Screech, chirp, touchdown, bounce, touchdown again.
Cheated death once again. But I still hated flying.
As soon as I got inside the terminal, I saw her. Petite, about 5'3", maybe 5'4". Glasses over big, emerald green eyes. And golden blonde hair that looked like Rumplestiltskin spun straw into gold and then turned it into her long hair. I don't know that I have ever seen such beautiful hair in person. I wanted to touch it, but thought that might be seen as creepy.
But she was headed in the same direction I was. As my carry on bag I had an army rucksack without the metal frame. She had a designer handbag and didn't look like a soldier. But we both seemed to be headed to the far end of the terminal, towards the Fort Lewis arrivals. She hadn't been on my flight, right? I usually spot that shit a mile away...
She smiled at me. I smiled back. She may have been 18. Hopefully. She was probably someone's daughter from a divorce, coming to visit her father on post. No ring, so she wasn't a wife. I could tell that. I was still drawn to her hair- and those eyes, but in those beautiful eyes there was a sadness.
We both went to baggage claim and both got Army issue duffle bags. Maybe she was a cadet! Hopefully I would be spending the next 6 weeks seeing her.
"Going to Advance Camp, too I see. My name is Tina. Tina Haskell. From Montana," she said, and held out her hand.
Oh, I wanted to kiss her hand and with my best James Bond impersonation say something clever. Then find a broom closet and get to know her better. So what did I do? My voice cracked like I was still going through puberty and said, "Brent Cramer. Iowa State. Nice to meet you."
We kept heading the same way, got our general assignment as to which bus to ride and which building to report to when we got on post. We sat next to each other on the bus and talked. I had never been to Montana but blurted, "I think we flew over Montana on the way here, though."
Smooth, man. Real smooth.
She had never been to Iowa. "Do you grow potatoes or buckeyes?" she asked.
"That's Idaho and Ohio. We grow corn and are known as the Cyclone State," I answered. But then I realized she was pulling my leg and I fell for it.
Upon arrival at Processing we would find out our individual unit. We were both Brave Rifles, 3rd Regiment, because of the day we arrived, but there were 2 companies of 4 platoons each, and each platoon had 4 squads of 10 cadets. 32 possible squads to be assigned to. And as luck would have it, we both got Alpha Company, 1st Platoon, 4th Squad! From there, we got to pick our battle buddies, and we chose each other.
Last summer I spent 16 weeks going through Army Infantry Basic Training in a similar set up- 10 man squads, 40 man platoons. All men, no women, no drama. If someone got porn mailed to them, we all shared. The fat, ugly women in the Dining Facility all started to look fuckable at the same time. We suffered equally and at about the same pace. I wasn't sure how it would go with women mixed in though. This summer in the same infantry style set up, but with 5 of the 40 cadets being women, it would surely bring more drama.
I treated Tina just like a guy. As much as I would have liked to, we just weren't going to have sex, so why ruin a friendship with drama? I had lost what I thought was my one true love several months back when the Air Force and Army became incompatible. Tina would be like my roommate and friend Wendy, who would also be at camp in about a week. And I would treat Tina as such.
As we did our training we shared our downtime- evenings when Mail Call brought us mail, at weapons cleaning when we had time to chat, or MRE lunches in the field at training where soldiers traded food, and we started to bond. We shared more and more with each other every day.
I had several women who would write me and send me a letter spritzed with perfume, or send pictures or something. Guy friends wrote too. Mail Call is so important to your mental health in a situation like this and you always shared those pieces of home with your friends. It is an important aspect of military life.
"You seem to have a lot of 'lady friends'. I bet you are just the regular Casanova of Iowa State, aren't you?" she teased.
"No," I answered sadly. "I have friends that are 'girls', but no girlfriend. Had a serious long term one but she chose the Air Force over me."
She rubbed my arm, "Don't worry about it. You will find that right woman. You would make a great catch."
"What about you, Tina? You don't strike me as someone who has to beg men to look at her. When we landed at the SEA-TAC airport, I saw you. And so did every other guy. You are stunning and a real head-Turner. Plus you are such a great person to know, why aren't you beating them off with a stick?"
"Long story," she said. "Maybe some other time."
I could tell I touched a raw nerve, and I felt bad. I hoped it didn't ruin our friendship.
About 4 days later, we were on a 3 day- 2 night training exercise. Battle buddies had to dig a 2 man fighting position, and return to it between missions. She opened up to me, "I had a serious boyfriend. He proposed to me, and I accepted his ring. We signed a lease on an apartment. Then he told his mommy and daddy we were engaged, and his daddy said, 'No way will you be a military camp follower. You will return home, run the family business and marry someone WE deem to be more suitable.' So he left me." Then she added, "But he said I could keep the ring. I sold it and bought a Henry 30-30 rifle before he could change his mind again."
That story knocked the wind out of me. I could sort of relate, but not entirely. I pulled her head to my lips and kissed the top of her head. Her dirty, sweaty, not shampood in days hair. But that lovely hair! She responded with a small "Mmmm."
Later that day we encountered an enemy I thought I would never see again outside of Fort Benning, Georgia- fire ants! I swear the Department of the Army transplants fucking fire ants to every army base. And we found them. Tina got into them real bad. Or maybe, they got into her.
My rucksack had everything I might need and some stuff I probably wouldn't. I had a first aid kit with lots of junk in it, including calamine lotion. I learned the hard way last summer at Benning that calamine lotion works on fire ants.
"Cramer, you gotta help me," she begged.
"No problem. Where do you need help?" I asked.
"Follow me." I followed her and she took her BDU top off and was topless, with her beautiful, magnificent breasts there for me to admire. "They got inside my bra band and I need covered front and back. And here," she dropped her pants and pulled the bottoms down over her butt- her Grade A Turdcutter of a butt. "Will you look and make sure I covered everything? Please?"
I rubbed her back with lotion and I looked over her posterior. "Okay, I am being very clinical here, but I either need to physically spread your cheeks apart, or you need to."
She did, much wider than I would have, and she gave me beautiful look at her little brown star. Oh, I wanted to poke it!
"Okay, sorry about that. But I think you covered it all," I said.
She put a fresh t-shirt on and then a fresh BDU top. Then she turned to me, looked at me with a sincere look of gratitude, and took my hand, "THANK YOU! I know that's not the way you had hoped to see me naked, but I REALLY do appreciate it."
I was speechless. Again.
I helped her with her back two more times and when we got back to the barracks I gave her the calamine lotion. The next time we were in the field about 2 days later, I asked how she was doing.
