Four weeks left in this hell hole, I thought, as I headed to my tent and a sorely needed shower. I had no doubt that these last weeks would feel as long as the 21 weeks that preceded them.
I had been a happy civilian until July 1990 when it was realized that there would be no diplomatic solution to Iraq's invasion of Kuwait. The letter that was delivered to my home one hot Saturday morning informed me that I was being activated and was ordered to report to Fort Bliss in two weeks to begin retraining. The letter advised me that "my services" would be required for a minimum of 180 days, depending on the "exigencies of the service." If I thought it was hot that morning, I had no idea what HOT was going to be like.
I stayed in the National Guard after being honorably discharged after four a four- year stint, figuring it would be some extra cash and if I stayed in for twenty, I'd get small pension to supplement my retirement plan. At thirty- one I was still in pretty good shape but I wasn't the twenty two year old that had been discharged eight years ago. That is when I had last seen the inside of an armored vehicle. I had gained some rank in the reserves so now I was Staff Sergeant Joseph Malloy.
I have been very happily married to Denise for the past six years and we have a son Billy, who was four years old at the time of my recall. My wife and I wanted to have two children and she had recently gone off the pill in hopes of achieving that goal when Uncle Sam provided - coitus interruptus.
Denise is a year older than me, a fact that I continually tease her about. We had been introduced by a mutual friend and I think it was love at first sight for both of us. She is half German and half Scottish and her reddish blonde hair frames a pretty face with high cheekbones and green eyes. At 5'7" and 120 pounds, she has smallish breasts but long sculptured legs that I consider her best feature.
I was twenty- five and she twenty- six when we married and although neither of us were virgins, she had only two intimate relationships before me and if you count Mary Jane Cashen, who probably wouldn't recognize you on the street if you had fucked her the night before, I had three.
Still, we were pretty well versed on the art of providing sexual satisfaction to one another, at least four times a week.
I'm 5'11", 178 pounds and not unhappy with my reflection in the mirror. I wouldn't audition for a porn film but have never had any complaints about my equipment. I wouldn't call myself a faithful husband because being unfaithful never entered my mind and until recently I thought my wife was on the same page.
As part of Desert Storm there had been a lot of action when I first arrived in Iraq but there was really no contest between Iraqi forces and ours. The war had long since waned and now our biggest enemy was the heat, the sand and the boredom. There was an occasional report of a pocket of resistance but most were proved to be false or the enemy was nowhere in sight when we arrived in our Abrams M1A1.
Almost all of the men in my unit, (there were no women) were reservists and to the man we were pissed off at the fact that we were no longer needed but were forced to remain here for the duration of our recall, away from our families and careers.
The only thing that had kept me from going nuts was the, almost, daily letter I received from Denise. Usually it included a few pictures of her and Billy and some of my mom and dad. Denise was particularly close to both of my parents since hers had retired and moved to Florida and we didn't get to see them often.
Over the past couple of months however, I had noticed that my wife's letters had dropped from four or five a week to two, maybe three. I knew that it had to be tough to come up with new things to say almost every day but I was still disappointed when a letter didn't arrive. But hell, I was in the same boat, trying to think of things to say. By now Denise must have heard about every guy in my unit, their wives and their children. There wasn't much else to write about. I lived in a tent in a desert where every day it was 115 degrees in the shade, it never rained and the most exciting thing that ever happened was the occasional sand storm.
So, I was happy to see a letter sitting on my bunk when I returned that afternoon to my tent but I decided to take my shower and purge the smell of diesel fuel from my pores and rid myself of the sand that inevitably found its way into every body cavity, before I opened it. The envelope was pretty thick so I knew there must be some pictures in it and I wanted to be able to chill out and look at them at my leisure. Last week had been my son's fifth birthday so I was sure that there would be some party photos. I couldn't wait to see "my little guy" again and then get working on giving him a playmate.
My anger rose at the thought of missing Billy's birthday. I should be home in bed making love to my wife after tucking my son into bed. "Oh well, I thought, four more weeks"
I put the letter aside after opening the envelope and fanned through the five pictures enclosed. The first was a picture of Billy blowing out the candles. Denise was bent down next to him with her beautiful smile, looking at the camera. No doubt, my dad, the amateur photographer, had taken the shot. Denise was wearing a low -cut black, silk blouse and while bending over to get her face in the frame, a large amount of cleavage was exposed as a result. Knowing Denise, I was sure it was intentional and it certainly had the intended effect because my very neglected "little friend" was stirring in my shorts.
The next picture must have been taken by my wife because it was of Billy sitting on the floor in my parents living room, ripping the gift wrap off of a birthday present as my mom sat next to him and dad sat in his favorite chair. The next shot must have been set on a timer because it was of all four of them and was taken at a farther distance than the first two. The camera angle had cut off their feet but what got my attention was the short, tight beige skirt that Denise was wearing.
Something was nagging at my brain and I went back to the first picture and realized that my wife was wearing make up and her hair was done up instead of being in its usual pony tail.
I thought it a little odd but I moved on to the fourth picture which showed Denise squatting down next to our son as he attacked yet another package. Several things aroused my curiosity, I won't say suspicions, because Denise has never given me cause to question her fidelity. However, I knew that I wouldn't be the first soldier whose wife had strayed while her husband was away from home for so long. Two guys I knew here had been sent "Dear John's by their wives and one of the guys in my tank crew received a letter from a friend informing him that his fiancé was doing the horizontal hula with a coworker.
The next odd thing in the picture was the fact that she couldn't squat very low because of the restraint that the tight skirt placed on her mobility. In that position, her skirt was half way up her thighs, accentuating the curve of her lovely ass. Next fact was the four- inch high heels which she had on were emphasizing her shapely legs. The last fact was that my parents large bay window was in the background and it was dark outside. Dressed as she was, the only conclusion I could reach was that Denise was either coming back from somewhere or planning on going somewhere.
