1993: Somalia Confidential

In the lounge, the Swede had reached her climax, and a long squeal of delight signaled it to everybody. I could see sperm trickling down from her still stuffed fuckhole, creaming the Aussie's testicles and thighs.

After her orgasm, the woman collapsed on her mature partner, and the two lay there in a heap.

I forced my cock into Lisa's eager mouth and she resumed her deepthroating, while jerking me with her hand.

It looked like I was the only guest who didn't come yet, so I obliged as fast as I could. It was not difficult: Lisa's mouth was so hot and wet, and her gorge so tight, that in a matter of seconds I shot a thick load of cum deep into the girl's throat.

Lisa gasped, chocked and panicked, trying to pull free of my grip, but I held her tight by the ears, forcing her mercilessly to swallow my sticky load.

She coughed and gasped again, spitting sperm and swallowing at the same time, trying desperately to get rid of all the goo that was engorging her mouth and throat.

Finally, I let go of her ears and hair, allowing the lewd lady to catch back her breath, as cum spurted out of her mouth, and some more weak jets splashed on her upturned, red face.

When Lisa laid her back against the wall, exhausted, cum was matting her hair, dripping along her check, trickling down her chin and straining her naked breasts; she was a mess.

The orgy was over.

I didn't take the risk to enter the lounge again and getting busted on a picture between all those naked and gooey people, so I just left through the courtyard, wondering who won the game.

Hell, for sure I got a hell of a fun!

***

I was angry at the WHA women because of the trap they lay for us at the party, and grew more and more apart from Lisa, despite her attempts to keep close.

She kept coming to our camp asking for me, but I was always away for her; our soldiers were smiling, and Colonel Scaranzi started jokingly asking weather he could take her over.

We saw each other at the weekly meetings, of course, but I always avoided remaining alone with her.

Another reason that made me angry was that I realized our comrades in the next camp had completely changed attitude: from friendly and outgoing, they turned awkward and very suspicious... I easily guessed a few pictures had come out already, and even my Commander was so pissed with the situation, that he also told me to reduce my contacts with Lisa, no matter what G2 was saying in Mogadishu.

The only thing that intrigued me was to see weather my picture with Lisa would ever show out...

Finally, after another meeting at their own compound, she managed to corner me in the shadows of the courtyard wall, and forced a hug and a kiss out of me.

It was the first time in my life I got "harassed" so plainly, and I must admit it wasn't so bad.

I answered the kiss, rolling my tongue in her open and willing mouth, savoring the sweet taste of her mouth, while wondering with my hands on her firm body. One hand cupped her butt, while the other slipped into her boson, getting hold of a soft, rounded breast.

The girl moaned with pleasure, and after a few seconds of more French-kissing and groping, during which I opened her shirt to show her beautiful, uncovered boobs, she slipped on her knees and got hold of my zipper. In no time, my cock was in her mouth.

I was a young male at war, the situation was getting more and more nasty, and I did enjoy Lisa's oral ministrations to full extent.

While she was giving me head, I noticed the gunman at the gate was looking at us intently. It was Hamid, the same guy of the first time I came, and the one Lisa claimed she didn't like to have around while being alone.

What the hell.

I grabbed Lisa's head with both hands, and plainly started fucking her skull, enjoying her total submission and the soft, wet tightness of her gorge.

It was a quick, brutal affair: she deep-throated me shamelessly under the eyes of her bodyguard, and I used her head to pleasure myself without any human respect, which I strongly suspected she liked.

Soon, I felt my testicles tickle dangerously, my muscled tensed and I groaned in total ecstasy, shooting into Lisa's throat once again.

This time, the naughty girl was not caught off guard: she knew what she was up against, and was ready to take my load down her throat without chocking.

It was me, the one who didn't want her to swallow everything: satisfied with her first gulps, I pulled put of her mouth and aimed purposefully at her bare chest. I held myself an extra second to raise the inner pressure, and then I released three extra blasts of sperm that washed Lisa's beautiful, naked breasts.

'Hmmm..." she moaned, satisfied by my show of power.

I looked down at her: a thin rope of cum was trickling down the corner of her mouth, while a number of thick, white streams of sperm were pouring down her firm, round tits and drenching her sand-colored open shirt. The girl looked quite a mess, and I felt quite proud of it.

"Nice," she purred with a dirty smile, cleaning the semen from her mouth, and then starting rubbing the rest of it on the mess of her honey-colored naked chest: "Why don't we do this more often? You have been avoiding me, lately..."

"I've been busy, Lisa," I replied, matter-of-factly, zipping up my fly as after taking a pee.

"Hmmm..." she giggled, cleaning her soaked fingers with her tongue, "You may have been busy, but your weapon needed to unload quite badly... And me too!"

True. I wanted to say something nasty, but only shrugged instead.

I just pinched at her sperm-wet nipple making her squeal and left, leaving her all messed up with sperm in that dark corner of the courtyard.

I passed fast in front of the smiling gunman and left the gate to reach my waiting jeep.

***

Lisa didn't appreciate the humiliation, and from that day, she started looking upset and even hostile every time we met, which as I said was happening just when I reallyhadto. Apparently, she had given up with her seduction mission, which was OK with me: I rather delivered my casual fake information directly to Carolyn, whom at least I appreciated for her professionalism.

Girls will be my ruin, I know. Even when I am not involved directly, they cause problems. I mean, when that team from ARD (German TV) came to our camp asking to film something interesting since the German Contingent had at the time such strict national ROEs that they could hardly move, I thought Colonel Scaranzi would offer them a cold tea and send them away. Instead, he had a long look to the slender (and not-so-dressed) figure of a pretty assistant of the team chief, offered them a tea all right, and then ordered me to take the TV team with me on my daily patrol.

Of course, the young lady staid in our camp with the team leader, and I found myself around in the bushes with a goddamned Mercedes jeep behind and two ugly and long-beard German journalists, eager to film anything I could offer them.

Well, I thought it was just upsetting, but I didn't take into account Murphy's Law.

After a few kilometers in the bush, we met aMelanzana("Eggplant", an old truck where the goods were carried in layers, like in ourMelanzane alla Parmigiana: upper level was the passengers, which lay on top of the animals, which lay on top of the goods, which hide the smuggled weapons). The driver stopped and told us that in the nearest village they found a mine.

The interpreter translated, and the journalists got all excited. We went on the scene and came right into the centre of the village.

There was a crowd, everybody was waiting for us, and the chief of the village showed to us, very proudly, their landmine. It was an old, Chinese-made antitank mine. It lay there, uncovered in the centre of the "main square" of the village.

The journalists got berserk filming. I was fuming.

Problem: the rules in the case you find a mine during a patrol are simple: you mark the spot and call a specialized EOD (Explosive Ordnance Deliver) Team, which will dispose of the nasty thing. Yes, but those stupid journalists were there to witness action, and were filming everything. I could almost see that night TV News in Germany: "UN patrol find a mine in a poor African village, and leave it there for the children to play with, postponing any action to the moment an engineer will be available..." My Commander would not be pleased, nor my Prime Minister would.

OK, let's think hard (which for a soldier may be not so easy). The Germans were filming, so somethinghadto be done; the mine was in the middle of the village, so it couldn't havealwaysbeen there; we knew thatusuallythe Somalis forget to fuse land mines.

I checked the damned thing, and I could spot no wires or manumission... I was not a booby-trap.

I hoped.

I had everybody around move away, and then I breathed deeply. I said a prayer, I thought of Karin, and finally, I lifted the mine with two hands.

Nothing happened.

The Germans were filming enthusiastically.

I sobbed, thinking how small my pay was; compared with the civil technicians doing exactly that job where security conditions were a little bit better, and then I carried the stupid piece of iron to my jeep, or "removing it for later disposal", as I wrote in my report.

My driver was a bit uncomfortable during the drive back, but the journalists were quite pleased.

That evening, Colonel Scaranzi laughed half an hour, patting me on the shoulders, and that was my best reward.

On August the 15th, which for us represents the heart of summer holidays, I got my most challenging engagement.

A band of gunmen, which later resulted to be but the hired guards of the compound, had seized the World Food Program depot in the centre of Belet Wayne, claiming they had not been paid and asking for their rights... In Europe we would call it a strike, only in Somalia this was performed with weapons and became urban warfare.

We had only a handful of troops available to react at the moment, since our Quick Reaction Force was committed next to the borderline, the Nigerians were neither willing nor allowed to engage into city fight, and the Germans weren't allowed to conduct proper combat operations by their government. So there I was, with half a platoon and two armored recce vehicles to storm a wall-ringed compound, defended by people trained to do it...

OK, I will not go into too many details. Suffice to say that I sneaked in with my Intelligence Aid while our soldiers were offering a show in front of the main gate, and while he covered me from a decent position, I just showed in the courtyard where the thugs were collected, and played the angrywhite massa. It may sound not politically correct, but those kinds of superiority shows still hold a deep impact on local warlords.

I just barked something in English, and then I moved to the gate, challenging them to stop me. I opened the gate lock without they could decide to shoot at me, and in a minute my men were inside the compound, on the walls and on the roofs.

We just collected the weapons of the thugs and kicked them out, leaving Alistair, the Australian local director of the agency, to retake possession of his compound.

The guy was actually very nice with us after the action, contrary of what usually happens with most NGOs volunteers: he wanted to shake hands with our soldiers, and then invited the platoon Commander and me for a drink to his temporary accommodation. After the gunmen took over his compound, he had moved into the Save the Children compound, guest of his Swedish friend, and all his personal belongings were still there.

After sending our boys back to the camp and leaving a squad to protect the compound as long as the Aussie hired another team of guards, I escorted the guy back to the Save the Children compound to pick up his stuff.

There, I declined the whisky he offered me, and accepted a cold tea. For once, his Swedish friend was less bitchy than usual, and even smiled when thanked me for helping her friend. Apparently, she just believed soldiers were just thugs like her own gunmen, and was pleased to realize we might also be useful. Sometimes.

Apart from her bitchy attitude, her company wasn't that bed: much closer to forty than to thirty, Christina (that was her name) looked quite worn in her face, but quite in shape as far as her body was concerned. Actually, she looked so muscled, ragged and lean that you might easily take her for a lesbian... Only Iknewshe wasn't.

She wore shorts, showing quite a pair of long, muscled and tanned legs, and an unbuttoned dirty shirt, which showed clearly she was almost completely flat chested. Dirty blonde and with blue eyes, she was quite a specific type. And when she finally smiled, she almost looked pretty.

There was somebody else in the compound, apart from us and the gunmen, and was a French doctor in his late twenties, who acted as Christine deputy for their NGO, and which I instinctively disliked: tall, slim, white-skinned and hairy, he looked even more bitchy than Christine, plus he seemed incapable to smile at all.

While we sat for the tea, he came in, without shaking hands or saying hello, sat next to Christine and just placed a long surgeon hand on her bare leg, like if to proof his ownership. I wondered if he had any idea Alistair fucked is girlfriend just days before...

I got another thrill just days later, when I led my recce team north along the American Highway towards the Ethiopian border and the far corner of our AOR.

We went with two jeeps, armed with heavy machineguns and antitank missile launchers: me and my aid, two drivers and two Carabinieri, six people all in all.

It was a damned hot day, but it was fun. We checked the ENI camp, getting confirmed that the "carrots" they rigged showed no trace of oil, and then we turned north-east towards Galkayo; we reaching more far east than anybody else from UNOSOM did before, exploring the area and checking our beautiful blank maps (very) few data.

Somebody didn't like it.

The area just northeast of our AOR was more or less completely under control of the Habr-Gadir tribe, the men of Mr. Aideed. And there were a lot of them, mostly mounted on their technikas, kind of jeeps with heavy machineguns or even small recoilless guns mounted. They also sported a few old tanks and armored recce vehicles... And that day they decided to show us the full inventory.

Luckily for us, they weren't believer in sneak attacks, and privileged shooting at long range.

They opened up more or less the moment they saw us, with what seemed to be a 106mm recoilless rifle. Something we had in museums, but it hurts.

You need a lot of trainingandsome luck to hit a mobile target with it, and they were short of both.

We got the warning, reached higher ground and managed to assess the odds.

They were bad. Bad for us, I mean: the guys had at least eight technikas with a variety of gear on top, plus two of what seemed to be old BRDM-2 Soviet-vintage armored recce vehicles.

I like games, but not to bethegame, so we started retreating slowly towards our AOR boundary.

We let them approach up to 2000 metres, and we shot twoApilasantitank missiles, just to show we were players too: the two Carabinieri who shot were well trained, and one of the two BRDMs exploded in a cute fireball.

This gave them something to think about, and we started a proper delaying action to disengage fighting our way out of the trap: the other jeep run for another position in the rear, and we shot another missile to cover them, missing shortly the other BRDM, which realized to be too slow and vulnerable and chose to withdraw. Good they didn't know we had only one missile left...

When the second jeep reached its new position and opened up with its Browning 0.5 machinegun, we left our position and run for our own new one, about 200 metres behind the other.

The technikas were less scared than the BRDM, and run for us, shooting all the way. They must have had lots of ammunitions to spare, because shooting with machineguns while driving in the bushes is more or less useless.

We just alternated fire and movement, withdrawing one vehicle at the time and giving ground quite slowly, but our fire from the temporary positions was far more precise than theirs.

Did you ever watch a 0.5 firing at maximum range? It's quite a sight. The tracers show the trajectory of your short bursts, and the target can't change its heading fast enough to prevent your bullets to adjust on it... If it's neither covered nor armored, that is.

That's how we saw the firsttechnikamore or less go into our burst, taking hits, tossing violently, turning over at high speed, and finally explode.

Those old wrecks were driving on petrol, and fast to ablaze.

First we got one, and then, as we withdrew, our mates got another one.

After that, the idiots got wiser, and slew down, allowing us to withdraw without further incidents till we reached radio range to our base and called for air support, but when our helicopters appeared, the Habr-Gadir were long gone.

We came home all dusty and glorious and while I was reporting to my Regiment Commander, our G-4, the Chief Logistics, informed me he was going to charge me with the ammunition we spent.

Yes.

You know, we were not officially at war, so the ammo we were using was theoretically for training, and when you shoot training ammo, you are supposed to carry home the brass of the spent cartridge... And 0.5 cartridges have a lot of brass.

That's my Army, folks!

Since that incident, we doubled our air patrols north and east of Belet Weyne.

No, there was no oil in the Somali desert... But you can't run away like a beaten dog after the bad guys start shooting at you: it would be the wrong political signal, wouldn't it?

So we staid, and ENI tried to drill more south, east of Gialalaxi, and I went to WHA to tell them they were drilling west of it, just in case...

I didn't see Lisa since a while, and I wasn't surprised when the thug told me she wasn't in the compound... She grew quite cold with me lately, and I didn't care that much either. I was there to work, not to see my girlfriend.

So I asked for Carolyn instead and yes, she was in.

The WHA boss received me in the usual lounge open on the patio, and I smiled noticing that the old couch still showed the cum stain from the first coupling between Lisa and I.

"Hi Bob," Carolyn greeted me with a warm smile: "How long I didn't see you... Are you looking for Lisa?"

"Well, not exactly," I shrugged, "Actually, I just wanted to hear weather everything was OK with everybody, since I didn't see any of you for quite a while."

Carolyn smiled and tossed her long dark hair: "Oh, everything is fine with us... Paula left to be back to the States, and we got a new TV... Nothing else, I suppose. Apart from Lisa, who was sad not to see you around anymore."

"Uh. Well, I suppose we have been a bit busy up to the north. Actually, where did she go? The guard told me she isn't in."

Carolyn looked genuinely surprised: "Why... She is in now. She's not due to go anywhere today. Must be in her room, as far as I know. Why don't you go and see for her? I bet she will be happy to see you."

I hesitated a second and she added, with a wicked smile: "I suppose you know where her room is..."

I knew all right. No use to dismiss the invitation: Carolyn was trying hard to reconnect Lisa to me, and I didn't want to make a specific point that I wasn't interested in seeing her. So I made Carolyn happy and went down the corridor to Lisa's room.

I knew there was something wrong before knocking the door. I must have sensed something without realizing it, maybe a sound, or a smell... I don't know.