The Queen of Shangri-La

The draft uprooted me and then gave me two and a half years of life experiences -- most of them unpleasant. Yet, it also opened my eyes. More importantly, I'd known people who weren't like me. Everybody from tail-gunner Jimmy, through kind and gentle Laura, to peerless Maggie Hastings had built a new perspective for me.

The sum total of all of that had made me a different person. Patsy was better than she had ever looked, and I knew that she would make a loving and faithful wife. But I had been too many places and done too many things to ever be satisfied working at the Grange. So, I was friendly with Patsy and even affectionate with little Erik -- yes, she'd named the kid after me.

Of course... Maggie Hastings was the primary factor in that decision. Patsy didn't know Maggie. But she could sense that I'd moved on, and there was no turning back. I later heard that Patsy married Heinrich Dorf and was happily popping out a kid a year. She got the life she wanted. But it wasn't for me.

*****

After my discharge, I used the GI Bill to enroll in the Engineering School at UW. I was still only twenty-three. and just a few years older than my classmates. So, I was assigned a room in Slichter Hall just like every other freshman. But I had already had a lifetime of experience. They hadn't.

They were children, and they acted like kids away at summer camp for the first time. I was used to barracks life. So, the racket didn't bother me. But the freshman hijinks drove me nuts. Naturally, I reverted to the way I was in the Army. Meaning... I became the same loner that I was in Hollandia. I attended class, studied, and kept to myself. Needless to say, I wasn't the most popular guy on campus.

Nevertheless, I DID solve my virginity problem. Most of the student body was aware that I was the Shangri-La guy, which gave me a certain amount of notoriety. Especially since I exuded an air of brooding mystery. Seriously!! if you'd buried as many friends as I had... who wouldn't?

So naturally, I attracted the kind of silly romantic female who had notions of playing Catherine to my Heathcliff. Really... every one of those deluded women thought that they could cure me of my ennui. Of course, that wasn't going to happen. Because I'd discovered, to my utter horror, that I was never going to be able to move past Maggie Hastings.

God knows they all tried. I must have equaled the number of Maggie's conquests by the end of my sophomore year. And let me stop you right there... I was serially monogamous, not a manwhore like Jimmy. Meaning, I was never fucking more than one woman at a time.

But there was no spark -- no sense that I wanted to spend my life with any of them. I knew exactly what I wanted. I wanted to share my life with a person I could respect. A woman with the courage, and strength I'd seen in Maggie Hastings. I mean... you simply can't settle once you've seen what the pinnacle looks like. So, I kept moving, from one woman to another.

I mean, seriously!! I knew I could never have a normal life with a woman who wasn't up to the standard that Maggie set. Common sense spent time arguing with my psyche about that. But I finally accepted that I had to take a shot at Maggie. Because I kept comparing every other woman to her. Maggie might laugh in my face, as I assumed she would. But then I'd have my answer and I could move on.

Nevertheless, the fact remained that I was in love with a phantom... a ghost. I had no idea where Maggie was, or what she was doing. There was a short period after the war when the press still covered the Adventure Girl. So, at least I could keep track of her. But after four long years apart, Maggie might've just as well have been lost in Shangri-La.

Then without warning, my dilemma was solved by my roommate's Philco radio. I was sitting at my uncomfortable dorm desk one evening, trying to make sense out of thermodynamics, when I heard a name. There were such outlandish odds that it would be a name I recognized that I almost missed it. But I distinctly heard the words, "Maggie Hastings."

I bounded across the room, turned the volume all the way up and discovered that it was Ralph Edwards, "This is Your Life" show on the NBC network. The life that they were featuring that week was the Queen of Shangri-La. I thought, "So, they hadn't totally forgotten World War Two's Adventure Girl after all."

I sat in rapt attention while they reviewed Maggie's life, from her tomboy girlhood, to her volunteering for the WACs, to the crash and its aftermath. The story was phony as hell - featuring things like the Dani throwing spears at our C-47 as it crashed and her unrequited love life. Even then... American media was geared to the lowest denominator. The key fact was that Maggie was living in Owego, New York.

At the end of the show, Edwards asked Maggie about her marital plans. I mean... she was single and female, she must have plans. My spunky little friend told Edwards - in no uncertain terms -- that she didn't know whether she could ever, "Go for the kind of man who's supposed to make a good husband." Maggie didn't suffer fools and she always said it like it was.

The only fact I cared about was that Maggie was still unmarried. That was when something Maggie had told me began to reverberate through my brain like a newsflash from heaven. When I'd asked her if I'd ever see her again. She'd said, "That depends on you Cowboy," and suddenly it all made sense. Destiny was setting the table and this time I wasn't going to disappoint the woman of my dreams.

I wasn't the naïve little weenie Maggie had met at Rosies. And I was infinitely wiser and more experienced than the guy she'd thrown her challenge down-to, the night before we returned to Hollandia. I said to myself, "I might not make a good husband. But I can be a great lifelong companion."

When I'd signed up to live in a dorm, I had worked out an accommodation with the University to let Buster live with me. Any guy who has been to war needs somebody like Buster. They knew that I was a vet, and they also knew that I'd been semi-famous, at least for a few months in 1945. So, their only condition was that Buster did not cause them any heartburn.

I had no hesitation making that deal because I knew that Buster was everything good about a dog. Full grown, he was about the size of a lab. He was brown and smelly, and he drooled a lot. But he was also the only creature I could talk to. He would lie with his chin on his paws, long ears draped over his front legs and love in his eyes, while I exorcised the demons that World War Two had implanted in my mind.

As soon as the show ended, I turned to Buster and said, "Well, old buddy. I think the time has come for me to grow a set. I always felt like Maggie was out of my league. But I'm not the backward and naive little boy I used to be. So, I've gotta give her a shot. I mean... I can't live my life forever looking backward... So, I need to get my ass to Owego ASAP and close this deal."

I thought for another second and added, "If Maggie feels the same way I do then I'll know that I have somebody I can cherish for the rest of my life." Of course, I had to wait for the semester to end. But I'd already let almost four years pass.

The moment I had my new engineering degree, I headed for the town of Owego. Only rich people traveled by air in those days. So, Buster and I took the Twentieth Century Limited to Grand Central, then the Greyhound to Owego. They made me buy him a seat on both.

Owego is a dreary little blue-collar town in the middle of southern New York, close to the Pennsylvania border. It's a crossing point on the Susquehanna River, which is probably the reason why people settled there. Most of Wisconsin looks just like that place. So, I felt right at home.

It was raining as the bus dumped Buster and me at the stop across from the Tioga County Court House. I headed for the shelter of the Court House because I knew that it would have a phone book. There was only one M. Hastings in the book. She lived on Paige Street. So, I asked the guard loitering by the door of the Court House to show me how to get there.

He got an angry look. Then, he laughed and said, "You ain't gonna get anything out of her."

I said, truly puzzled, "What are you talking about?"

He said, challenging, "You're here to talk to the Adventure Girl, ain't you?" I got it. There must have been herds of reporters still trying to interview Maggie.

I chuckled and said, "I AM looking for Maggie Hastings. But I was one of the guys she survived the plane crash with. I just wanted to look her up and see how she was doing."

Anybody hearing that would take that statement for a grain of salt. Guys only wanted to talk to Maggie Hastings because she was a legendary beauty. But still, the guard's demeanor changed. He said, with a certain amount of respect in his voice, "You were one of the fellows who lived with Maggie among all them cannibals?"

I said, starting to feel impatient, "Right you are... Now where's her house?"

He smiled and said, "Maggie works at the hotel over there, and he pointed at a structure on the river."

He added, "Her dad used to manage it but he's sick. She moved back to help him."

I got a couple of things out of that conversation. First, although Owego was bigger than my hometown, it was no different. Everybody knew everybody else's business. The second was the absurd image of tough and feisty Maggie Hastings as the dutiful daughter. She was a mystery wrapped in an enigma.

The rain had stopped. So, Buster and I sauntered the three blocks over to Maggie's place of business. It was a hotel and the appearance of a disheveled stranger in the foyer along with his smelly dog drew the immediate ire of the desk clerk. He shouted, "You can't come in here with that." He was referring to Buster.

I said mildly, "I'm here to see Maggie Hastings. Could you please ask her to step out on the porch. I'll wait for her there."

Time passed while I stood, hands in my pockets, watching the swollen Susquehanna roll by. Then the screen door banged open, and Maggie charged out on the porch, fire in her eyes. Apparently, the desk clerk had told her that a vagrant and a mongrel wanted to see her, and she was royally pissed.

Maggie hadn't changed in the slightest. She was as petit as ever. She had grown her honey blond hair out to the point where it was before I'd cut it off. Her dazzling, highly expressive face was less tanned than it was when I'd last seen her. But her huge hazel eyes were as beautiful as ever. And of course, standing there on a damp porch in the middle of a rainy day she simply radiated sex appeal.

Maggie's expression went from fury to disbelief, then there was a flash of utter joy before the shutters slammed shut and her eyes were just as challenging and enigmatic as ever. That was all I needed to know.

Maggie took another couple of steps toward me. Then she stood there, silently studying me, Like I was a horse she was thinking about buying. I wouldn't have been surprised if she'd pried open my mouth to count my teeth. She tilted her head to one side and said in her husky voice, "So, you finally got the hint?"

I answered just as coolly, "You said it was up to me. So here I am." Then I paused and added, "Squirt."

Her eyes twinkled as she said, "I DID say that. But I never thought you'd work out what I was telling you. I thought you'd be feeding cows in some hick town in Wisconsin."

I said proudly, "Maybe you underestimated me - just like I did you at first. I have a Badger engineering degree, now."

Then I paused and added casually, "So what've you been doing since the rescue. You were famous for a while. But I kinda lost track of you until that radio show last month. That's how I knew where you were."

Maggie said, slipping back into the easy banter that we had during our time in the Baliem Valley, "Well I was at Syracuse for a while. But I found out that I like to party more than study. So, I'm back here temporarily, until I find something else. It'll probably end up in the Big Apple."

I said, heart in my throat "Would you entertain an alternative proposition?"

She gave me a look that nearly made me burst into flames and said, "Maybe, what do you have in mind?"

I said, "Is there some place a little less public where we can talk?"

Maggie said, "I have an office. But that mangy thing will have to stay out here. Is that the dog Spanky gave you when we left? He's grown up." She nodded at Buster who was sitting next to a porch pillar, one leg pointed up, as he delicately groomed his unmentionables.

I looked at Buster. He paused what he was doing, leg still cocked, and said, "No worries boss... Just tie me up out here. I don't want to go in there, anyway."

I wrapped Buster's leash around the post and followed Maggie's perfect round buns as she swayed their way past the disapproving desk clerk. Whether that butt was clad in an ugly WAC's uniform, or in the pleated wool skirt she had on today, Maggie's ass and legs were a national treasure.

Maggie had a small apartment on the opposite side of the lobby from the desk. It was a combination living quarters and hotel office. She sat down behind the desk and motioned for me to sit in the chair opposite. She wasn't going to make it easy. But that was my girl. Maggie took no prisoners.

I'd been stone cold sure of myself a moment ago. But I was nervous now, as I said, "You know why I'm here. So, let's talk." Her huge nearly amber eyes got an amused look as Maggie said, "Talk."

I said, "I've thought about this a lot since we left the Baliem Valley. Most people wouldn't have survived what happened to us. But we made it - and we did it because we worked together -- just you and me." I paused and added meaningfully, "It formed a bond. I know you felt it, too."

Maggie nodded in agreement. So, I went on with, "I was small town America when we first met... reserved, naïve, self-conscious, and judgmental. But I got a bit smarter and a whole lot hipper after the crash - so, I deal with the world as it is, now -- not the way I want it to be.

I paused for emphasis and added, "That's all due to you. I never thought of us as a romantic couple, and I don't suppose you did either. But the fact remains that I am still alone because I haven't met a woman who comes close to measuring up to you."

I finished with a hopeful look on my face, "You're the only person I know I can respect. So, here I am hoping that you feel the same way... and maybe we could see what happens if we try life together."

Maggie looked thoughtful for a minute. It was obvious that she had been thinking the same thing. Finally, she said, "When I was growing up, all a girl wanted was to find a guy to take care of her. I've always been different that way, because the idea of marriage, or even coupling up, suffocates me."

I must have looked dejected because Maggie hastened to add, "I like men. I like sex. And one of these days I'll find a guy who understands what equality in a relationship really means. The way I see it, a man and a woman are either partners - or there's no point in being together. Seriously... how are we going to watch each other's back if one of us thinks the other one is inferior? It's a matter of mutual respect."

Maggie gave me one of her patented flirty smiles and said, "My problem is that guys see how I look and act, and they let jealousy get in the way of their common sense. I know I wind men up. I can't help that. But the quickest way to turn me into an unfaithful bitch is to not trust me."

I started to say something, but she interrupted, "If I make a commitment then I live by it. That's who I am. But there's no way I can prove that except over time. So, the man I'm with has to be able to ignore the effect that I have on men and understand that they can trust me. Because doubting me questions my integrity and my honor is very important to me."

Maggie paused, like she was getting to her final point and said, "I mean... I'm motivated by what I think is right. So, if I promise to do something, then you had better believe I'll do it. I haven't met a man so far who understands that about me."

She concluded with, "At first, I thought that all your brotherly attitude was pathetic -- like maybe you were a queer or something. Then it dawned on me that you were treating me exactly as I wanted to be treated... as an equal, a comrade -- and companions don't try to fuck each other. The other guy," I assumed she meant Walter, "Was always angling to get his hand up my dress."

Then Maggie stopped - paused - and said, like it pained her, "Why didn't you even make a pass? You would have succeeded - you know. Hell... I even got naked in front of you and all you did was shoo off those kids who were throwing rocks at me."

I said, with deep emotion in my voice, "You were my friend and companion. We were together in a very tough situation and you never failed me. So, my feelings for you ran a whole lot deeper than a simple roll in the hay. I loved your unconquerable spirit, not your stunning beauty. You are the person I admire the most in this world."

I poured every ounce of sincerity into my next statement, "You're everything I value in a person -- tough, smart, brave, and yet kind, compassionate and caring. Seeing you as a sexual conquest, like most guys would, just felt so wrong." Maggie looked like she was going to melt into a puddle right in front of me.

I added with a laugh, "Plus, I knew that you would have killed me if I made a move on you back then, I was totally inexperienced and inhibited. But four years on a college campus teaches you a few things besides calculus - and I think I'm your equal in that department now."

She got the familiar challenging look in her eye, walked around the desk, stood in front of me and said decisively, "Prove it, Cowboy!!"

Maggie Hastings was a hundred pounds of lightning in a bottle. I scooped her up without a word. She yelped, just like she did when I picked her up to carry her out of the jungle. I plopped her fabulous butt down on the edge of her desk. She threw her arms around my neck... and we kissed for the first time.

It felt like the solar system ground to a halt and unimaginable cosmic forces were unleashed.

All of the women I had ever kissed before receive the kiss; they didn't do the kissing. Maggie was a squirming bundle of sexual energy, and she was the aggressor. Her arms tightened around my neck, as she pulled herself into me."

A little time passed as Maggie tweaked and devoured my mouth with her beautiful, sculpted lips. They were constantly in motion. Then she wrapped her legs around my ass and said urgently, "MOVE!!!" I understood what she was telling me to do. There was a single bed in the adjoining room. Maggie must have slept there as the Manager.

I turned and walked toward the bed, cautiously navigating while having the most erotic experience of my life. Tiny Maggie clung like a spider monkey, fiercely kissing me. I plopped her down on the bed and shed my pants like they were on fire. Maggie shucked her blouse and bra with the same enthusiasm.

Then, she reached down and skinned her panties down her leg -- it was the same move she'd made when she took them off to stop Decker's bleeding. She bundled her skirt up to her middle and gave me a scorching look. I lingered for an instant to savor her fabulous body.

Maggie Hastings was gorgeous, with wide perfectly shaped breasts perched on her rib cage like a couple of nesting doves, an uncannily tiny waist, a flat stomach, and powerful, womanly hips. But her legs were her real glory.

Even with the pronounced burn scars. Maggie's thighs were longer and sleeker than average, and her lower legs were strong and muscular. It gave her the same leggy appearance as every animal built for speed.