The Combat Zone Hookup, I

The desert...

One of many pictures taken during my time spent in Iraq.

Of the many things connecting me to Missouri, there are mainly two that stick out in my memory. The first being all of the ink I got done while I was there (kinda hard to forget), and the second being the little lady that is the subject of this post’s title.

Now, you might not believe it, but getting laid while in a combat zone can be a little difficult (especially since Vietnam wasn’t my war), and being a Marine didn’t help. In my time, the total force was 6% female, and many went for admin jobs, so there wasn’t an even distribution. My MOS, in specific, was only about 4% female, and it just so happened that every unit I ended up in seemed to stand on the shallowest end of the “drowning in pussy” pool.

Not once, in my whole 5+ years, did I end up in a platoon with a female in it. Hell, in Iraq, my company of 200+ Marines only had five females in it. Two were too high ranking (more on that some other time), one was an obvious dyke, and of the last two, one got herself pregnant early in the deployment, and the other was seriously injured by enemy action. Both were sent home.

Sometime around the tail end of my deployment, though, my fortune changed. Circumstances made it so that when I wasn’t off on a convoy with my platoon, I was stuck with a supply guy (we’ll call him…”LCpl Kelley”). My job was to drive him back and forth between the base’s flightline and his supply unit’s building, transporting stuff that’d arrived back to them (I’d been a baaad Jackie Boy, and working with no days off was my punishment). For whatever reason, his unit had civilian contractors working with them, and Kelley, like many Marines, really didn’t care for civilians. The fact that he was forced to work with them seemed to make him dislike them even more. “Fucking civilians are disgusting. Bunch of undisciplined pieces of shit…” He was hilarious!

This turned out to be opportune for me, however, because when time came for one of these contractors to be replaced, they flew in a girl from Missouri that even someone without desert goggles would think was cute. “So…who’s that?”, I asked Kelley. “Oh, her? Just another stupid civilian they flew in. Now all of these dumbasses are drooling all over her, being all gay and shit, trynna flirt. What, you like her too?” He sounded frustrated, as if he hoped that I wouldn’t also turn into a mindless drone around her. “Don’t know. She’s cute though.” Kelley agreed with at least that much.

Over the next week, I stopped to chat with her anytime that I got a chance (we’ll call her “Alexa”), despite having some Corporal from Kelley’s unit trying to cock-block me the entire time. Fucking pogue! One day though, upon returning from a two day convoy, the truck whose gun turret I was manning had some stuff that needed to be delivered to Kelley’s unit. So there I was, rolling in on top of this huge, armored truck, .50 caliber machine gun in front of me, decked out like I’d just come off the set of a Mad Max film (goggles, scarf, torn up gloves), and with a bit of stubble growing on my face. Kelley comes to unstrap the load, and as he’s doing so he sucks his teeth and goes, “What’s-her-face was asking about you…” Sweet. So, I stroll over and tell Alexa “Hi”. “Where have you been?”, she asks, looking at me like I’d just climbed out of Doc Brown’s time machine. “Eh. Y’know. On the road…” I had to get going though, so I cut to it and asked her for her email (we didn’t have phones out there). She gives it to me, I tell her I’ll hit her up later, casually stroll back to my truck, climb to the top and jump into the gun turret like I’m too cool for doors, and then we roll off.

By Zeus, I’d be surprised if she wasn’t a little wet after that. I couldn’t have done it better if I’d actually known what I was doing…

The unit replacing mine had arrived by this point, and since only a few of us were needed to train them, most of the rest of us, including myself, had ample time off. Additionally, while it was required that we took a “buddy” with us everywhere we went, my special punishment made it so I was often away from my platoon, so I was exempt from this. This should have ended as soon as I was taken off of that duty, but I was able to slip through the cracks and continued carrying on by my self…which worked wonderfully.

I used my free time wisely and began emailing Alexa. After a little back and forth and learning a little more about each other, we began meeting up near the computer center in the evenings. On the first night, I got in my first kiss just before she had to take the base shuttle back to the civilian living area. By the second, we found a dark corner and went into full-on make out mode. We were so worked up that we jumped right into finger banging and hand-jobbing, but decided to stop there. She was way ahead of me though, and had already made plans; “I have a one-person trailer that we can use now. Meet me there tomorrow, at 2 o’clock. The number is [].”

“Wait, so is that 2 o’clock as in zero-two, or 1400?”, I asked, trying to be sure of the time. “No, 2 o’clock!”, she barked. Apparently, she really hated military time, but that wasn’t helping me any. “Ok. So is that 2am, or 2pm?”

“2pm, duh! Be there on time, and don’t wear your uniform…”

Wait, what?!… And with that, I was left to walk back to my unit’s big tent in the dark of the night, wondering how the hell I was going to manage passing off as a civilian, but more importantly, where the hell I was going to leave my rifle for the duration of our tryst. I had a lot of planning ahead of me, my only comfort the authentic smell of vagina left on my fingers…

And that, my friends, is where I’m leaving this for now. Stay tuned for part II (now live)! You’ve never seen me as cunning.

– Jack The Road Warrior


Brevity and Civility

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