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The General saves me the trouble of asking, “We’ve had a number of reports in the last few days that lead us to believe there is about to be some sort of offensive in the North, but the information you just gave me neatly pinpoints it. We may be able to head this off before a lot of damage is done. It would seem, Miss Jackson, that you have already begun your new assignment. Congratulations.” He paused for a moment, then added, “Oh, and my condolences.”

“For what, Sir?”

“For your devotion to duty, which is causing you to lose your chances of having children. I’m very sorry.”

Allowing my face to reflect sorrow, I say nothing to contradict him, nor do I mention Mom’s or Janet’s potential support of my possible future family.

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Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf by T D Aldoennetti on Thu, 2008/11/06 - 5:11am, Air Force Sweetheart -- TacPzlSolGp Chapter 16 is revised and reposted on Fri, 2009/12/18 - 01:38 PM. ~Sephrena

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Who am I, really?:

Chapter 16

 

“By the way, how well did you do?”

“Sir?”

“How did you look in a gown, and did anyone figure it out?”

“With this wig and the breast forms, just fine, Sir. I spent a lot of time learning how to do my makeup, how to act, and mostly how to think. I am doing much better now than I did at the Embassy. This wig is pretty expensive, so I will need to unglue it the day before my operations. I’ll have to remove the breast forms also, since they’re glued on. I’m hoping I will begin to develop my own real breasts over time so I can dispense with this artificial method. I don’t want implants either.” I point toward the obvious bulge at my chest.

He gives that a little thought as he comes around the desk, offering me his arm.

“I’ll remember to ask the doctors about that when they arrive.”

He opens the door and allows me to walk out of his office, then follows, closing his own door. The secretary/receptionist looks up in surprise. The lion is acting like a pussycat.

“Mrs. Carter, do you have any Army Colonel’s insignia in that magical desk of yours?”

“I believe so, Sir. Let me look…. Yes, just one set. Do you want me to get more?”

“Yes. I’ll take that one and maybe you could get….” He turns and looks at me.

“Three more sets, Sir?”

“Three more sets by this afternoon.”

“Yes, Sir, and one for my magical desk.”

He laughs as he changes my Major’s insignia for Colonel’s, tossing the Major’s insignia onto Mrs. Carters desk for inclusion into her magical compilation of artifacts.

“If anyone needs me, tell them to call the mess downstairs; we’re going for breakfast.”

“Yes, Sir. If Thor comes in, what do you want him to do?”

“Tell him to get some of his tasks done, and I’ll let him know what to do next when I’m back in my office.”

“Very good, Sir.”

“Would you care to accompany me, COLONEL Jackson?”

“Thank you, Sir,” bobbing my head in a mock curtsey.

“Let me see you do that for real.”

I look at him with a brief ‘what is going through your head now’ expression and the secretary agrees. I give him a deep curtsey as though he is royalty and I’m in a long gown.

His jaw falls open and his head turns to his secretary, who is smiling like the cat that ate the canary, and then back to me. He gives a brief nod and we are on our way again.

Breakfast here is nothing like our mess. The food here is good and I make a point of telling him so. I guess it is because there are so many officers here. Then again, that is all there are at our mess, so something is wrong. Before we leave again, I ask the General if I may tell the mess Sergeant that he runs a very good mess. He leads me back into the kitchen and the sudden hush draws the mess Sergeant out on the double. He stops cold when he sees the General standing in his kitchen.

“Sergeant, the Colonel has a few words she would like to say.”

Everyone’s eyes turn to me, wondering what scathing remarks I have for them, and what kind of punishment the mess Sergeant will dish out afterward.

“Sergeant, I just want you to know that was the best meal I have had in an Army mess in three years. Keep up the great work.”

“YES, Ma’am…. We will. Thank you.”

I smile at him, and the General and I depart his kitchen, leaving stunned silence behind us for a few seconds then I hear the voice of the mess Sergeant quietly telling everyone, “Okay let’s get back to work and make lunch even better.”

After we are in the elevator, the General remarks, “It will be interesting to see how he does for lunch or maybe tomorrow’s meals.”

I explain the problem at the officer’s mess over at BOQ.

“I like to cook, so the preparation of food and how it tastes is rather important to me, Sir. Then too, poorly prepared food has little nutritional value and affects one’s mental and physical performance for days.”

“I hadn’t thought of it like that,” he said. “It makes sense. We might be able to improve the grades of the students by giving them better food. I think I’ll order an unannounced spot inspection of food quality at the school’s Officer’s mess, and the Enlisted mess as well.”

Upon arriving back at his office, we discover that the surgeons have not arrived but they did leave a message. They are involved with a couple of surgeries at the moment and, as soon as everything is complete, they will be over. Mrs. Carter also tells us that the insignia should arrive around two. We go into the general’s office and he tells me to have a seat, then begins studying me.

I still feel like a piece of meat and tell him so.

“Sorry. I’m not trying to be disrespectful. I just keep thinking of the potential here. Your hair is up; how do you look with it down?”

“Okay, Sir. Down doesn’t go well with the uniform.”

He gives a laugh more like an amused snort with a smile. I can see the wheels turning, the ghosts of a hundred ideas crossing his face like the pictures on the wheels of a Vegas slot machine. I wasn’t sure what it all meant for me. Those machines usually tantalize you with enticing combinations before they slip you the Mickey Finn in the form of black bars. He finally settles on one idea, and I’m trying to decide if it is cherries or lemons based upon his expression.

“Colonel, my wife and I are going to a small get-together two nights from now at the home of a prominent individual from this area. It will be formal, and I would like to see how you do in that setting. It’s a lot easier for me to see things for myself than to guess at them based on other people’s reports. That way, I can evaluate what I’ve seen without my thoughts being clouded by the views of others. Would you mind?”

“Not at all, Sir. I would like to speak with your wife, so I don’t wear something that clashes.”

“Something that doesn’t…?” He blinked, then said, “How long will it take for you to get a gown and the things you need?”

“About as long as it takes me to unpack them, Sir. They gave me an allowance for new clothes, a lot of new clothes, so I would have the things I would need as a woman for virtually every event. Those clothes traveled with me and are in my quarters now. I don’t have the room to unpack but a tenth of it, but I have civilian gowns, furs, dresses, skirts, blouses, my undergarments, makeup…, everything a young lady needs, Sir. I just need to know how formal and to speak with your wife.”

He pauses to digest that information then leans over to the intercom first calling Colonel Harrington and then his secretary, “Thor, could you come in here for a minute?”

“Right away, Sir.”

“Mrs. Carter, would you get my wife on the phone?”

“Certainly.”

A few minutes later, as the General finishes his conversation with his wife, the gorgeous Colonel Harrington comes into the room.

“What is it, George?”

“Thor, what are you doing the night after next?”

He thinks about it, “Nothing in particular. Why?”

“My wife and I are going to a little get together in Ft Worth and I’d like you to escort Miss Jackson. It’s black tie, non-uniform.”

He gives me a look that says he thinks I’m a piece of dirt and I immediately speak my piece, “SIR. I would rather go unaccompanied. It’s quite obvious that the Colonel cannot accept me as a woman for whatever reason. I don’t need my cover blown before the operation even begins. All we need is for the word to go out that some male dressed as a female was at the gathering and the mission is destroyed. If I have to become a female, I don’t want someone who is insensitive to my security to compromise me, or make all my sacrifices worthless.”

Rage now crosses the Colonel’s face, and even the General can see it.

The Colonel retorts, “Look, you pervert, just because you want to wear skirts doesn’t mean I have to put up with it. You AREN’T a woman and you never will be. Don’t kid yourself. Any man who wants to be a woman is just a piece of shit in my book. I don’t care if it is for an assignment. You could have turned it down, so I don’t have to like you or accept anything you say or do. I hope they find you out and give you what all you queers deser….”

All through this tirade, the General is saying “Thor… THOR…” and finally, “THOR SHUT UP, SIT DOWN, AND KEEP YOUR MOUTH CLOSED, COLONEL.”

I stand up during the Colonel’s outburst and give him a slap just about the time he is finishing and the General is bellowing. The Colonel tries to give me a punch but I simply use it against him and he finds himself in a heap on the floor. He comes at me again and once again goes down. I look briefly at the General with a ‘I don’t want to hurt him’ look just as the General says, “Put him down before the two of you destroy my office.”

The Colonel thinks the General is encouraging him and comes for me again. I do what the General says and ‘put him down.’

“I’m sorry, Sir. I didn’t want to fight him.” I have tears in my eyes and start digging for a handkerchief.

“I know. You just followed my orders, Colonel. I told you to put him down. How long will he be out?”

“I don’t know, anywhere from five minutes to an hour. There are too many variables.”

“Easy, Lucy. You can stop crying. It’s over now.” He comes around the desk and puts his arm around me as I stand there looking at the Colonel on the floor and the wreckage in the office.

“Yes. It’s over. The mission is a failure and I’m all screwed up.”

“What do you mean, a failure? It hasn’t even started.”

“Sir, what do you think he will do the moment he has a chance? He will let anyone know who will listen. He just suffered a humiliating defeat at the hands of a ‘queer’ as he put it. He can’t let that go by and no orders in the world will be able to stop him. People like that only care about one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Killing the person they think is going against God, or at least the way they perceive God. They don’t understand the love God holds for EVERYONE, nor do they care to. They prefer a God of wrath which is another side of Him just as it is of us. They can’t stand the Love side.”

Maybe Mom’s right, maybe I am becoming a philosopher. Two MPs come bursting into the office having been alerted by the receptionist/ secretary in the outer office. They survey the mess and look at the crumpled heap of the Colonel then at the General trying to comfort a crying female.

“Sir?”

“Could you wait right outside? I’ll call you if I need you. Colonel Jackson, here sit down. I’ll get you a drink.”

The MPs retreat and I sit in the offered unbroken chair, “Just water or maybe a little Pepsi.”

“Coke okay?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He brings a glass about half filled and I take it appreciatively, “Thank you.”

A low moan comes from the heap and in about a minute the Colonel is staggering to his feet. Thirty seconds more and he resumes the battle. He knocks me to the ground because I didn’t make it out of the chair in time. I give him one in the throat and two more at his ears. That slows him enough that I am able to get on my feet before he is up and at me again. This time I put him down without pulling my ‘punches.’ The MPs are in the door just about the time the Colonel drops at my feet.

“This time it will be about an hour, Sir.”

I limp around looking for my missing shoe and find it has its heel broken off. I sit on the floor and start crying again holding the broken pieces in my hands.

“Restrain him.” The MPs put handcuffs on the Colonel and look questioningly at the General as they indicate me.

“Help her up.” He goes and gets another glass, half filling it and hands it to me as I try to decide what to do with the pieces of my broken shoe. Putting my shoe on the desk I find a broken glass just below them on the floor and wonder where that came from as I begin to poke at a hole I discovered in my hose.

The surgeons meanwhile have called again and are on their way.

The broken things are cleared from the office and Thor is still unconscious. The General looks at me and at Thor asking, ‘What’s up with him?’ by his raised eyebrows and a short nod of his head.

“At least another forty to fifty minutes, Sir. I’m sorry about the office, Sir. I’ve run into a lot of people who don’t like women during the past week. I’ve never been called those names before, though. Most people involved in this appreciate my sacrifices. He’s the first one who thinks I’m ‘a piece of shit’ for wanting to serve my country.”

The MPs start at my use of language and then realize I’m just quoting the Colonel.

I finally begin checking my uniform and find the jacket is torn and the zipper of the skirt ruined. Without removing it for inspection, I don’t know if my blouse is okay or not. My other shoe is badly scraped and I hurt in a dozen places. He is a pretty rough fighter. I feel like…. Yep, here it comes…, and I vomit on the floor in front of me.

“Sorry, Sir.” I struggle to speak with an attempt at dignity as I vomit again while trying to make it to the sink at the small bar.

“I don’t feel so good, Sir.”

The nearest MP catches me as I vomit blood on my way to the floor.

-o~O~o-

When I wake up, my wig is missing and the breast forms are gone. I’m in a hospital room. I guess the Colonel did some damage after all. I feel terrible. My stomach hurts. My groin feels like I was kicked by a mule, although it seems a little numb as well. I can’t reach it because I’m bandaged near that area. My face hurts and is bandaged as well. The bandage covers much of my head with holes to allow me to look out and to take food or breathe. I don’t remember hurting my face but maybe I was just numb from the fight.

There is light at the window so it must be the next day or two. A glass of water with a straw is on the cart next to the bed. I could really use a drink. I try to pull the cart close enough to get to the glass then begin worrying the glass over far enough to pick it up. I finally manage and take a sip of water. It tastes wonderful.

I’m so tired. I feel like I’ve been through a war. I didn’t think he had done that much to me. Must have been when he surprised me and knocked me over in the chair. About all I remember is him hitting me over and over in the stomach.

In a way I’m glad it’s all over. I was looking forward to the wonderful challenge and the chance to raise and train my own family as a mom, but with all I’ve learned, I will make a better father for my children. I hear something crash and open my eyes again trying to see what it was. That’s when I realize I dropped the glass while trying to put it on the table. The door opens and a nurse comes into the room, followed moments later by another. They find the glass and clean up the mess bringing another a few minutes later then allowing me another drink.

I ask, “How am I doing?”

“Just fine. The operation was successful and you are well on your way to recovery. Just relax and get better. We’ll let the General know you’re awake. He wants to see you as soon as you are up to it.”

I manage to croak out, “I’m going to sleep some more until he arrives. May I have some more water?”

“Of course. Here. I’ll raise the head of your bed. There, now. Let’s have a sip or two.”

Yet again the water tastes wonderful. I close my eyes and awaken to a nurse gently touching me and asking me to wake up. I try focusing and finally make out the General standing there. The nurse fusses for a minute, then leaves the room.

“How are you doing?” he asks.

“They tell me I’ll be fine, Sir. I’m sorry about the mission.”

He looks a little puzzled, “What do you mean?”

“About it being blown, Sir. I was looking forward to the challenge. Kind of like an actor getting into a part. I really was thinking of myself as a woman. Funny isn’t it, Sir?”

I don’t remember hearing his answer. I wake up again and the windows are dark.

The room is dark and I’m thirsty again. Once more I fight to get the glass of water and take a couple of sips. I make certain the glass makes it onto the cart, and stays there, then go to sleep.

“Come on, sweetie. Wake up… You need to eat. Wake up.”

I find the head of the bed has been partially raised again and, as I open my eyes, the nurse says she is going to raise it all the way so I can eat. She slowly brings the head of the bed nearly upright and begins to move the cart over when I give a little yelp. Instantly she want to know what’s wrong and I point toward my groin telling her a spasm of pain occurred as I sat up. She checks and pronounces everything to be okay.

The cart comes over and I find orange juice and tea and eggs, a really small piece of ham and a part of a lettuce leaf with a circle of pineapple on it and a dab of cottage cheese in the middle.

I begin to wolf it down and she says, “Easy, Lucy, I won’t take it away until you are finished. You can take your time. After you finish, you have a visitor.”

Lucy! So they did go ahead. I wonder why? With that bigot out there spouting off, there’s no way the mission could succeed now. By now he has probably run to every newspaper and nest of bigots he can think of and told them the whole story. They in turn will plaster it all over the world, given time, so the mission will be a failure. How does that saying go? ‘Ours is not to reason why. Ours is but to do or die.’ Great.

I finish eating and the nurses come in, in force, cleaning up my bed and removing the tray checking my bandages for any signs that things may not be going well then they allow my visitor to come in.

“Uncle Phillip.”

“Hi, kitten. How are you feeling?”

“Sore, tired, hungry, massively unappreciated.”

He smiles and shakes his head, “You always were outspoken.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to see how you’re doing.”

“I don’t mean at the hospital, Uncle Phillip. I mean in the States.”

“Oh that. Well, I have a couple of meetings in DC I needed to attend and thought I might drop by on the way to see how you are doing. Obviously not that bad. You had me worried. I don’t want anything to happen to my favorite niece. Aunt Julie sends her best by the way.”

“When you see her again, tell her ‘I miss her’ for me, will you?”

“Be glad to.” He takes my hand and holds it gently, “We were quite anxious when we heard about the fight. Your Aunt wanted to come and put a noose around his neck. I don’t see her like that very often. Once she hears from me that you’re going to be okay then she may settle down.”

“I’ll try not to have a relapse. How long have I been in here?”

“You had your fight six days ago. You seem to have held your own fairly well, but you simply must learn not to pick fights with men. They outweigh you, you know.”

I start to laugh but it hurts, so I give a little laugh and then a grunt of pain, and the cycle repeats a few times before I regain control.

“I didn’t pick the fight, he did.”

“But you had to finish it didn’t you? When will you learn it isn’t ladylike to beat up on men?”

“Not even if they deserve it, Uncle Phillip?”

“Well. At least leave enough that I get to put in my two cents worth. Okay?”

I take my hand out of his grasp and reach up touching his face feeling the prick of his heavy five o’clock shadow.

“Okay. I’m so glad you came by. Give my love to Aunt Julie, will you? And to you, too. You fibbed to me.”

“What?”

“You said you were just passing by, but your beard says you just got off the plane and came right here.”

“I’ll shave in DC.”

“Uh huh,” I take his hand and put it up to my face, then remember the bandages. “I guess he got my face as well as my stomach. I don’t remember. I love you, Uncle Phillip. I’m glad you came by.”

I can’t keep my eyes open and am beginning to fade into sleep again. You’d think that after six days I would be wide awake.

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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.