Alternate Memories - Ft. Meade Ch. 05

I knew that Tuesday's weather forecast was supposed to be marginal, but I considered it somewhat short of that. At 6 a.m. there was a steady drizzle and a 15 mph wind. I'm not squeamish about running in the rain, but it's not my favorite by a long stretch. Under normal circumstances I would have sucked it up and that would be that, but this week was definitely, not normal.

When I crawled back in bed, I must have disturbed Maribeth, because she snuggled closer and whispered, "back already?" I confessed that I had taken stock of the weather and had wimped out on the morning run. She just smiled, wiggled her cute butt and reached for my hand which she cupped over her naked breast. I thought I heard her say, "good."

We laid like that for another hour, alternating between sleep and wakefulness, but mostly in that never never land between both. I was gently fondling her and as usual Maribeth's hand was atop mine, guiding. I was aware that we had missed a meal last night and I was beginning to feel hunger pangs, as I was sure Maribeth was too.

I hadn't exactly planned breakfast, but I suddenly had an idea that I hadn't considered before. I shook Maribeth awake and said, "We need to go, I have a surprise for you." The silly girl actually asked what the surprise was, but all I said was, "dress warmly."

A few minutes later she was up and dressed in black fleece pants and the green and gold Wright State sweatshirt. I had on fatigue pants and boots, along with the black pullover I usually wore for PT and an army field cap. As we drove, Maribeth immediately recognized the route and said, "this is the way to your company." I told you this girl doesn't miss much. I nodded in the affirmative, but I was otherwise noncommittal on the way.

Morning PT had just finished and since Captain Buffardi was on leave, I guessed that one of the other platoon leaders had led. This was confirmed when I spotted Lt. Bodnar walking in our direction. He saw us parking and came over. I introduced Maribeth and Keith shook her hand and welcomed her to the compound, then turning to me he asked, "what brings you here in the middle of your leave." I replied, "I'm going to introduce Maribeth to SOS." Keith gave a kind of a frown and said, "Are you sure you know what you're doing." I laughed and Maribeth just looked puzzled.

We walked together along a path and soon followed several soldiers into the mess hall. Unlike our previous visit, breakfast was in full swing and the smell of frying bacon hit us immediately on entering. I walked Maribeth to the chow line and she followed. At least in non-combat situations, the Army does try to provide some variety when it comes to feeding the troops. Breakfast is probably the most limited in this regard as there are fewer traditional menu items from which to choose

Scrambled eggs, bacon and hash brown potatoes are on the steam table every morning, but Monday, Thursday and Saturday they also serve pancakes. On Tuesday and Friday the alternate selection is SOS. The official name of this dish is sausage gravy on toast, but dating back to the dawn of time, soldiers have referred to it as SOS, an acronym for "s**t on a shingle." It was, by far, my favorite any time, but especially when I'm really really hungry. Just like now.

Sgt. Garcia was serving, and I held up three fingers, and three pieces of toast were placed on a platter and richly mounded by the sausage gravy. Maribeth watched and followed my lead, but only asked for two. I filled two cups with steaming coffee and two glasses with orange juice and we went to the officer's table. There were two people already there, Lt. Mosier and CWO Murray.

Again, introductions all around and Maribeth and I sat down at the round table, the only one in the mess. Mosier and Warren were dressed identical to me since this was the normal PT uniform. Warren had his usual full tray of whatever was being served, Mosier was just sipping coffee. Lt. Bodnar soon joined and almost everyone wanted to talk to Maribeth. They wanted to know everything; where she was from, how we met, what she'd done since she had been here. They were very impressed that she already knew about Annibelle's.

I asked Maribeth how she liked the surprise. She was well into her second piece of toast and with her mouth full, she asked, "you mean the SOS?" I nodded, and she said that she had eaten creamed chipped beef on toast, but that this was much better. This elicited groans from all around. When I pointed out that the lady hadn't eaten since lunchtime yesterday, everyone agreed that starving people were likely to say some amazingly stupid things.

The conversation from that point on quickly degenerated into a wholesale assassination of my character. There were innuendos, fibs, lies and total falsehoods directed to Maribeth's attention, which to her credit, she took in stride while finishing the last of her breakfast. When I figured that I had suffered enough, I said our good-byes and we ran for the car, just as the morning drizzle turned to rain.

Maribeth plopped into her seat and began laughing. "Nice friends you have there," she managed to blurt between giggles, "they said the same things about you that your friends in Dayton told me." I responded, "Yeah, the world is full of comedians." as I pulled out onto the street.

I had considered taking Maribeth to a couple of places; both Mt. Vernon and Gettysburg were near the top of my list, but the weather was worse than forecast and both were at least an hour drive away, so with no real plan B, I headed back to the BOQ to await some improvement. The consolation prize of being alone with Maribeth in private didn't seem that bad to me.

We really hadn't gotten all that wet on the run to the car, but I wasn't interested in lounging around in combat boots and fatigues, so we both doffed our outdoor clothes and got comfortable, which for Maribeth included losing her bra and putting back on her silk robe. I didn't have a robe so I was in green fleece pants and a black tee-shirt. I brewed some coffee and we sat on the sofa listening to the radio and watching the rain fall.

Maribeth knew that I had graduated from high school on an American air base in France, so she asked how I got from there to Dayton. I had given her a short answer to that question before, but I guessed she was interested in the details.

I explained that my dad was stationed at a US Air Force Base at Evereux, about sixty miles west of Paris, but that there wasn't a high school there. Instead we were bussed about eighty miles south to another air base where an American high school had been established at Dreux which was closer to Normandy. Even though it had the name of a good sized town, the air base itself was actually ten miles away out in the countryside.

Druex was considered a consolidation school because the students there came from all over Europe. Some were dependents of diplomats or American contractors as well as the military. While all of us lived in dormitories, about half of them came from so far away that they boarded 7 days a week. The other half, like my brother and me, commuted from Evereux by bus, so normally we spent Monday-Thursday in the dorms and weekends home. That was fine unless you were on one of the sports teams who always played games on weekends. In which case, you were just like the 7 day boarders. I played football, basketball and track, so I was there most of the time. My brother only played soccer, so he was home more often than I was.

We had come to France in the middle of my Junior year from Dover, Delaware, where I was the starting quarterback at the high school there. When I got to Dreux they were already halfway through the season, but as luck would have it their quarterback had been injured and I stepped in, right off the boat, so to speak.

American football was an oddity in France, so we only played other American Schools located in France, Germany or the U.K. That made for some interesting road trips, like the time we were scheduled to play a team at Lakenhearh in England and we crossed the English Channel at night in the middle of a storm. A lot of people lost their meal that night. Other sports, Like basketball, track and soccer, we often competed against local French schools.

In my Senior year the football team won the European Schools championship and we were undefeated. It so happened that the base commander at Dreux was an alumni of the University of Dayton and was good buddies with the athletic director. He wrote a nice letter and sent some film of our games. I was surprised when UD offered me a partial athletic scholarship. It was conditional on me making the team and only covered tuition. Room and board was on me.

I hadn't given college much thought. No one in my family had ever gone to one and I had just assumed that I probably wouldn't either. I had to make a decision about a course of study, and selected Business almost as a default, since none of the other choices seemed that interesting.

Anyway, that's how I ended up at the University of Dayton in the fall of 1962, all by myself with a family 4,000 miles away across a wide ocean.

Maribeth was just listening and sipping her coffee as I recounted the story, never once interrupting, until I was finished. "You told me you got hurt," she asked.

"Yeah, back then, college football hadn't yet allowed unlimited substitution so most players had to go both ways, offense and defense. I was playing safety during a game with Akron and the receiver and I both went up for a high pass. Unfortunately I came down first and the Akron player landed on my foot. It broke three metatarsal bones, and that was the end of my football career. By the time my foot healed I had already gotten a job with the computer group that was paying me more than what my athletic scholarship covered, so I guess I just stayed retired."

I told Maribeth that I did miss playing football, but that I thought the Army and football had a lot in common. I kind of thought of myself as the "quarterback" of my platoon, just like I had been a real quarterback in school. Both required study and preparedness and both required the rest of the team to believe that you knew what you were doing.

Somewhere in the middle of all this Philosophy, Maribeth had moved from her position at the end of the sofa and had scooted to my end and was resting in my arms. My chin just cleared the top of her head and I could smell her hair. My arms encircled her and I was playing with the knot of her robe.

One of the things I really appreciated in our relationship was the shared freedom we granted to each other to just do what we wanted with each other's bodies in whatever way we desired. I was aware that I was constantly caressing and fondling Maribeth pretty regularly, but she seemed to welcome my attention and never once berated me by asking if sex was all I thought about. I had told her once that, no, it wasn't the only thing, but with her around, it was a regular thing. This got a knowing smile from her and she admitted that she did enjoy my playful folding of her body, it made her feel wanted.

I assume these thoughts were intruding while I was comparing the Army to football, because from my position I could see down the open neckline of Maribeth's robe to where the the material had bunched revealing the full globe of one pale breast. It was the view that Maribeth would have of herself, and naturally I felt compelled to reach in and cover it with my hand and squeeze the softness. For the next few minutes, I gently played with it as I finished my thoughts.

The rain was beating harder on the windows when Maribeth twisted enough to allow us to kiss. I was still caressing her as our lips met. It was soft and tender, and at times it was as if we were barely in contact. I was exploring her softness with my own and occasionally a tongue would just peek out to savor a taste, but there wasn't any passion. It was a kiss of contentment.

We had fallen into a conversational lull interspersed by the tender kisses. I hadn't been conscious of the radio which had been playing in the background all morning, but as Maribeth laid in my arms, I found myself humming an accompaniment to a song being played, soon I heard Maribeth hum it too. For a long time we held each other like that. Whatever thoughts we were having were unspoken and we just savored the moment. Most of the time my eyes were closed and I think Maribeth's were too.

After awhile, I untangled myself from Maribeth and put out some cheese and crackers for a light lunch. After the breakfast of SOS, neither of us was overly hungry, but a light snack was in order. Maribeth had gone to the bathroom and when she emerged, she'd fixed her hair in the same pigtail wrap that I had only seen once before. She looked super cute.

We munched cheese and crackers and talked about a lot of trivial things. For some reason, Maribeth was interested in what weapons we'd have to protect ourselves in Vietnam. I told her that we had five jeep mounted machine guns, but since we were a logistical unit, we only had personal weapons. In my case, I had an M-14 rifle that was locked up in the armory and a handgun which was in my dresser. "You have a gun in your dresser?" Maribeth asked. "Sure," I said, "Do you want to see it?" She nodded, wide eyed and I left to get it.

When I returned I laid an M-1911 on the table. 1911 was the year that this pistol had first been put into service, and now, fifty years later, it was still the standard handgun of the US Army. Pretty impressive I thought. I ejected the magazine and handed it to Maribeth. As I suspected, she gave a gasp when she held it. It weighed almost six pounds and was definitely not a ladies gun. I showed her how to handle it with a two hand grip and she sighted out the window.

I explained that soldiers are taught to first take care of their weapons before they take care of themselves. I said we all learned to field-strip our weapons and put them back together blind folded, and after a time we could do it in seconds. Maribeth generally understood this was what we needed to do to clean the weapon, but she seemed skeptical that it could be done in seconds.

I laughed and taking the pistol from her, I said, "time me." She looked at her watch and said "go." My fingers were a blur and without tools, soon all twenty-three parts of the 1911 lay on the table. Maribeth looked up, "seventeen seconds," she announced. "Yeah, I'm a little rusty" I replied. I picked up a couple of the parts and showed her how one could be used as a tool to release the other. I said that I thought this was pretty clever. Maribeth nodded as I put it back together, and said, "people just don't understand how talented you are."

That compliment demanded a kiss which Maribeth returned in kind. We pecked each other back and forth for a minute before I picked up the magazine and returned the 1911 to it's place in the bedroom. I parted the curtain and noted that the rain was not abating, and the chill from outside was beginning to seep inside. I informed Maribeth that there wasn't any point in going out before dinner, so I suggested that we could play pool in the "ready room." I knew She could play, so we threw on some more clothes and headed down.

As I expected, the room was empty, so I handed Maribeth a cue and a piece of chalk before I racked the balls. I asked her, "eight ball, nine ball or rotation?" She looked puzzled, so I explained that these were all different games you could play on a pool table. She said she was only familiar with the game where one person tried to sink the solid colored balls and the other did the same with striped balls. I nodded and said, "that's called eight ball, because after you sink all of your balls, only the eight is left. That's how I racked them, so you can break."

Maribeth said she hadn't played in awhile, but if so, she recovered quickly. She pocketed three balls in a row before an unlucky miss. I did the same, then it was back and forth until only the eight ball was left. Maribeth had a long shot and missed, but the eight ended up just in front of a pocket. It was such an easy shot that I felt embarrassed. Maribeth must have read my mind, because she said, "don't even think about missing that." I won two more games until Maribeth legitimately won her first one. When she pocketed the eight ball she ran around the table waving her arms and yelling, "I won!"

Just then Bill Rigney walked in and saw Maribeth's exuberance. Looking at me he said in his Alabama drawl, "your girlfriend I assume." I nodded and introduced Maribeth, "Bill is the guy who gave me the flight jacket." Maribeth looked slightly embarrassed, but she shook Bill's hand while I fetched three beers from the fridge.

Bill was in his late forties and was scheduled for retirement in a few months. He was a maintenance warrant officer for the helicopter squadron of the 11th Cavalry, but he would not be deploying to Vietnam when they did early next year. For the next two hours we sat and talked. Bill was the stereotype southern gentleman and he regaled us with stories of his experiences from around the world, including some about his two ex's. Bill asked me if Maribeth knew about Rusty's and Sledgehammer's, and I said yes and in fact I was considering taking her to Rusty's for dinner. Maribeth clapped her hands and reached for Bill's arm, "you come too." She said, and I nodded.

We took Bill's car because it sat more than two and soon, just outside of the Odenton gate we pulled in under a red sign that said "Rusty's Bar and Grill." The place was mostly a bar, but had about twenty tables that surrounded a small dance floor. Rusty's had live music on Fridays and Saturdays, but on Tuesday we just listened to the jukebox. About half of the tables were occupied. We got one near the back corner which was the quietest spot in the place.

The menu was rather limited, but I asked Maribeth if she had ever had Carolina BBQ pulled pork? She said no but if I thought it was good, to just order for her. I knew it was Bill's favorite so the order was simple; three "Natty Bo's" and three BBQ sandwiches. Over the last several months, Bill and I had met and talked to most of the waitresses in the place, so it was kind of funny watching Maribeth's reaction as one after another stopped by our table. I was pretty sure Bill had shared a bed with at least two of them, but I kept that little piece of information to myself.

Being a Tuesday, it was a quiet night for Rusty's. Maribeth found she liked Carolina BBQ and the steady stream of people we knew. We got in a couple of dances and Maribeth even danced with Bill once. It was funny watching her tiny body trying to follow Bill, who was 6'3" and weighed about 260#. I couldn't tell if they were really dancing or if Bill was just carrying her around the floor.

We called it a night around 9:30 after three beers. Maribeth gave Bill a big kiss and got an invitation to visit Alabama 'real soon.' The rain had finally stopped and we said our goodbyes just inside the door. Bill's room was on the first floor and of course mine was on the second. We watched the ten o'clock news on a station based in Washington. It was mostly about the build up in Vietnam, some protest groups, and a shooting. The weather promised a sunnier and dryer day tomorrow, but since it was going to be the one day I was going to have to work I didn't pay much attention.

A little before eleven Maribeth and I were cuddled together under two blankets. Except for relieving ourselves of the beer and brushing teeth, getting ready for bed consisted of losing all of our clothes and hopping in. I always liked to be first because I liked to watch Maribeth's naked body as she maneuvered herself into position to get in bed.

Since she had found her "lost" birth control pills, I felt more comfortable that if nature chose to take it's course that the fumbling around with a condom could now be avoided. I had chalked up that experience Saturday night to a teaching moment, but it was obvious that neither Maribeth nor I needed to repeat the lesson.