Danish Pastry

Danish Pastry

Willy Brennan is an Irishman and my best friend. His parents came from Connemara, where his father had been a fisherman. When Willy was two, his parents decided to join his uncle in America; Louisiana to be exact. When they arrived, they lived in a mobile home for the first three years while his father worked on a shrimp boat with his uncle. By the time Willy was nine, his father owned two shrimp boats of his own and they moved into a nice house which, coincidentally, was three houses down from my own. He and I became fast friends and went through middle school, high school and college together.

I took ROTC and went into the US Army immediately after graduation. Willy went to Connemara to visit relatives. He and his family: father, mother, and three sisters had made regular trips back for years. He ended up spending a year there with his grandmother.

My first duty station after receiving my Commission was BOLC (Basic Officer Leadership Course). The purpose was to teach basic leadership skills. It was a bit rougher than what my ROTC Instructors meted out, but overall, not too bad.

After that, I was sent on a three-year assignment to Casteau, Belgium, and SHAPE (Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe - NATO's Military arm) where I worked as the most junior and inexperienced officer in the headquarters.

All of the NATO countries sent their absolute best there because they represented their countries to the rest of the world. I felt extremely lucky and assumed someone made a mistake by sending me there.

I had been there three months and Willy asked if I could "pop over" to Connemara for the weekend. We hadn't seen each other since graduation so I told him I would. In getting transportation, I discovered that contrary to what I'd believed most of my life that Connemara was not a city. It was a region. To get there. I would fly into Limerick where Willy would pick me up and take me to his grandmother's house in Clifden.

The drive took a little over two hours and took us past Galway Bay and through Galway itself where we stopped to eat... and drink. Drinking with him was something I had done quite a bit.

We had our first samples of alcohol when we were 13. We raided my parent's bar and got royally drunk... and were both royally sick and royally punished. We didn't touch alcohol again for a long time.

So, we were in a Pub in Galway, Ireland, catching up on the last few months. He told me that his grandmother was doing well and happy that he was with her. She was trying to convince him to stay and had introduced him to a couple of local lasses.

He had always been proud of his Irish heritage, but seeing him in that environment, it seemed like he was home.

His grandmother was wonderful and even at her age, I could imagine that she had been an attractive young lass. Some people, as they grow older, seem to show their age and it isn't very complimentary. Others, on the other hand, age very well; Katie Brennan was one of those. She could have passed for Willy's mother.

And she was active socially. Very active. And popular. Very popular. She passed most of her time matchmaking. A couple of hours from Clifden was the town of Lisdoonvarna and the nation's largest matchmaking festival. She had started a much smaller festival in Clifden and her goal was to make it even bigger than Lisdoonvarna's.

Her first words to me were, "So you're the little shit who always tried to lead my Willy astray." I don't know what all he had told her, but I liked her immediately.

That was the start of a fun filled two days. I met the girl she was determined Willy was going to stay in Ireland and marry. Her name was Sophie and both she and Willy were under no illusions about what Katie Brennan wanted, but Willy had no intention of staying in Ireland and Sophie had no intention of leaving, but they liked each other and were "an item".

Sophie was born and grew up in Clifden so knew lots of people. She invited some of them to meet me at her and Willy's favorite pub.

I'd like to say the Irish lasses were free with their affections, but that wasn't the case. Not that I tried very hard. Americans tend to not have very good reputations in some places around the world. So, like in Belgium, I was on my best behavior. That was one of the first things I learned in BOLC. It was impressed on us that whatever country we found ourselves stationed in that we were guests of that country and subject to their laws and anything that would embarrass us as individuals or The United States in general would be frowned on; both by the Army and the country we were in.

So, I tried to be a good guest. At one point that first evening I tried to buy a round of drinks for our little group, but was quickly told that I was their guest.

"I grew up knowing," said Willy, "that the Irish are a generous and kind people... until you cross them... then you're pretty well fucked unless and until they decide to forgive you."

One of Sophie's girl friends and I stayed pretty close together that evening and the next. Her name was Maeve and she was what you might expect an Irish lass to be. Long, thick, red hair with rosy skin and a personality and wit that kept you laughing and guessing all at the same time.

When I left to return to SHAPE, she came to Katie's house to say goodbye. She took my phone and added her address and phone number to my contacts. I did the same to hers. She then kissed me on the cheek and left.

During the course of the two evenings I was there, individuals or couples would disappear from our little group and new ones would appear. Willy told me the first evening that the Irish tended to leave social gatherings by just slipping away and not making a big deal of saying goodbye to everyone at the gathering. It apparently started when someone would get drunk and sneak away so as to not be embarrassed, but it became a popular way of leaving gatherings. It was known as the "Irish Goodbye" or the "French exit".

Maeve and I began texting and talking to each other. Over the next three months, several of my weekends were spent in either Clifden or Limerick with her.

For six months, Maeve and I saw each other whenever one of us could travel to visit the other.

At SHAPE, I enjoyed my work and the exposure to the international environment. My desk was in an office with Officers from Turkey, Italy, Great Britian and Denmark. The Danish Officer was a Captain from Copenhagen and was what you (okay, maybe not you, but I) would think of when I visualize a woman from Denmark: pure, unadulterated, beauty. Her name was Irene (pronounced Irena) and she seemed to get along with everyone in the office and everyone who came into the office, except me. Everything I did seemed to be wrong in her eyes.

After my first couple of weeks there, she and I just stopped communicating. She did her work and I did mine. At first, I tried to figure out what I did to alienate her, but couldn't think of anything. I hadn't been a jerk. I treated her with respect. I didn't slobber all over her like most people who met her did.

Watching her in action and listening to her showed me that she was both funny and intelligent. She was also efficient and did her job well. She was well respected for her abilities and appreciated for her looks. She just didn't care for me, and it showed. The others in the office commented that I was the only person they knew that it was obvious she didn't care for.

Our jobs were to "staff" position papers. That meant to guide them through the approval/disapproval process of the international headquarters. Coordinating with all those different countries was challenging, rewarding, and fun.

Anyway, after that first few weeks, I just said fuck it. She stayed in her little world and I stayed in mine, both mentally and physically. We even stopped greeting each other in the mornings when we first came into the office or saying good night at the end of the work day. Everyone else was cordial, respectful, and appreciative of the assistance and respect we provided each other.

Maeve came over one weekend and we were in my favorite bar right outside the back gate of the SHAPE Headquarters compound. We were taking our time with our Charcuterie and wine when Irene came in with another Danish Officer. We studiously ignored each other. Maeve and I left after another hour or so and went to my quarters where we spent the night.

Willy's grandmother thought Maeve and I would get married, but we didn't. We lasted nine months and enjoyed our time together, but we drifted apart.

Willy was still in Ireland, but was ready to go home, but not ready to leave Sophie. Katie didn't want him to go, but he wanted to get on with his idea of his life; not Katie's. Sophie, on the other hand, decided that if he was going home, she would go with him. I was his best man at their wedding in Clifden. Maeve was there with her date and introduced us.

I was ready to go home, too. So, I did. I took a two-week leave and flew home. After a week I was ready to get back to Belgium.

Back at work, the officer from Turkey was being reassigned and was going back to Turkey because his three-year assignment was over. A large group of his friends and co-workers met in the bar at the back gate and had a goodbye "get together" for him. The bar was packed. We bought him drinks and he handed out boxes of a delicious gelled national candy from Turkey called Turkish delight.

Living and working in an International environment was a great experience. I was welcomed into my co-workers' homes where I met their families and ate their food. Not a week went by that I wasn't invited somewhere.

I lived in the BOQ (Bachelor Officers Quarters) in my own room. Irene lived there as well, but at the opposite end of the building and down two floors, so I rarely saw her there. There was a kitchen available for community use, but I ate most of my meals at the Officers Club or the cafeteria in the Headquarters Building. The BOQ kitchen always had a different smell coming from it. Most of them were pleasant, some were not, and some were downright disgusting.

The main store in the small shopping center on the installation was a food store called the "Bon Marche" which loosely translated meant the good market or good deal. It was an amazing place to shop and very diverse. Food and products from all of the NATO Countries was available there.

Back at my Turkish co-workers' goodbye party, I had an early morning meeting so I decided to use the "Irish goodbye" and ducked out relatively early.

The next day's meeting started early and lasted until almost lunchtime. I was back in my office just in time to lock my meeting notes in my safe and leave for the cafeteria and lunch.

I had just gotten my lunch when Irene walked by with another female officer I didn't know.

To my surprise, she stopped. "Your predecessor never left a party early," she said sarcastically.

Out of force of habit, I stood to answer her. "Maybe my predecessor didn't have an early meeting the next day."

"And maybe he was better prepared for his meetings."

I looked at her, grinned, and said as pleasantly as I could, "have a nice lunch Captain Bundgaard." Then I sat. I never watched them walk away, although I had seen her walking away many times and always appreciated the view regardless of my personal feelings toward her.

My personal feelings toward her? What were they exactly? I really didn't know. I didn't hate her. I didn't even dislike her, but by the same token, she hadn't given me a chance to like her, so I had no idea how I felt.

I was still probably the most junior officer of any nation at SHAPE. I didn't dwell on it much and occasionally smiled because I still believed I was sent there by mistake and some poor clerk back in Washington at the personnel center had gotten in a lot of trouble for sending me.

By the time my first year was nearly up, other than Maeve, I had dated women from Italy, Great Britain, Greece, Portugal, and the U.S.. I was starting to get looks and comments from some of the other BOQ residents about my many dates and varied assortment of females. Even the three Italian Officers who lived there and were considered Casanovas called me "farfallone" which I heard meant womanizer or philanderer. I considered that high praise coming from them.

Living in an international community had many pluses. The BOQ was a melting pot for single officers, both male and female. We had officers from nine countries living there. It was a pretty special place.

The whole community seemed to adopt some of each other's holidays. American Halloween was a favorite for the kids and married friends of mine who lived in quarters on the installation enjoyed seeing kids from all over the world dressed in costumes with some really original designs and concepts ring their doorbells for candy.

The whole community also celebrated Germany's Octoberfest. That was one of the most popular and fun-filled of all holidays.

Thanksgiving... not so much. The international community couldn't get into the reason for that particular holiday.

Christmas, however, was Christmas the world over. I thought about going home for the holiday, but decided a weekend with a German Naval Officer who also lived in the BOQ was a better deal.

She and I went to Nuremberg for Christkindlesmarkt. It is a Christmas Market in the central square of Nuremberg's Old Town. Booths, lights, food, adventure, all rolled into one great time. The Brits knew how to put on a great ceremony with lots of Pomp and Circumstance, but the Germans knew how to throw a party.

We spent a weekend enjoying ourselves in Nuremberg shortly before Christmas. I didn't want to fight the hassle of traveling over the holiday so I decided to stay at SHAPE, which basically closed down for several days before Christmas Day. However, each office had to have someone there every day except Christmas Day. So our division chief posted a schedule. We watched as he put days of the week in one hat and our names in another. First, he randomly drew a day, then he randomly drew a name. He pulled Tuesday and my name. He drew Thursday and Irene's name. Friday was Christmas. One officer, the one from England, never had his name pulled so he was off all week. That week we only had to work on the day our name was pulled for.

I had heard Irene telling the others that she wanted to go home, but if she had to work Thursday, it would be impractical. Fuck! I didn't want to trade with her because I didn't want her to think she owed me... not that she would, but... Besides, if I worked all week, some of the others could go to their home country for the whole week and not have to stick around to work on their scheduled day.

I went into the division chief's office. "I'm not going anyplace for the holiday. Why not give the rest of the office the whole week off. It will be dead around here and I think I can handle anything that comes up."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, sir. Just one caveat."

"What's that?"

"Don't tell anyone I volunteered to do it. Just tell them it's covered."

"Are you sure?" He asked for the second time.

"Yes, sir."

That was Friday. Just before the end of the business day he came out and announced. "There's been a change. I've reviewed the schedule for next week. Most of the major players will be gone and there are no urgent deadlines, so all of you take the week off and enjoy the time with your families. Merry Christmas." There were cheers and from somewhere a bottle of champagne and glasses appeared. We all had some, wished each other all the bullshit we wish each other and got ready to leave. Irene hugged all the others and even wished me Merry Christmas. I returned the wish and they all left. The boss came out. "It's too early to regret it," he said, "and everyone's gone so you can't change your mind."

I smiled. "I won't regret it, sir. I'll enjoy the peace and quiet."

He put his hat on my desk and sat on the corner. "What's with you and Bundgaard?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. She is the most pleasant, easy-going person in the world unless you're around. Then she changes. It isn't like she turns mean, but she seems to tense up. Why is that?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I have no idea. We haven't spoken a dozen words in all the time I've been here."

"Well, something's going on. Between you and me, right after you got here, she asked her coordinator to transfer her back to Denmark. They put her off as long as they could, but they've found a replacement. She'll be gone by the middle of January."

"Like I said, I have no idea."

"Okay. She's good at what she does. I hate to lose her."

It was Tuesday of the following week. I was alone in the office. A Danish officer came in and smiled. "I guess it's your day to work."

I stood at attention. "Yes. Sir."

"What day does Captain Bundgaard work?"

"She doesn't, sir. She's off all week."

"All week?"

"Yes, sir."

"Is everybody off the whole week?"

"Yes, sir."

"And when are you off?"

"Friday, sir." Which was Christmas Day.

He started to leave and I started to sit, but he turned to look at me. I stood back up. He looked me up and down then left.

It was just after lunch on Thursday. I was going through the short stack of action papers on my desk, triple checking to see that I hadn't missed anything, when someone came strutting into the office. I looked up to see a German Four-Star Admiral headed for my desk. "Merry Christmas, Lieutenant," he said reaching out his hand for me to shake as I snapped to attention. "Why don't you close the place down and go home?"

"That's a good idea, sir. With your permission, I'll do just that."

"Splendid. You do that." And poof he was gone.

I followed him out and watched as he went down the hall and into every office apparently wishing Merry Christmas to everyone he saw.

There were three Four-Star flag officers assigned to Shape. The SACEUR (Supreme Allied Commander, Europe) who was an American, the DSACEUR (Deputy Supreme Allied Commander, Europe) who was British, and the COS (Chief of Staff) a German Admiral. I had met them all and had been in meetings with them all, so I recognized the COS. They were all very big deals in their respective countries and were considered the best in the world.

Christmas Day was Friday and I spent it in the BOQ with others who had chosen to stay. The weekend was quiet until Sunday evening when everyone started coming back.

I had to keep reminding myself how different Europe was from America. You could drive from Belgium, where I was, to Rome, Italy, in 15 hours. That's driving through parts of Germany, France, and Switzerland before getting to Italy. Christ, it takes around 13 hours just to drive across the state of Texas on Interstate 10. A lot of people stationed at Shape could go home to their respective countries pretty often.

Monday morning found everyone happy and excited to be back to work. That's because what we did WAS exciting. Most of the morning was spent with each person telling about their holiday. When it came to me, I didn't have a lot to say. "I called my mother and my best friend. I learned his wife was expecting a baby. That's about it for me."

"Didn't you go with Kristen?" Asked Tommy, the British Captain.

Kristen was the German Naval Officer I dated for a while and went to Nuremberg with. When he asked me, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Irene turn her back to us. "No. She needed to be home with her family."

That started a discussion on customs and traditions. Irene never joined the discussion. She stood and looked out the window until someone asked her opinion and she excused herself and left the room. What followed was another discussion which was started by the Italian asking me how many women I slept with over the holidays and continued with a debate on the number of dates I'd had since I had been at SHAPE and the reputation I was developing as a ladies' man.