LITMIR.BIZ

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I guess so. Hey, Doc, how long do I have to stay in this cage? I am feeling a little confined, and would love to get out of here and get plastered at the ‘O club.’, I have some old buddies to look up,” Jeremy blurted out.

      “Oh my, you must be feeling better, but I can’t honestly release you for at least two more weeks.”

      “You got to be kidding; I will go crazy in this place,” shouted Jeremy!

      “I am honestly disappointed, captain. You survived over three months under the worst possible conditions and can’t last a few comfortable weeks in my care,” CPT De Faut chided him.

      Jeremy was slightly embarrassed, and sheepishly looked away; trying to recover his composure.

      “Uh, excuse me, doctor. I am sorry, this has nothing to do with you. I am restless and need to get out among people,” Jeremy answered

      “Okay, okay, I’ll compromise; I’ll see if I can get you a three-day pass next week,” CPT De Faut promised with a smile.

      Loretta was amazed at her strong feelings for Jeremy, but he never seemed to care or pick up on the strong animal magnetism she was transmitting. Loretta came from Baton Rouge, Louisiana, and still had a rather cute Cajun accent. Her physical attributes were stunning, to say the least. God and “Mother Nature” had blessed her with a rather voluptuous figure. At five-feet-eight and one hundred and forty pounds, she wasn’t one of those skinny looking model types. She was extremely proud of the fact that she strongly resembled the sexy 40s-50s screen siren Jane Russell, Howard Hughes’s ex-femme fatale. To the dismay of her colleagues and superiors she knowingly wore rather provocative hospital gowns and revealing uniforms. Loretta firmly believed that “a little bit of femininity was the only thing those poor wounded returning veterans needed. “I am determined to do my patriotic duty,” she would teasingly whisper to her shocked fellow doctors. She had won the “Miss Baton Rouge” and “Miss Louisiana” contests, and was bound and determined to proudly display her ribbons, trophies and many attributes. It was easy to see why she was the most popular doctor in the hospital.

      She realized that her interest in the young Special Forces captain was not just professional courtesy and patriotic duty. Jeremy reminded her of a long-lost boyfriend she once had. He had also been a quiet, sulking and solitude seeking individual. Major Beauregard “Beau” Armstrong Lee, had been a hot-shot Air Force pilot with 89 missions under his belt. At twenty-eight years old, he had been one of the youngest fighter aces in Vietnam. Unfortunately, his luck ran out, and he was shot down over North Vietnam and never heard from again. Like so many other M.I.A. (Missing in Action) families, Lorretta had hoped that someday, her “Beau” would be found safe in some POW camp, but as the months turned into years, she slowly accepted the fact that he would never be coming home.

      Her professional training told her that this young soldier needed more than just medical care. She sensed an air of desperation and loneliness in this quiet and withdrawn human being. Although she tried every trick in the book, CPT Jeremy Grant totally ignored her advances. She realized that he was suffering from a variety of both mental and physical stresses, but he refused to cooperate with her demands to see one of the psychiatric counselors.

      Well, she thought, If he’s too stupid to get the hint, maybe I’ll make him walk and exercise himself back to reality.

      She informed him that he needed physical therapy, and recommended long walks and exercise. The abundant pathways that surrounded Letterman Hospital were ideally suited for someone seeking solitude and exercise. Jeremy spent many lonely hours hiking among the pines and oaks that abound in the Presidio. His daily exercise routine became an important part of his rehabilitation. Jeremy was convinced that he could only regain his health and mental stability, if he adhered to a stringent exercise program. He awoke every morning at 05:00 hours to the sorrowful sounds of the foghorns. The foghorns were very audible in the inner bay area, and each had a distinct, yet comforting sound to them, their mournful wails echoing like ancient creatures calling for help. Jeremy would often fantasize of a long ago past when prehistoric dinosaurs roamed this angelic location; bellowing love messages across the bay. The foghorns were simultaneously melodious, hypnotic, alluring and also annoying.

      Grant walked and exercised along the many paths for two hours, before returning to his quarters. His route would take him down from the hospital, along the seashore by Crissy Field, and up to the Golden Gate exit and back. Grant had come to like the solitude and regularly visited the military cemetery. He was fascinated by the tombstones and almost came to wish he could also be buried among the trees overlooking this magnificent bay. If one had to die, this had to be the spot that funeral directors dreamed of. Jeremy was envious of the soldiers who were stationed here on a permanent basis. What a cushy duty, he thought to himself.

      He made it a point to try and find new and interesting trails. Jeremy was particularly fond of the solitude, stillness and awesome beauty. Grant was always amazed by the diverse and changing weather patterns in San Francisco. The city had air quality that no other city of the world could match. The fog would suddenly and silently roll in from the west side of the Golden Gate Bridge and smother everyone into its fold. Just as suddenly the fog would blow away, and the entire bay would be covered with a brilliant sunshine. This almost daily routine was part of the San Francisco charm that he had grown to love. He was not always fond of its citizens, but the city’s charm could overpower just about any negative feelings he encountered. It was this strange and ever-changing environment that attracted so many tourists to this city by the Bay. However, many of the unsuspecting tourists were often caught unprepared by the city’s fickle weather patterns.

      Jeremy had been following this strict and regimented program for over ten days when he received a request from CPT De Faut to come in for a check up. CPT Grant showed up punctually and knocked on her office door.

      “Come in,” she said.

      “Good morning, CPT Grant. Well, captain, how do you feel?” questioned CPT De Faut.

      “Well Doc, I feel pretty good, as a matter of fact, I am ready to leave this ‘puzzle palace’ and get back to real soldiering,” CPT Grant answered, his voice rising in excitement.

      “Well, CPT Grant. I am thoroughly disappointed that you can’t wait to get out of here, and abandon me to these damn Yankees! CPT De Faut, shot back, her eyes wide in mock horror. But as you know, your system suffered an immense shock, and I am afraid your days of soldiering are probably over,” CPT De Faut stated.

      “What do you mean, over? Like discharge, maybe?” CPT Grant inquired.

      “I am afraid so, captain, your shoulder will probably never get better again, and you would greatly benefit from a long home R&R (Rest and Recuperation) leave. You currently have over a dozen rare and potentially dangerous intestinal parasites, malaria, scurvy, etc. Not to mention your shoulder, and foot damage. I am going to recommend you for an immediate Physical Evaluation Board (PEB) hearing, and if they concur, a Medical Evaluation Board (MEB) hearing with a medical discharge,” stated CPT De Faut with emphasis.

      Jeremy looked at her in silence, too stunned to reply.

      “You may think that you are healthy, but you have a long way to go. Additionally, you need to be among people and restore human contact with our society, but most important of all, you need to get laid,” Loretta said with a sexy smile.

      Grant’s initial reaction was one of shock and amazement. Never in his wildest dreams had he contemplated leaving the Army. He was shocked and disappointed. He was so stunned in fact that he didn’t even hear her “laid” remark. He developed a temporary, but intense dislike for Loretta, and blamed her for his current woes. He was somewhat amazed at her direct line of questioning.

      Loretta purposely stared at him, trying to assess his reaction to this new development. Jeremy stared back, and carefully analyzed the situation and after a few minutes of clear thinking he came to the conclusion that he could not possibly blame CPT De Faut for his bad luck. Shit happens, he thought.

      “You also need to be among people and get laid,” CPT De Faut repeated, her eyes boldly staring at him with anticipation,

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