Alternate Memories - Ft. Meade

My mental alarm sounded at 6:15, and I pulled myself out of bed. As I had for the last several days, I took a moment to stare at the woman who remained asleep there. She was laying on her side, still curled in the spoon position, but of course without me now supporting her. Her hair partially covered her cheek with the rest flowing over the pillow. Only one thin bare arm was visible but it was enough to to spark a strong sexual emotion.

To me, women's shoulders, arms and hands appear almost too fragile, and I often wondered if nature designed them that way so men would feel a need to protect such a vulnerable creature. Of course I knew that it was just an illusion, because Maribeth was quite strong for her size. There had been times where she had demonstrated her physical strength, last night's coupling being only the most recent example.

Once dressed, I gave her one more gaze and reluctantly hit the pavement. The morning run was refreshing. The sun was just peeking over the trees and I could tell that it was going to be a nice day. Probably still a little cool, but above average for early December.

When I got back to the BOQ, I found Maribeth still snuggled under the covers just as I had left her forty minutes earlier. I had broken a sweat, but it was just a thin sheen on my skin and really didn't even require any toweling off. I had learned that Maribeth liked the way I smelled after a workout and so I didn't hesitate to tear off my clothes and jump back in bed.

She awakened immediately as my arms slipped around her and my body melded against hers. "Mmmmmmm," she whispered as she felt my lips kiss her neck and move to nip at her ear with just lips. My free hand slipped under one breast to cup and fondle the other and Maribeth moaned appreciatively as she pushed her soft butt against my hardness. In this position, I had all the freedom, so Maribeth was content to let me have my way with her.

I pushed her hair away from her cheek by just using my lips and I kissed the revealed skin. I was sure that Maribeth felt the scratch of my stubble as I rubbed our cheeks together. There are obviously many places where men and women are built differently, but the feeling of my not quite yet beard against Maribeth's soft cheek was the one we were mutually exploring now. As if to emphasize the point, I felt her face press against the rough texture of mine as if to confirm its masculinity. I heard her emit a low moan of pleasure from this simple act as I experienced just as much pleasure from her own softness.

Maribeth bent her outside leg somewhat which allowed me the opportunity to snuggle more into the opening between her legs. I felt a definite increase in firmness as I wedged myself further in the space she had created, and I suspected that perhaps that had been her motive. I was still basically pinning her to the bed and I was enjoying the feeling of dominance, and for her part I sensed no objections coming from below.

For two people essentially lying motionless on the bed it seemed there was a lot going on; I was conscious of Maribeth's breast filling my hand as I cupped her softness and pinched her nipple, and several times our cheeks rubbed together either by my instigation or by hers, and of course I couldn't help but feel the arousal that continued against Maribeth's butt cheeks. While I was feeling that a lot of communication was passing back and forth, there were hardly any actual words. Once, Maribeth asked about my run, and I asked about the quality of her sleep, but mostly it was soft whispered pleasures of just being together.

I had the normal after run feeling of contentment that I always have, but it was being immeasurably increased.by the sense of togetherness that I was feeling on top of it. While I was very sexually aroused, I was also unwilling to break the spell that cuddling with Maribeth had created, so my mind raced from one tactile feeling to another, the sum of which was overloading my thoughts.

At some point, Maribeth wanted to change our position so that she could express her own feelings. I felt her twist her body so that she was laying more on her back. This freed her arm that had been penned under her body and she used it to pull my lips to hers. It was a tender kiss that was very much in the mood that we had created. My hand was still on her breast, but it didn't feel like I was arousing her passion as much as I was just affirming our togetherness.

As we shared the kiss it dawned on me that I was decidedly uncertain about what I wanted to happen. On the one hand, I was holding this beautiful naked woman and I was certainly aroused enough, and she seemed willing enough, to take our lovemaking to the next level. On the other hand, I was almost too content to change the current situation. My thoughts returned to the comment Maribeth had made on Friday when in answer to my question, "what do you want to see while you're here?" She answered, "I want to see if you can last the week " At the time I thought it was a clever rejoinder, but now I was thinking she might have been onto something. Indeed, I might not last the week.

Maribeth must have been reading my mind, because she seemed to read my mood and asked what I was thinking. "Oh, just thinking about something you said," I responded. When I finally "fessed up" about what that something was, there was laughter all around, followed by Maribeth feigning mock concern that she was pushing me too hard and she'd try to give me more rest periods.

I hadn't planned to "break the mood," but that's what happened. After getting a good laugh from my comment, it turned out that Nature was calling anyway. Maribeth padded toward the toilet and I followed, but headed to the shower. When she finished with necessary business, I became aware of Maribeth stepping in behind me. I was beginning to expect that all of my showers were likely to only be semi-private. Apparently, a lot of residents were doing what we were doing since the water turned cold faster than usual, so it was with great reluctance that we hurried to finish and dispensed with the usual groping and fondling.

Breakfast was a variation on a theme. Fried eggs on toast with coffee and orange juice. The weather was looking great, so I suggested a ride in the country, with the general destination being Gettysburg, the site of the famous Civil War battle that is considered the turning point of that terrible conflict. As always, Maribeth was on for whatever I chose to suggest, so we put on some warm clothes and soon "Charlie" was heading north on US 29. Thankfully, the heater was actually working, and I prayed it would continue to do so.

I had visited Gettysburg twice when I was in elementary school, once with my parents and once on a school trip. I remembered quite a bit from those visits, particularly an impressive electronic map of the battle which showed the various troop movements by lighted bulbs on a 18' x 18' terrain map. I hoped it was still there.

As we drove, I recounted my previous visits and Maribeth seemed interested in those, but she also asked a lot of questions about growing up as an "army brat." Of course my Dad was in the Air Force, but it was pretty much the same. I told her that I'd started the first grade (no kindergarten) in Japan and had graduated from high school in France, but had attended twelve schools in between. Maribeth just shook her head at this and asked if it was difficult. I told her that even when I was going to a public school, there were always a bunch of "brats" in attendance, and while the names changed we all had similar experiences, so there was that familiarity.

I did say that one consequence of going to a new school was you always encountered the school bully. I had learned very early, probably around the third grade, not to let him intimidate. Maribeth asked if I meant I always had to fight. I laughed and said that I had rarely had to resort to that, because I discovered that bullies are really cowards. They talk big, but it's just bravado. Once it's clear that someone they're trying to bully is really ready to have it out, they usually find a way to back out. I told her that all I really had to do was give them an "off ramp," so they didn't look silly to their buddies.

Central Maryland is mostly rolling country and as we approached the Pennsylvania line, we could see the Allegheny Mountains appear in the distance. Most of these are long ridges rather than individual peaks, so in that sense they're much different than say the Rocky Mountains out west. Since, until recently, Maribeth had never actually seen mountains of any kind, it was all new and wonderful.

As we passed through several small towns, I pointed out that many of the houses and buildings were probably there a hundred years ago when the Civil War suddenly appeared on their door steps. I had seen black & white pictures of some of these places in the 1860's, and except for the fact that the roads were now paved and automobiles had replaced horses, they looked about the same.

About fifteen miles from Gettysburg we began to see roadside markers that described some incident or event connected to the movement of a unit of the Union Army preceding or during the battle. I assumed there were similar markers for the Confederate Army, but they would be on roads to our west. We were approaching the town from the same direction that the Army of the Potomac had used in 1863, so our markers were exclusively Union.

Like many towns around here, the center of Gettysburg is a square, which in modern times has been modified into a roundabout. We had been driving for about two hours and I was looking for a place to stop. Just north of the square we found the Lincoln Diner next to the Gettysburg train station. Neither of us was particularly hungry, but we decided that some bodily relief would be welcome and we could refill our coffee before taking in the sights.

The Diner had a rack of flyers that described various attractions, so I grabbed a handful of those before we found a booth near the door. Some of the places I had seen and some I hadn't, but three stood out. The map I had remembered was apparently still operating and was located in the park visitor's center. A huge painting of the battle was located in a building called a cyclorama and I knew I had seen that on the school trip. The last was a guided tour of Little Round Top, one of the pivotal events of the battle. We saw there were other things such as a miniature horse farm, an ice cream factory and a tour of the house Dwight Eisenhower had retired to after leaving the presidency, but I doubted we would have any time for those.

The electric map was just as I remembered, and even Maribeth commented how effectively the description of the battle was enhanced by being able to see the movement as depicted by the various lights. The bulbs were similar to Christmas tree lights and I wondered how many needed to be replaced every day. I noticed that I ask a lot of these kinds of metaphorical questions recently.

After a quick break for lunch we found the cyclorama building and paid $2 apeice for admittance. The central exhibit is a huge oil on canvas painting that wraps around the circular building. It depicts the point where "Pickett's Charge" has reached the Union lines. The culmination of the battle was captured on canvas by the French artist Paul Philippoteaux who painted it in 1887, almost 25 years after the battle.

The painting itself was 42' high and 377' wide. You actually walked through an opening and the painting surrounded you on all sides. I understood that it had been recently renovated and it looked a lot better than when I had last seen it. It was impressive and I would have liked a little more time since the narration was excellent in pointing out details that would be easily missed, but the tour of Little Roundtrip was scheduled for 2:30, so we were starting to be limited on time.

There are two hills located at the South end of the battlefield, known as Big and Little Roundtop. The larger was heavily wooded and played no role in the battle, but the smaller had been partially cleared and it overlooked the entire valley that separated the two armies which occupied opposite ridges. Whoever possessed this important high ground would not only have a great observation post, but artillery would control most of the valley. The Union got there first and over two days the Confederates tried to knock them off the hill. At one point on the second day, the Union forces ran out of ammunition and in a historic display of courage conducted a bayonet charge down the hill which saved the day. The park ranger did a great job of explaining the story which was enhanced by the fact that we were standing on the exact spot where it occurred.

We finished the day with a quick drive around the battlefield. In the years after the battle various states and local organizations had erected monuments to honor the units which had fought here, both Union and Confederate. We didn't stop to read the inscriptions, but we counted well over a hundred, along with rows of cannons that were sited where they had actually been. The overall impression was one of awe of the heroism that had been displayed here combined with sadness for the tragedy that required the sacrifices in the first place.

We departed Gettysburg moving south on the Taneytown Road, the same route that General Lee led his defeated army away from the battlefield 102 years earlier. Maribeth had been unusually quiet for most of the day, listening and learning I assumed, but she remained so now. I asked her what she was thinking, and when she turned to answer my question, I could see tears beginning to form in the corner of her eyes.

"I'm thinking about all the wives and girlfriends of those soldiers who left home and either never returned or came back so damaged that they would never be the same again."

I instantly knew that Maribeth was equating what we had just seen to our current situation, so my first response was an apology. "I'm sorry, this was probably a bad idea."

"No, no," Maribeth quickly added, "it's been a wonderful day, I'm so happy that you brought me, it's just so sobering. We go through life thinking our problems are so big, and you come to someplace like this and realize how petty they are."

This short conversation seemed to break the morose mood that I had thought Maribeth had fallen into because she brightened and started asking what I had planned for the rest of our week together. Of course the "rest of our week," consisted of two more days, but the way she said it made it seem like an endless expanse that lay ahead.

I said that I was open to suggestions, but that I'd thought she might like seeing something around the Chesapeake Bay and I was considering a visit to Annapolis, which happened to be the state capitol. In a way I was surprised by the question insofar as I had become accustomed to Maribeth agreeing to whatever I had come up with, but on reflection, I realized how self-centered that sounded. I knew that I was more than willing to consider anything that Maribeth might suggest, but we'd both fallen into the habit, for lack of a better term, that I was in charge of the agenda.

True to character, Maribeth thought that was a great idea. When I think about the Chesapeake Bay, I immediately think about crabs. I had been introduced to crab picking as a child and several guys had gotten together to eat crabs since I'd been at Ft. Meade, so I was sure that I was the more experienced. I could see Maribeth thinking about how to respond, the small wrinkling of her nose being a dead giveaway. "Do you think I would like them?" was her noncommittal rejoinder.

"I do," I replied. "Until you've actually eaten one, everybody is suspicious. There's an old saying that goes, Er was the bravery of the man who first deigned to eat a crab." Maribeth laughed and asked how one actually goes about the process?

I explained that normally a restaurant covers a table with Kraft Paper and dumps the steamed crabs in the middle. Everyone I had ever eaten was seasoned with "Old Bay," a local favorite. I assumed you could eat crabs without seasoning, but I'd never had them that way. There is a technique to getting the meat out of the shell and getting rid of the stuff you shouldn't eat, but it was pointless to try to describe it, I'd have to actually show her. I added that it was my opinion that no matter how many crabs you ate, it still didn't constitute a meal. Tongue in cheek, I said that crabs required more calories to open than you got from the meat. Maribeth thought that was funny and she laughed again when I said, "in any event, it's just another excuse to drink beer."

All this talk of food was reminding us that we were close to running on empty ourselves and I suggested that we be on the lookout for a place to get some dinner. We were heading south on US 15 and a sign indicated that we were approaching the town of Thurmont, so when the road split, I followed the left fork that lead to the center of town. Unlike Gettysburg, there was no town square, but at an intersection where five roads came together we discovered the Good 'n Plenty Restaurant. Good and Plenty sounded good to me and I parked behind the building.

It turned out that Good 'n Plenty was run by an Amish family, and we were met at the door by a young girl in the traditional long grey skirt and white apron. She was standing by a display case that feachered rows of pies, cakes and cookies, each one looking more yummy than the previous one. Maribeth looked at me and I nodded. Dessert was definitely in our future.

Over the last few days we had eaten a lot of simple and easy to make meals, and I for one, was ready for something more substantial. As advertised, there were plenty of choices, and I was in a quandary until one of the waitresses passed our table carrying a platter of the beef stew. That made up my mind. Maribeth asked if I knew what "broasted chicken" was, and I told her it was basically fried chicken that they made in a pressure cooker. I'd had it other places and I said that I thought she'd like it. So those dishes ended up being our order.

On the way to the men's room to take care of business and wash my hands I passed a framed letter on the wall. I stopped and found out it was a thank you note from President Eisenhower for the great meal he and some of his staff had there. I remembered that Camp David, the Presidential retreat, was somewhere in the general area and surmised that he had eaten her during one of his visits. It was dated 1958, so I knew he was still President at the time.

When I met Maribeth back at the table, I mentioned the note and the waitress confirmed that Camp David was less than three miles away, just up the road in the mountains. Of course Maribeth had heard of Camp David, but like most people, had no idea where it was actually located, so this chance encounter ended up as a memorable moment.

When the meal arrived, it was obvious that the "Plenty" in the restaurant's name was accurate. When the platter of steaming beef stew was placed in front of me, I could see Maribeth's envious glance, which was returned by me when her broasted chicken appeared. We each offered the other a taste, which ultimately resulted in us sharing both orders. As we ate, I asked Maribeth if beef and fish was known as "surf and turf," would our sharing of beef and chicken be "peep and moo?" The obligatory groan quickly followed. I opted for peach pie for dessert and Maribeth did the same. Oh my. The Amish sure know how to bake.

We both ate too much and we pretty much staggered to the car. I assumed that it was unlikely that we'd ever eat here again, but I made a mental note to recommend the place if the occasion ever presented itself. While we were eating, darkness had truly fallen and most of the lovely countryside disappeared for the next hour before we arrived back at the BOQ. While Maribeth went into the bedroom to change, I called Joe Grim. We had said that we might want to get together one more time before the girls left, so I wanted to share my plan for tomorrow and see if they wanted to join or perhaps meet later.