, and are very enthusiastic, which is to be expected since they’re so young, not quite a year.
Mom and Dad give me our new address, not far from DC so, I can find them. Dad tells me that if I find the house and see them the day I’m due to report, then he’ll consider my presence to be report enough. We’ll go to work together the following day. That will give me a day to arrange my room. Our hold baggage isn’t due for about six weeks. He gives me a $1500 cash allotment for more clothes since I’ll need something until the rest of my stuff arrives.
“We’ll be going to three or four functions before the hold baggage comes in,” he says, “and you’ll need some gowns and things in the meantime.”
They say they have to go and I kiss them both.
Mom hugs Mom, “Thanks for taking care of our little girl.”
“My pleasure. You did a good job raising her.”
After they leave, I feel a hole in my heart but I will be seeing them again soon.
-o~O~o-
With the essential failure of the mission as a whole, my rank reverted back to Major. I’ve been working with Father here in DC now these past six months.
Perhaps I’ll be promoted in a few years and wind up with some other assignment, but right now it’s interesting and Father is using my Intelligence talents. The memories of the creep are still fresh even after all this time. I’ve almost gained enough courage to have my own place again. I hate to continue to live with Mom and Dad, but that idiot ruined my life so badly that, so far, I’m not certain if I could live alone.
I certainly couldn’t live with a man. I still want children, but it would be too difficult without a husband. I continue to wake up at night screaming. It doesn’t happen as often and it’s not as loud as it was, but it still occurs. That’s part of the reason I want to get my own place, as soon as I can handle it, so Mom and Dad can have some peace.
-o~O~o-
There’s an Air Force Lieutenant Colonel working down the hall from Father’s offices. I wind up doing work which takes me down there fairly frequently, and we work together on some projects, but I have yet to decide if that’s good or bad in the grand scheme of things.
I’ve reached the point where I no longer recoil if he says hello to me. That doesn’t, however, prevent me from jumping when some other man says anything and it takes me by surprise. He has a nice face and kind eyes. I could like him, I think, if I wasn’t so afraid of the possibilities.
During one of our brainstorming sessions, he tells me his name, “We can’t keep saying Lieutenant Colonel Scott and Major Jackson; it takes up too much time. My name is Randolf.”
“Mine is Lucy,” I answer.
“Nice name,” he says, smiling.
-o~O~o-
I’m down in the cafeteria one day after finishing work, just waiting for Father to finish so we can ride home together. He’s running late and I’m considering letting his secretary know that he needs to get home, since he and Mom are going out this evening.
While sitting there, sipping my coffee, I notice the creep, with two of his cronies, sitting at another table across the room. Fear nearly paralyzes me. He sees me too. There’s still hate in his eyes so I guess he still beats on women. He comes over and smirks at me. I ask him if he has killed any women lately. He uses his hand like it’s a pistol pointed at me, then jerks it as if he's firing it.
The Lieutenant Colonel (Randolf) is eating at a nearby table with some friends and sees that move. He comes over and suggests the pig and his buddies should walk out while they still can. He motions to some of the guys who were sitting at the same table with him, and they and the men from the table next to them immediately crowd over, outnumbering the Neanderthal and his buddies by almost three to one. The operatives leave without a word, but Mr. Problem makes the same threatening gesture with his hand.
“What was that all about?” Randolf asks me, while his friends are still crowded around us.
“I was his cover ‘wife’ for an assignment about a year ago. It was supposed to be for ten months, but he beat me so many times in the first five that I almost died. He was supposed to be prosecuted, but someone in his agency got the charges dropped. I still wake up at night screaming. I spent five weeks in the hospital with spleen, liver and kidney problems, two broken ribs which had to be removed, a fractured jaw and assorted broken or cracked teeth. It was nearly another six months before my body functions were back almost to normal. He likes to beat up women.”
The muscles in Randolph’ jaw work for a moment, then he says, “If he comes around again, tell me. I’ll have him removed, forcibly I hope.”
“I’m a third degree black-belt,” I say, not that it mattered. “I finally hospitalized him, but I didn’t do it soon enough, since I was trying to complete our missions successfully. You’d better watch out for him, though; he carries a silenced automatic. He tried to kill me with it while I was in the hospital but Father’s MPs stopped him.”
“Father’s MPs?”
“Yes, General Pendleton is my father.” That causes a minor stir among the men standing there.
“Then I’m sorry they didn’t kill him.”
“So am I. He ruined my life. It’s been nearly a year and I still wake up at night screaming. I can’t date, because I’m afraid that I’ll wind up with a man who is only nice until we’re married, and then I’ll be beaten again. I do want a family, but I can’t have children alone. I’m pretty much a mess because of him.”
“And they let him off?”
“Yes. Go figure. Women don’t matter. Men can do anything they want and they get away with it,” I say, filled with bitterness.
Randoph tried to reassure me, “Not where I come from they don’t. They put them in jail.”
“What good does it do to put a man away for five years and let him out on parole after two years, and then the woman winds up dead anyway? They get away with it. All we get is the right to scream and be frightened for the rest of our lives, however short or long that might be. You saw what he was doing with his hand. He still intends to kill me, and he wants me to know it, so I’ll be afraid of him.”
He thinks for a minute and then says, “Look, it’s nearly five thirty. I get off soon. When do you go home?”
“Whenever Father finishes. I finished about half an hour ago. That’s why I’m down here having a coffee and salad. Mom and Dad are going out this evening.”
“You still live at home?”
“Again. I had my own place until the assignment with that creep, then he ruined me. I’m afraid to have my own place. With his silenced pistol, he could kill dogs, which I would like to have, and then come kill me and I wouldn’t hear a thing. The doctors have tried to help me, but after months of near-death beatings I’m a mess. With all my problems, what man would ever want me?”
“I don’t know about that. I’d be willing to take a chance.”
My body jerks at his comment, then I manage to say, “I know you’re trying to be nice but I can’t do it. When you said that, it frightened me, and I almost screamed.”
One of the others has a grim look on his face as he says, “Let’s go get him. He could accidentally fall and break his neck.”
Several others agree and the group begins to head for the doors but Randolf stops them.
“He isn’t worth the problems you’d be getting into.” He turns back to me, “You may have almost screamed, but you didn’t. I would like to take you home if you can hold your screaming to a minimum.”
I again nearly jump out of my skin when he says that, and he sees me flinch. He can see that I have a great conflict going on inside me, but I finally respond, “Okay. But I warned you. I’m a mess and it’s all I can do not to scream right now.”
He smiles. The other’s are debating whether to go after the creep again, but the tension seems to be winding down a little and they start wandering off.
Randolph stays with me. “See, there’s still hope for you.”
I still like his smile.
I make up my mind. “I’ll go let Father know and meet you at your office, okay?”
“Sounds good to me. Would you like to go out for coffee or anything on the way home….” He sees the fear flash across my face again, as I begin to edge away.
“Never mind, bad idea. I’ll just take you straight home, I promise.”
“Maybe another time, or maybe here in the cafeteria some time,” I reply.
“It’s a date, Lady. See you in a few minutes.”
I get up, trying to bring my pounding pulse under control, which is going a hundred miles an hour, and slow my rapid breathing. Returning to my office, I put on my jacket, carrying my cap and purse and walk to Father’s secretary, a civilian named Kathy.
“Hi, Kathy. Is Father in?”
“Hi, Lucy. Yes, He’s on the phone but I’ll let him know you’re here as soon as he’s off.”
“That’s okay, just let him know that I’m getting a ride home with Lieutenant Colonel Scott, and please remind him that He and Mom are supposed to go out tonight.”
“Can do. Congratulations, girl.”
“For what?”
“L.C. Scott. He’s quite a catch. Everyone is trying to date him. How did you do it?”
“Oh, it was easy, all I had to do was nearly die. I guess that brought out his protective instincts.”
She looks at me strangely, as I turn and walk out of the office, down the hall, and enter Randolf’s outer office. Eileen, his secretary, tells me that he’s in a meeting, but should be finished any minute.
I tell her, “That’s okay, I’ll wait. He’s taking me home, because Father is going to be a while.”
Again, I’m congratulated on my ‘catch.’ Somewhat flustered, I tell her, “There isn’t any catch, Father is busy, so Randolf is just driving me home.”
“Right,” she says, obviously amused. Her eyes say ‘I’ll expect a full report.’
-o~O~o-
A little after 5:30, several people come trooping out of the office, followed by Randolf.
“Hi. I’ll just be a minute.” Eileen left at 5:15 so he writes a note for her and pushes it through the slot into her after hours deposit so she’ll have it when she comes in and unlocks tomorrow morning.
“Let me get my coat and hat, I’ll be right out.” He vanishes into his office and I hear him open his safe, then papers begin rustling. The safe closes and a few noises indicate that he’s straightening his desk. His footsteps take him over to his coat and hat, there’s a pause, and as they head toward the door, I stand.
“Ok, Lady. Let’s go. I hope you can handle my driving.”
“If I can’t, I’ll just start screaming and you’ll know.”
He laughs.
“I wasn’t joking. I meant it.”
He chuckles and continues smiling, offering me his arm, much as Father did, at a time which now seems so long ago, and yet almost like yesterday. After some hesitation, I accept it, and we walk to the elevators, riding down to go to his car. At least it’s sensible. He doesn’t have a sport car, but a family sedan, almost the same dark blue as one of my gowns. I try to visualize us driving together to some function, with me in my gown and mink, and him in his dress uniform or a tuxedo. My reverie continues until I realize that he’s asking me how to get to Mom and Dad’s home.
I begin giving him directions, taking us up toward Baltimore, and then North and finally West. Eventually, we are on their street and slowing as we approach the gate. I realize that I’ve forgotten that the gate is controlled access and I’m on the wrong side of the car. I get out and cross the drive to push the intercom buzzer. In a few seconds, one of the enlisted men answers and I tell him who I am and that I came home early. He buzzes the gate open and Randolf drives through, then drives us both up to the house after I get back in the car.
“Would you like to come in and meet Mother?”
“I think I’d better not push my luck. Maybe another time. You didn’t scream at my driving and being near me, so I don’t want to give you cause. How about lunch tomorrow?”
“Maybe. Ask me tomorrow. Just now, I need to stop shaking. Maybe a few more times in the Cafeteria and a few drives home may allow me to risk a date. We’ll see. Thank you for bringing me home. Oh, the gate opens automatically going out. Just stop at the little yellow line and a few seconds later the gate will start to open.”
“Okay. Check with you tomorrow. Bye.”
“Bye…, Randolf?”
“Yeah?”
“I…. I’m so sorry that I’m such a mess. I think I would like to chance lunch tomorrow, though. In the cafeteria,” I add quickly.
“Great.” He winks at me, “It’s a date, Princess.”
I watch him leave before turning and going into the house. I really don’t feel like a Princess, a pumpkin maybe, or more probably one of the mice, but not the Princess.
Mom is upstairs getting ready and as I walk past going to my room I look in to say, “Hi, Mom.”
“Oh. Hello, Lucy. Is Phillip here? Tell him he needs to get ready.”
“I left that message with his secretary. She said he was on the phone when I left.”
“When you left? How did you get home?”
“Lieutenant Colonel Scott drove me home,” I say.
“And you didn’t invite him in? Shame on you.”
“I did, but he said he didn’t want to press his luck. Besides, I don’t think he liked the gouges my hands left in the fabric of his car.”
“He’s a poor driver?”
“No. He’s a good driver; I’m a poor rider.”
“Oh. I understand.” She pauses for a moment, and then says gently, “Lucy, you know it might be a good idea if you would invite him to escort you on the twelfth when we go to the Israeli reception. You need to have some male friends. You can’t go on hiding the rest of your life.”
“Mom, that’s still two weeks away. I don’t know if I can handle it yet. I haven’t been able to endure those things since that creep tried to kill me. You know I went to two and had to leave after less than ten minutes. I just can’t handle all the men, it frightens me. I keep looking for the creep.”
“Okay, Lucy. I’ll tell your Father to hold the two extra invitations just in case you want to try. He has you on the list, and left the escort name open.”
“I…. I promise that I’ll think about it, Mother. I’ll try. Maybe you’re right. If I’m able to stay a little longer each time, then eventually I might make it through the whole gathering. I do understand most of the languages they use at these things, so I could translate for Father if he needed it.”
“That might work out. You could concentrate on translating and maybe you wouldn’t have time to consider the men all around you.”
“I guess it actually isn’t the men, so much as I’m afraid that I’ll run into that creep at one of these functions. He was in our cafeteria today. Randolf, I mean Lieutenant Colonel Scott, and some of his friends chased the creep away after he threatened me.”
“What!?”
Mom immediately gets up and crosses the room to pick up the phone on her night stand. In a moment, she’s telling our communications sergeant, “I need to speak with my husband immediately. It’s very important.”
Perhaps a minute goes by before the phone rings back.
“Phillip? … Oh good, how soon? … Yes, I’m nearly ready, but that’s not why I called. Did you know that the Agent who tried to kill Lucy was in your cafeteria today?”
…
“I didn’t think so. Lieutenant Colonel Scott chased him off after he threatened Lucy again. … Phillip, remember your blood pressure. Take a pill. … Yes, as soon as you arrive. … Good. See you then.”
…
“He’d like to talk with you when he arrives, in about ten minutes. He’s going to arrange to have more security here at the house as well.”
“Okay, Mom. Thank you.”
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. |
Comments
Original comments to this story
I'm going to need a doctor
Every time I read one of your chapters my pulse starts pounding and I am sure my BP goes through the roof- thanks, I enjoyed it! :)
Insightful
I didn't serve in the armed services so this story has been very interesting in the view it gives of the military experience.
It appears to me that you have been even-handed in your chracterizations. There have been good men and good women to go with the bad of both sexes.
Angela Rasch (Jill M I)
Danke Ser
fur uh, that is Thank you for clarifying the title. I was womdering where the Air force came in to the picture. Yea, Teddy. ma belle femme.
Bitte Schon
Ich werde zu viel angesprecht. I hate so to give away information when it isn't absolutely necessary...
Must be the spy in... er... I mean it must be in my nature...
Ach was...
I suppose I don't need to post the rest of the story now?
God Bless You All – Teddi
If I sometimes act like I'm from Venus...
Well, That Cad Had Best
Leave Amanda alone before he meets with an "accident." And the goons had best NOT interfere or their NEXT! Personally, I'd Love to see Amanda trounce him and then for Dad and the two Mom's and Sis to have their "fun."
May Your Light Forever Shine
Lucy's Faux- ex
Needs k... umm, I'll pass on that one seeing a woman brutalized, even in a story makes my blood boil and brings my Irish temper forward. So you get the idea. 'The Creep' needs to be taken care of one way or another, though. He nearly ruined Lucy for life. At least now I know why you named the story like you did. :)
Why do I believe the creep
Why do I believe the creep will actually "fall down some stairs" while he is on a flat surface? Thank God that not all men are like this turkey, yet the few constantly give the rest of men a bad name. If Lucy has been reverted back to her old grade of Major, is she still the head of the special intelligence group also? As her position with them was as a full Colonel, wouldn't that help her Father, the General, to be able to move her back up in grade or at least to LtCol? As the Army is different than the AF when it comes to awarding grade; just wondering. J-Lynn
Creepers
Yah, the Creep needs to "have a bad day" a really bad day. Since its Fall maybe he should spend some time in the woods with the squirrels stuffing nuts in his cheeks, his own perhaps?
The Bastard
known as "Jeremy" should just disappear . . . somehow, soon.
Here Lucy shops very carefully, selecting the items which will support her role, learns to be a LADY, and then has this crumb come into her life? No effing way! He seems to think all women are whores, possibly because all the ones he's known are just that -- because no decent woman would want to be associated with him.
On the crypto, there's a place in Washimgton, the "No Such Agency, that is supposed to be a good code-cracking group. Why go a distance just to find new people?
(Question: How can Lucy be adopted by Gen. George if she has a Mother and Sister? Will he adopt them too?)
Annie in PA
adopt them too......
No. It is an iffy thing and not frequently followed but by mutual consent such "adoptions" are permitted and legal paperwork produced. The difficulties are greatly less than those of trying to adopt a minor.
On the day I was born,
Said my mather, said she.
I've an elegant legacy
Waitin' for ye,
'Tis a rhyme for your lips
And a song for your heart
to sing it whenever your world falls apart.
Men like that
makes me feel sad for heterosexual women. Women growing up expecting the possibility of being physically assaulted or raped. The rate of rapes among coeds in college is astounding. I believe it is as high as 1 out of 3 or 4, I don't exactly remember. Women have to take so many risks just so this society can reproduce.
What a ridiculous system.
I say collect ten sperm samples from 100 million men and freeze it. There should be plenty of sperm and plenty of genetic diversity there. Then the men can just f**k themselves.
Kim
Air Force Sweetheart
I have been enjoying your story. It has told me a lot about the US military. You've created a believable backdrop and some intriguing conflicts. However, I have a minor complaint. Lucy underwent a transformation for a secret mission. I don't think the readers have been told enough about this mission that would justify her sacrifice. Why was it necessary for a male soldier to become a wife?
The secret mission
In part that mission was to "watch" the creep and his associates.
I have tried to create (about six dozen times) a believeable mission to insert into the story at that point and failed as many times. The actual mission is not one which I may discuss even today. Suffice to say, when I returned from SEA there were only four states into which I was allowed to travel. The secrecy of some of the things our "unit" did precluded our living in areas which, at the time, were deemed "extreme risk to national security".
Everyone has heard about "black ops". Well, even then, we had operations which were blacker than "black".
I have probably said more than I should at this point.
Erin... a little help here?????
Teddi (when I was a "few" years younger)
God Bless You All...
My Dear TD Aldoennetti
Your sense of humanity comes across in your writing - as does much more about you. It is discouraging that you feel you need to justify not explaining the mission. It was a different time when the idea of a woman serving in a combat zone was actively debated and most often rejected. Stephen King has a theory. He rarely describes his villains because he believes the reader will conjure a vision that is much more terrifying than anything he could have written.
Don't be afraid of leaving details for the reader to imagine. You defintely have a story to tell and are telling it in a way that is engaging.
Angela Rasch (Jill M I)
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Cheers,
Puddin'
A tender heart is an asset to an editor: it helps us be ruthless in a tactful way.
--- The Chicago Manual of Style
Notes on Chapter 25
Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)
PTSD is an anxiety disorder that can affect a person either immediately after a traumatic event or can be delayed by many months. As a rule, immediate onset is a good sign, because the prognosis for short-term recovery is much better.
When PTSD is long-delayed, recovery can be more difficult and prolonged, and there’s a danger of developing other problems in the interval that may complicate recovery, including clinical depression, drug or alcohol abuse, and other symptoms that may require treatment before the underlying problem can be addressed.
One of the lasting legacies of the conflict in Vietnam has been an improved understanding of the complex spectrum of human response to continuing stress, and episodic exposure to traumatic and terrifying events.
These breakthroughs came about largely through the actions of veteran’s groups, and parallel efforts by civilian groups which independently supported the veterans, and who together successfully raised public awareness of the problems experienced by returning Vietnam veterans, and lobbied for greater outreach to these veterans, many of whom were woefully under-served during and after their military experience.
They also put pressure on the Veteran’s Administration and individual congressional representatives to provide funds for better research to discover and provide effective treatments for what was a debilitating and, in many cases, a long-lasting mental and physical health emergency.
We now know that what used to be marginalised and hidden, as if it were something to be ashamed of, is a real injury that has real results in the real world.
In general, women are twice as likely as men are to experience PTSD in daily life, with 10.4% of women experiencing PTSD at some point in their lives. Only 5% of men, on the other hand, experience PTSD over their lifetimes.
The United States Department of Veterans Affairs estimated that 830,000 Vietnam War veterans suffered symptoms of PTSD. The National Vietnam Veterans’ Readjustment Study (NVVRS) found that 15.2% of male and 8.5% of female Vietnam Vets suffered from current PTSD at the time of the study.
Lifetime prevalence of PTSD amongst Vietnam veterans was 30.9% for males and 26.9% for females. In a reanalysis of the NVVRS data, along with analysis of the data from the Matsunaga Vietnam Veterans Project, Schnurr, Lunney, Sengupta, and Waelde found that, contrary to the initial analysis of the NVVRS data, a large majority of Vietnam veterans suffered from PTSD symptoms (but had not been diagnosed with the disorder itself). Four out of five reported recent symptoms when interviewed 20–25 years after Vietnam.
There are a lot of theories about these confusing facts, because we still don’t fully understand how the process works. The differential rates among civilians might possibly reflect, for example, the purported experience of civilian males, in particular, are less likely than are women to experience (or admit) terrifying trauma that would result in post-traumatic stress in daily life. In situations involving domestic violence, disregarding who said what about who ‘started it,’ the parties who are most severely injured and require medical care are overwhelmingly female. A third of all murders involving women were perpetrated by intimate partners, for example, versus three percent of men, a difference of an order of magnitude.
This might possibly agree with statistical data which indicates that women are far more likely to be the victims of rape and some other kinds of assault than are men. Somewhere between one in six and one in four* women have survived an attempted or completed rape in the USA, whilst the incidence for men is around one in thirty-three. The rapists themselves are overwhelmingly male.
On the other hand, the nearly equal PTSD rates amongst male and female veterans may reflect the fact that both men and women respond similarly in similar situations, and that traumatic experiences were widely distributed in Vietnam, with no particular gender bias, although the exact nature of the trauma may have been different.
On the other, other hand, the similarity may reflect differential exposure to battlefield conditions, since women might seem more vulnerable to PTSD on first analysis, or the nature of the trauma might be different, since women were at the time supposed to be kept ‘behind the lines,’ so male traumas might be associated with actual battle, and female trauma might be the result either of terrorist attack in a supposedly ‘safe’ location, or exposure to the result of battlefield injuries rather than direct participation in battle, as a nurse or doctor, for example, caring for the victims of combat injuries, whether still living or dead.
The key fact to remember about PTSD is that there’s nothing ‘imaginary’ about it. Human brains are designed to react automatically to severe stress in manners that encourage avoidance of the contemporaneous settings and behaviours which may have been immediately responsible. These reactions are no more ‘logical’ nor ‘controllable’ than is the twitch of your leg when a doctor raps on your patellar tendon with that little rubber hammer. They’re part of being human.
Vietnam Veterans of America Website offering advice about PTSD
http://www.vva.org/benefits/ptsd.htm
National Institute of Mental Health PTSD Site
http://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/topics/post-traumatic-stress-disorder-ptsd/index.shtml
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* And probably under-reported at that, since women quite often don't think of sexual acts which are rape under the law as "real" rape, but rather a "stupid situation" that they "got out of" by having unwanted sex with their "date."
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Cheers,
Puddin'
A tender heart is an asset to an editor: it helps us be ruthless in a tactful way.
--- The Chicago Manual of Style
Dear sweet friend...this post makes my day.
...I actually think I'll download this and print it for my family, most of whom understand this whole problem, but I also feel the doubt and skepticism from some as well. Thank you very much.
She was born for all the wrong reasons but grew up for all the right ones.
Possa Dio riccamente vi benedica, tutto il mio amore, Andrea
Love, Andrea Lena
'Scuse! I'm still angry but I'm calming down...
...Che cosa e fotutto bastardo! Egli può essere un carattere in un racconto, ma può quelli come Lui nella vita reale bruciare all'inferno! "What an f'ing bastard! I know he's a character in a story, but I hope those like him in real life burn in hell." He's not just a rapist, but he's tried to kill her twice, and instead of chasing him off, they need to consign him to a final fate. Anyone here get the inside joke? Randolf Scott was a Cowboy Star in the forties and fifties. I like Lieutenant Colonel Scott, and I hope he hangs around. Ah the promise of romance is in the air! Thanks again for bringing this back!
She was born for all the wrong reasons but grew up for all the right ones.
Possa Dio riccamente vi benedica, tutto il mio amore, Andrea
Love, Andrea Lena
There are a lot of them...
>> inside joke
Cheers,
Puddin'
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Cheers,
Puddin'
A tender heart is an asset to an editor: it helps us be ruthless in a tactful way.
--- The Chicago Manual of Style
Air Force Sweetheart-25
NUKE THE BASTARD!! That's my feelings about the rapist and his buds. Better yet, fememinize them and put them in the men's prison.
May Your Light Forever Shine
May Your Light Forever Shine
TEDDI
What she talks about here is probally what got her killed because of the work she did in the US ARMY! And I understand there are operates out there even to this day that are out to destroy those that did what She knew that was too much to protect her from it! Richard
Richard
Moral High Ground
It's so satisfying to think about doing all sorts of extreme things to Jeremy, but is it right? It's not right to lower oneself to the level of a creep. That's what I had to keep telling myself as I read this.
So what would be right? Chemical castration? Surgical castration? Life in prison? Death? I'm not sure. Jeremy needs some form of punishment. He can't be allowed to get away with the way he treats women.
I'm glad this is just a story. It's enough to get me to think about the subject.
As for Randolf, he's dreamy. I can say that even though I'm not attracted to men. It looks like Lucy is in good hands.
Thanks to you and you and you for this story. You know who you are.
- Terry