by Len Levinson
~*~
Just as Nurse Jackson said, Mahoney was able to get up and walk around in four days. Dressed in a gray and white striped robe with U.S. ARMY stenciled on the breast pocket and wearing a bandage like a turban around his head, he strolled down to the solarium at the end of the hall, that being the only place in the ward where patients could smoke.
He entered the solarium and saw GIs sitting on wheelchairs or regular chairs, smoking cigarettes and shooting the shit. Some were bandaged nearly from head to toe, and others appeared ready to be returned to the front. The solarium had huge windows; it was a gloomy rainy day outside. In the distance the sound of artillery fire could be heard.
Mahoney spotted an empty chair near some Red Cross ladies who were passing out cookies to the GIs.
“Would you like a cookie, soldier?” one of the Red Cross ladies said to Mahoney.
“Yes ma’am—I sure would.”
She held out the tray, and Mahoney took two chocolate chip cookies.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“You’re welcome, soldier.”
Mahoney didn’t know whether to eat a cookie or smoke a cigarette first. He decided to eat a cookie, listening to the conversation next to him.
“It’s awfully nice of you ladies,” said the GI beside Mahoney, “to come and visit us soldiers like this.”
Mahoney thought the voice sounded familiar and looked toward the soldier, but Red Cross ladies were standing in the way.
“Well,” replied one of the Red Cross ladies, “it’s an honor for us to come and visit you brave boys.”
“We only did our duty,” the GI said sanctimoniously.
“Every one of you is a hero to us and the folks at home.”
“Maybe so, but we only follow our orders as best we can.”
“God bless you, soldier.”
“God bless you, ma’am.”
The Red Cross ladies moved out of the way, and Mahoney found himself staring at Private Olds, whose chest was wrapped in bandages and whose arm was in a sling. He also had a bandage wrapped around his head.
“Why you son of a bitch!” Mahoney said when the Red Cross ladies were out of hearing distance.
Private Olds turned to Mahoney and his eyes nearly popped out. “You!”
“What in the fuck are you doing here!” Mahoney said.
Olds grinned and pointed to the bandages on his chest. “I’ve got a million dollar wound right here, Sarge. I’m going back to the States.”
“You fucking cocksucker,” Mahoney said.
“What’s the matter with you, Sarge? Jealous?”
Mahoney grunted and lit his cigarette. It didn’t seem right to him that a coward like Olds should be sent back to the States while other soldiers had to fight at the front.
“I thought you were dead,” Mahoney said.
“Looks like you were wrong.” Olds leaned toward Mahoney, covered his mouth with his hand, and said, “When you get out of the Army, look me up. I’ll give you a job sweeping floors at the store.”
Mahoney stirred in his chair. “I’m going to kill you, you cocksucker.”
“Whoa Sarge—don’t do anything you might be sorry for!”
Mahoney relaxed and dropped back into his chair. If he strangled Olds they’d send him to the stockade and maybe shoot him.
“I should have put a bullet in your head while I had the chance,” Mahoney said.
Olds laughed. “It’s too late for that now, Sarge. I’m on my way back to L.A. I’m gonna get a purple heart and all the girls’ll try to put their hands in my pants.”
“You ain’t got nothing in there for them to grab—you goddamn fairy!”
“Calm down, Sarge. You’re liable to bust a gut.”
Mahoney wanted to tell everybody in the solarium that Olds was a coward and a creep, but couldn’t bring himself to denounce Olds publicly. Olds would deny everything and Mahoney would look like a fool.
“Fuck you,” Mahoney said, getting out of his chair.
He walked across the solarium, sat in another vacant chair, and puffed his cigarette glumly. Life always was so unfair. When other soldiers were wounded, they were patched up and returned to the front, but not that weasel Olds. He was going home a hero while better men were going home in pine boxes.
Mahoney had been religious once, but situations like this caused him to lose faith in God. How could there be a God who permitted such blatant injustice? How could a God let a war take place?
Nurse Obojski passed into his line of vision. She walked across the solarium to a soldier in front of Mahoney, bent over, and stuck a thermometer in his mouth. Then she felt the soldier’s pulse and looked at her watch.
Mahoney gazed at her through hooded eyes. She had short curly blond hair and was on the pudgy side, with a big wide round ass. Her face was jolly and she was friendly to all the GIs. Mahoney undressed her mentally and decided that she wasn’t bad at all. He began to get a hard-on as he thought of crawling over her soft warm body and screwing away.
Nurse Obojski finished with the soldier and turned to walk out of the solarium. Mahoney shot to his feet and intercepted her.
“Nurse Obojski,” he said, “might I speak with you for a moment please?”
She smiled in her friendly way. “Sure.”
“I have something wrong with me, and I wonder if you’d examine me in private someplace.”
“What is it?”
“A terrific pain.”
“Where?”
“I can’t explain it, but I can show you.”
“Perhaps I should get Doctor Sullivan to look at you.”
“I’d rather you did it, Nurse Obojski. I have faith in you.”
She laughed. “Really, Sergeant Mahoney.”
There was a tone of urgency in his voice. “Please, Nurse Obojski.”
“Oh, all right. Come this way, please.”
He followed her down the corridor, watching the two halves of her ass fighting each other underneath her white dress. His dick throbbed passionately because fat women always had turned him on in a strange lascivious way. He wondered if he could be shot for trying to seduce a nurse, but somehow, in his masculine arrogance, he thought he could bring it off.
She opened the door to an examining room and went inside. He followed her in and closed the door behind him, latching it surreptitiously.
“Would you care to lie down on the table, Sergeant Mahoney?” Nurse Obojski said, stepping toward the sink so she could wash her hands.
Mahoney sat on the table, took out his enormous stiff dong, and covered it with his bathrobe. Nurse Obojski washed her hands, dried them, and approached Mahoney.
“Well, what’s wrong?” she asked.
He grabbed her hand, whipped the robe off his erection, and touched her hand to it. “This,” he said.
She said eek and jumped back. Mahoney went after her, his dick waving from side to side like a broom handle. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his lips in her neck.
“Nurse Obojski,” he said breathlessly, “I’ve been in love with you ever since I first laid eyes on you.”
She tried to push him away. “Stop that!”
“I can’t stop,” he said, pulling her tighter against his erection, “I dream about you every night.”
“Sergeant Mahoney—please let me go!”
“Ssshhhh— not so loud.”
“If you don’t let me go—I’ll call the Military Police!”
Mahoney lifted her dress and cupped her ample haunches in his hands. “You wouldn’t do that to me, would you Nurse Obojski?” he asked, licking her ear.
“Stop it!”
“I can’t.”
“Please don’t do this to me, Sergeant Mahoney,” she whimpered.
“But I love you, Nurse Obojski!”
“You don’t love me,” she said, squirming to get away, “all you want is to get laid.”
“So let’s get laid.” He pulled up her dress in front and pushed his erection ag
ainst her white fluffy underpants.
“Oh my God!” she moaned.
“Please Nurse Obojski,” he grunted, bending his knees and hunching his back in an effort to stick it in.
“Stop that!”
“I can’t.”
“I’m going to call the MPs.”
“I don’t care.”
“Please stop.”
“No.”
He pushed her toward the examining table and noticed that she was struggling less.
“You’re taking advantage of me,” she said weakly.
“I’m in love with you,” he whispered, trying to plant his lips on hers.
“This is rape,” she muttered.
“It’s love,” he replied.
“Let me latch the door,” she said.
“I already took care of that.”
“You bastard.”
Gently but firmly, he pushed her onto the examining table, then jumped on top of her, unbuttoning the front of her nurse’s uniform.
“Mahoney,” she sighed, giving up the fight, “this is far beneath the standards we’ve set for hospital procedures.”
“You’re so lovely and pink,” he replied, pulling off her brassiere and stuffing her left nipple into his mouth.
She spread her legs, and he pounced on her right breast, slobbering and kissing it while stroking between her legs. He pulled the elastic leg band away and rammed his dick into the moist fur, groping blindly for the magic spot and charging inside.
She raised her knees and swung her rump from side to side as Mahoney humped her desperately, hoping to get his rocks off before the other nurses figured something strange was going on and decided to break down the door. The examining table bounced around on the floor and threatened to collapse, but Mahoney kept going, smothering her face with kisses and holding onto her ass for dear life.
“Hurry up!” she wheezed.
Mahoney felt the ticklish sweet sensation build up in his groin, and since there was no reason to hold back, he let it blow. The orgasm sent him into wild spasmodic motions, and both of them nearly fell off the examining table.
A few minutes later they lay against each other, breathing heavily.
“I didn’t realize,” she said, “that you’d made such a rapid recovery from your wounds. I think it’s time you were discharged from this hospital, because no nurse is safe as long as you’re walking around here, Mahoney.”
“Let’s spend a night together,” he whispered into her ear.
“I couldn’t do that,” she said.
“Why not?”
“Because you’re an enlisted man.”
“Nobody would have to know.”
She scratched her cheek. “I’ll think about it,” she said. “Meanwhile, get off me and let me get dressed—somebody might want to use this room for a medical purpose.”
“Yes ma’am,” replied Mahoney, sliding it out.
He dismounted, pulled up his pajama bottoms, and tied the string. The joy juice ran down his leg and stained the pajamas, but he covered up with his robe.
She rearranged herself and buttoned her dress, smoothing out the wrinkles. Then she went to the mirror and pushed her curls back into place.
“You go first,” she said.
Mahoney opened the door and stepped into the corridor. Nurses and patients walked back and forth. Mahoney headed for the latrine, a happy smile on his face.
Chapter Eighteen
Colonel Oscar Koch, the G-2 (Intelligence) officer for the Third Army, entered General Patton’s office and saluted.
“Have a seat,” Patton said.
Koch sat on a chair in front of the desk.
Patton leaned forward. “Do you remember a few weeks ago I asked you to compile a list of personnel in this Army who could be sent out on special missions?”
“Yes sir. And I’ve compiled it. I have about forty men and officers on the list.”
“Good.” Patton leaned back in his chair and folded his hands on his stomach. “I’ve been concerned lately about our left flank. You know, the First Army is spread out awfully thin over a great deal of real estate, and if I was von Rundstedt, I’d attack through those mountain passes like greased shit, wouldn’t you?”
“I imagine it’s a great temptation for him, sir.”
Patton nodded solemnly. “If there is an attack through there, this Army’s left flank will be placed in jeopardy. Therefore I want you to send some of those special men into the First Army sector on a reconnaissance mission to see how bad the situation really is. I’m especially concerned about the Ardennes region because Troy Middleton’s got practically nothing there, from what I’ve heard. How soon do you think you can get these reconnaissance people out into the field?”
“I imagine no more than a day or two, sir.”
“Good,” said Patton. “Get to work on it.”
~*~
The first snow of winter was falling, and it reminded Mahoney of Christmas in New York. He was sitting in a jeep approaching a tiny village in the Saar Valley, and he wondered if Santa Claus would bring him anything nice, like the million dollar wound that would send him back to the States and the warm arms of beautiful women.
Pfc. Higgins drove the jeep, bringing Mahoney up to date on latest events in the platoon. Riggs had returned from the hospital and Private Baker had been killed in Saarlautern. Sergeant Leary had stepped on a mine and Corporal Cranepool had been made an acting sergeant and given command of the platoon. The company had a new executive officer named Hargreaves, who was a son of a bitch, and a few new replacements had arrived.
The jeep drove into the village and Mahoney looked at the bombed out buildings, glad he’d missed the battle that had been fought here recently. Higgins turned a corner, skidded halfway down a street, and stopped in front of a house that flew the company flag.
Mahoney got out of the jeep and trudged through the snow to the front door of the house. He opened it up and stepped into a warm room that had a pot-bellied stove in a corner. Sergeant Tweed sat behind one of the desks, and Pfc. Drago banged a typewriter behind the other one putting together the KP roster.
Tweed looked at Mahoney and frowned. “Look what the wind just blew in,” he grumbled.
“Hiya Tweed,” Mahoney said, feeling as if he’d returned home, because in a way Charlie Company was his home. He looked around the clean office. “Nice joint you’ve got here.”
“How’re you feeling, Mahoney?”
“Like new.”
“I hope you didn’t lose any of your marbles when you got hit in the head.”
“I get headaches once in a while but that’s all.” Mahoney unbuttoned his field jacket and took a sheet of paper out of his shirt pocket. “Here’s my orders.” He dropped them on Tweed’s desk.
“You was supposed to be back yesterday,” Tweed said.
“I got tied up.”
“Doing what?”
“None of your fucking business.”
Tweed harumphed. “That’s a helluva thing to say to me. I had to cover for you.”
“What for?”
“Because new orders came down for you.”
Mahoney was surprised. “New orders?”
“Yeah. You’re being sent on TDY (temporary duty) to Third Army.”
“What the fuck for?” Mahoney asked.
“Top-secret.”
“Top-secret?” Mahoney wrinkled his nose. “Are you shitting me?”
“Would I shit you, Mahoney?” Tweed asked, an innocent look on his face.
“I think you would.”
“You’re right, but I’m not shitting you now.”
“What am I gonna do at Third Army?” Mahoney asked.
“I told you it was top-secret.”
“But you know everything, Tweed. What’s the story?”
Tweed motioned with his finger and Mahoney bent over the desk.
“They’re sending you out on a recon in the First Army zone,” Tweed said. “I don’t know exactly what
it’s all about, but you’ll be spending most of your time with the Eighth Corps in the vicinity of a quiet little town in Belgium called Bastogne.”
“Bastogne?” Mahoney asked. “Never heard of it.”
“Neither have I, but it sounds like good duty. There ain’t no fighting at all going on there.”
Mahoney straightened up and smiled. “I wonder if they’ve got a whorehouse in Bastogne?”
“If there is, I’m sure you’ll find it, Mahoney.” Tweed reached for the telephone. “I’ll call for a jeep to take you to Third Army.”
Mahoney took out a cigarette and lit it up, thinking that his luck was changing for the better. He walked to the window and looked outside at the snow falling on the countryside.
TDY to Bastogne, he thought. Well, it’s about time the bastards gave me a little vacation.
THE SERGEANT SERIES
DEATH TRAIN
HELL HARBOR
BLOODY BUSH
THE LIBERATION OF PARIS
DOOM RIVER
SLAUGHTER CITY
You’ve reached the last page.
But the adventure doesn’t end here …
Join us for more first-class, action-packed books.
Regular updates feature on our website and blog
The Adventures continue…
Issuing new and classic fiction from Yesterday and Today!
More on Len Levinson
