Soldier Doll Ch. 02

Louise watched in silence as he packed his stuff, muttering all the while. At last he finished, turned to her, held her close.

"I didn't think this would happen, Lou, honest, I thought I was going to have some real time with you; maybe this is just a precaution, and I'll get stood down again soon. Whatever happens, I promise, I'll come back to you, soon as I can, I swear!"

They tried to make love, but neither one of their hearts was in it, Dylan too preoccupied with his upcoming mobilisation, and Louise worrying where he was going, and whether he'd come back to her. They turned in after a light dinner, but neither one of them slept much; Dylan held her close all night long, absorbing every detail of her, making as many memories of her as he could to keep for when he was away, and Louise holding him tightly, treasuring the now, not knowing when, or if, she'd ever see him again.

The drive to Nuneaton was silent, both of them still too preoccupied with their thoughts to chatter, Dylan worried about Louise; she'd not said a word since last night, and Louise already missing him, wanting him back, cursing the army, but saying nothing – in her heart she knew, this was what he wanted, and he'd be something less than what she knew he was if he didn't follow his own heart, the way she had.

When they arrived, she waited while he got his Travel Warrant notarised, and hugged him on the concourse, her head flat against his chest, listening to his heartbeat while they waited for his connection to Birmingham. At last, Dylan could stand the silence no longer, and pulled back to say something, but she grabbed his face and pulled him to her, kissing him long and passionately, desperately, clutching at him as though she could keep him from leaving.

Dylan kissed her back, all his longing for her coming out in his kiss, his arms tightening around her as though she could anchor him back, stop him from getting on the train. At last he broke their kiss, wiping the tears from her face with his thumbs, lightly pinching her nose to see her smile.

"I promised you I'd be back soon, and I will, and we'll be together, just like we said. This can't last forever, whatever it is – most likely we'll be deployed to run in and gather intelligence, then scram, quick-in, quick-out, no-one any the wiser; that's what we're there for, to make any ground assault easier for the regular boys, so I'm not looking at a long deployment, wherever it is – I'm guessing it's the Gulf again, so it's probably not going to be a protracted fire-fight!"

Louise listened to him, so confident and assured, and felt a surge of pride that her brother, her man, was one of the elite, trusted to do a job, and do it right, that damned few could do at all.

"Dyl, you be careful, OK? You promised you'd come back, I'm holding you to it – we have babies to make!" she smiled gently, and he smiled back, overcome with love and tenderness for this beautiful girl he loved and wanted so much, his sister.

"Don't worry, Lou, I promised to put a ring on your finger, and I will! Arhoswch i mi, Cariad Louise!" (Wait for me, darling Louise!)

Louise pulled his head down to brush his lips with hers. "Bydd i aros i chi, Cariad Dylan, i addo i chi!" (I will wait for you, darling Dylan, I promise you!) she smiled at him,

"Yn dod yn ôl yn fuan, Milwr!" (Come back soon, soldier!) she added, tears running down her cheeks, Dylan gently wiping them away and kissing her eyes.

When he arrived back in Hereford, he took a taxi to the Lines, wondering what was so important that they were being stood to. After reporting to the Guard Commander, he returned to his barracks to change into CS95 battledress, and waited to be told what to do next, along with all the other occupants of the barracks.

+++

Dylan jumped down from the ramp of the Hercules C-130, looked around in distaste. So this was Kuwait, Fort Blair Mayne Camp. What a fucking dump. At least some of his mates from 16th Air Assault were here, and he was being mustered with them, along with 1 Royal Irish and 2 Gurkha Rifles. No insignia were on show, he and all his team were wearing 16th Air insignia so as not to give away their presence. They were called to parade, and stood at ease as the Royal Irish CO, Col Tim Collins made his famous speech; "we go to liberate, not conquer... we will not fly our flags in their country...show respect for them...the enemy should be in no doubt that we are his nemesis...it is a big step to take another life..." the speech rolled on, reminding them that their duty was to be a credit to their country, that they would not revel in the killing of their fellow man, that they were liberators, not conquerors, and that they were there to remove a dictator. Dylan was moved by it despite himself.

That evening, his troop was mustered and armed up; they were all issued night vision binoculars, personal role radios, HK33's and clips, an assortment of HE, WP and smoke grenades, and pistols and clips, and split into six teams.

After they'd been briefed for their reconnaissance mission, the six teams piled into snatch Land Rovers, dangerously lightly armoured, but fast and agile, ideal for their purpose, and sped off to be dropped at their assigned positions.

For two days they sat on watch in their lay-up positions (LUP's), periodically sending coded sit-reps, sweeping for signs of troop concentrations or movements, mechanized columns, any sign the enemy was on the move, sleeping in shifts, each of them on a hair–trigger, keyed-up and expecting trouble. When it came, it was fast and brutal. The first warning Dylan got was the intense flare in his left eye as a sighting laser shone directly into it, the red glare seeming to go right through his eye and bounce off the back of his skull. As he swore and clapped his hand to his eye, someone opened up with a GPMG. Dylan couldn't respond; his eye ached and all he could see was a large purple circle filling his field of view. Blinded as he was, he brought his weapon to bear to return fire, trying to pinpoint where the MG position was by hearing alone, and an incoming round shattered on his HK33, batting it out of his hands, the fragments slamming into his left eye and side of his face. He screamed and went over backwards, and another round furrowed his temple. Dylan saw stars, tasted brass, and everything went dark and silent.

He was being bounced around, his head aching, the left side of his face and neck on fire, his left eye feeling like a needle was stuck in it. He stirred, feeling something on his face, across his eyes, and a hand slapped his hand away. "Leave it, Dylan, let the med team deal with it!" said a voice, one that he vaguely recognised, and he lay back, trying to work out where he was.

He was being driven somewhere, had something happened? What? He fumbled with his jacket; he was wearing a tactical vest, had he been injured on exercises? "What happened? "

"Iraqi patrol saw something moving, panicked, blew everything they had right on top of us, didn't spot the LUP at all, just got lucky. We got them all, though; you got smacked good in the face, looks OK now, just don't touch it, med team will sort it. Lucky fucker, you get to grope some Lumpy Jumper nurse, just make sure you pick a pretty one!"

The vehicle slid to a halt and he was lifted out, slid onto a waiting trolley and wheeled into a bright room, the lights showing round the edges of whatever was on his eyes. He was quickly stripped of his vest and DPM shirt, and felt his arm being swabbed. "Just a little sting, now, there we are. Count to ten, please Dylan!" He started counting out loud, and remembered no more.

He came round in a small tented ward, apparently he was the only occupant, all the other beds still had shipping plastic covers. He realised only his right eye was open, and felt his left, there was a large dressing completely covering his eye, more dressings on his cheek and the side of his neck. Just then a major walked in, stethoscope slung around his neck, smiled at Dylan and picked up his chart, flipped through it.

"So Dylan, how are you feeling?" he asked.

"I feel fine, except, why...what happened to ...my eye feels funny, sir, that's about all. What happened?"

The doctor looked at him, gently peeled back the dressing on his eye, looked grave for a moment, then taped it back with more micro-pore tape.

"Dylan, you were hit in the eye, face, and neck with bullet fragments from a jacketed round. We removed several fragment from your eye, and one had nicked your external carotid artery. You should thank your mates, they did a good job of stopping the bleeding and getting you back here in good time. Your neck is going to be fine, and your sutures are healing well, but you may have some minor scarring to your face.

However, the prognosis for your eye is not good. By sheer bad luck, you looked right into a laser sight or some other high-intensity coherent light source as someone was targeting you, it was apparently a low-power unit, but it was enough.

"The retina is scarred and flash-burned, while the lens was punctured by several smaller metallic fragments; it will be blurry when the dressing is removed. We can look at replacing the lens; laser surgery would not be helpful or advisable in your case, so an ocular implant, a refractive lens, might alleviate some of the blurring. The lacerated sclera and conjunctiva will heal nicely, and you can have a corneal graft to repair the damaged cornea, but the vision in your left eye is significantly impaired, and it's not going to improve over time.

I'm afraid your service days are numbered, Dylan – sorry, I don't know any better way to say it except to say it like it is. We can repair most of the damage, but the retina is too compromised to offer any realistic chance of better than about 50% visual acuity, and probably significantly less. I'm sorry."

He left Dylan to chew over his words. He was off Ops, that was for sure; nobody needed a one-eyed soldier, so what did he do now? He was thinking about that when a head poked around the corner. "Knock, Knock!" said a voice he recognised, and there was Captain 'Johnnie' Walker, grinning at him.

"I heard you were in here, didn't figure you for a sick-bay ranger, Dylan! Bloody hell, don't you look like England's last hope!" he grinned. Dylan couldn't help but grin back.

"I'm sorry about what happened, Dylan, I spoke with the doctor, he filled me in, bad luck, the one thing you couldn't plan on, happened. I suppose you know...?"

Dylan nodded. "Yes sir, I'll be signed-off and sent home. After that, well..."

Johnnie Walker took out a pen and a small notepad. "When you get home, call this bloke. He's always looking for people just like you, ex SAS, other specialists; I think you might find it worth your while. "

Dylan smiled lopsidedly. "Thank you sir, once I get home I'll definitely give him a call, see what happens."

"See you do, Dylan, I mean it, it might just be the best call you ever made!" he added cryptically.

Dylan was formally discharged on medical grounds from the armed services 3 weeks later. The hardest part for him was handing back his Winged Excalibur pin. His troop commander gave it back to him. "You keep it, Dylan, you earned it."

He wore an eye-patch over his damaged left eye, otherwise the dim, blurry image crossed with the perfect image from his good eye made him feel dizzy and sick. When he stepped off the plane he looked around, taking a deep breath, savouring his last day in service, and spotted Louise, jumping and waving her hands at him. He grinned and quickened his pace, almost running as he closed with her. She bolted for him, and he caught her, swinging her around, then bent down to kiss her, her arms going around his neck as she kissed him back, oblivious to the people around them, returning soldiers hugging their loved ones, caught up in each other. Waiting with the other families, so as to let them reunite first, Harry and Jane stared in shock at each other.

Louise was the first to speak, "Oh Dylan, look at your poor face, and your eye, Oh God, what happened, really? The Ministry of Defence didn't tell us anything except that you'd been injured and discharged, I've been worried sick!"

She gently stroked the barely healed stitches, feeling the corrugations where the bullet shrapnel had furrowed his cheek with a network of fine white scars.

Dylan filled her in with the bare facts, her eyes welling up as she learned of the true extent of his injuries. "Oh Dylan, I'm so sorry, on your first mission too, I really am sorry, I know how much the service meant to you!"

Dylan grinned back at her. "Not to worry, at least now you've got me full-time! Plus, I've got options, I've got a number to call, Johnnie Walker gave it to me, we'll see what happens. In the meantime, can we go home, I missed you?" he leered happily at her. He still hadn't seen Harry or Jane; they were both standing on his blind side.

Harry cleared his throat. "Umm, Dylan, we need to talk to you...about just now...you and Louise..." Dylan looked astonished to see them as he spun round, and looked puzzled, then his eye widened as he realised that they must have seen him kissing Louise, and not the way a brother's supposed kiss his sister...

"Oh, OK" he mumbled, his face reddening. Louise paled, but tightened her grip on his arm, sliding her arm through his and pulling herself closer to him.

"Uncle Harry, Aunty Jane, you saw us so you know," she began, "so there's nothing more to say; we know, and we know you won't approve, but this is what we want!"

Jane looked upset, ready to cry. "Louise, this is wrong, you...and Dyl, you can't be serious, he's your...Oh my God, think what you're saying, please, both of you...!"

Louise set her jaw. "Aunty Jane, Uncle Harry, thank you for coming along today, we appreciate it, really, but this is not the place to discuss this, nor the time. We'll come and see you on the weekend; I have to get back, I have classes and lectures, and Dylan needs some rest, so we'll see you on Saturday. Come on, Dylan!"

Dylan and Louise walked back to the civilian car-park, Harry and Jane trailing helplessly behind them, saying nothing, their eyes and expressions speaking volumes.

When they got to their cars, Jane pulled Dylan by his arm, and as he turned, hugged him and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Welcome home, Dyl, you poor boy, Im 'jyst yn falch eich bod yn ddiogel, anwylaf Dylan!" (I'm just glad you're safe, dearest Dylan!)

Harry watched as Louise drove away, thinking about what had just transpired. He was reluctant to say anything or condemn them outright, he wanted to know how long this had been going on, and work out if there was any way to make this come out right. Jane watched him, seeing the internal debate. Shaking his head, Harry pulled away, it was a long drive back to North Wales, no sense in delaying any longer; they'd speak about it on Saturday.

Louise drove in silence, flicking her eyes between the road and Dylan. He sat silently, lost in thought, or so it seemed. Actually, he kept reflexively trying to see out of the passenger-side window, but his covered eye meant he had to turn his whole head to do that, and it got to be tiring very quickly. Also, he was trying to not think about Louise too much – it was two hours or so to Leicester, it would seem much longer if he had to nurse a raging erection all the way there! After a while, Louise noticed he was asleep, poor baby, it must have been really tiring, flying all night in a C-130.

Dylan woke up as the car slowed before turning into the road Louise lived on, quick disorientation passing as the familiar front door came in sight. He jumped out and grabbed his bag from the rear seat, waited for Louise to open the door and stepped into his new home. He sighed at the thought, and took his bag through to the main bedroom, dumping his kit and shucking his shirt, changing into a khaki T-shirt. He looked at himself in the mirror, missing his unit already, knowing there was no way back in. "Well Dylan, you may bleed green, but you're a civilian now, get used to it!" he mused to his reflection, sighed again, and went looking for Louise.

She was in the kitchen, rooting around in the fridge, and as she stood up two hands came around her waist, slid up to cup her breasts, pull her back against what felt like a very healthy erection pressing between her bum cheeks.

"Hi, little girl, mind if I squeeze your tits?" whispered Dylan hoarsely in her ear, and she squirmed around to hold him, kiss him as she ground back against him, grabbing hold of his crotch and grinning into his lips.

"Hello, soldier, want to fool around for a while?" she whispered, and Dylan's hands slid down to take hold of her buttocks, pull her harder against him.

They kissed and ground against each other for a few more seconds before breaking to grin at each other, then made a break for the bedroom by mutual assent, hurtling through the door and tumbling onto the bed.

Dylan slid his hands under Louise's skirt, feeling her panties stretched tight over her taut bum, hooking his fingers into the waistband and sliding them down as far as he could, and clasping her warm, firm cheeks to squeeze and fondle them. Louise rubbed and squirmed against him, his erection felt solid and ready, and she wanted to feel it, hold it, experience it again; too many nights alone remembering how well he'd fucked her before had taken their toll, and she could only masturbate so much over their nights together before the need for him overwhelmed her. Now she had him back, and all her nerve endings were thrilling with the need for his body against hers, his cock moving inside her, his lips as he drove her crazy for him.

She fumbled with the button on his DPM trousers, Dylan quickly rolling her off him as he kicked them off, pulled his T-shirt off and helped her pull her top over her head. Louise pulled off her scrunchie and shook out her glorious hair, unzipping her skirt and letting it fall to the ground beside the bed, letting Dylan feast his eyes on her naked perfection. Slipping her panties all the way off, she slid next to him, Dylan lifting his hips to allow her to tug his shorts off and take hold of him.

He gathered her into himself, kissing her wildly, the way he'd been dreaming and wanting to for the last month, ever since he'd been curtailed off his leave, sliding his fingers into the cleft of her buttocks, rubbing her soft anus and sliding into her moist slit, making her gasp and giggle into his mouth. She in turn pumped and squeezed him gently, feeling the urgent solidity of his cock, wanting him, but wanting him to last as well, to extend the pleasure for both of them.

She broke their kissing to push him gently back down onto the bed, kissing his neck, his chest, down his torso to his groin, licking his cock from root to tip. Dylan gasped as her tongue skated over the tip of his cock, her tongue gently probing the slit and hole in the end, before sliding her lips over the end and sealing her mouth to him as she sucked him, the lowered pressure making the head swell and sensitize even further. She bobbed her head in a regular rhythm, sliding her lips down and then up his shaft, her tongue massaging his swollen, sensitized head the whole time, sucking gently but unrelentingly, the sensations crowding him, building him to the inevitable climax.

He came with an almost animal growl, a hoarse, barking shout of release, his sperm jetting out of his penis and coating the inside of her mouth, pooling on her tongue and filling her mouth, Louise swallowing as fast as she could to keep up with the outbursts of seminal fluid jetting into her mouth.

At last the pulsing flow of semen slowed, stopped, as his orgasm faded away, sated and relieved for now, the build-up of days and weeks of wanting her that no amount of masturbation could have relieved, Louise finally polishing the tip of his cock with her tongue, cleaning him off and grinning up at him, her beautiful green-hazel eyes dancing.