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The Diver This story was based on an idea by Debbie Cybill and written over a few weeks from September to November 2000. This story covers transgender issues and should not be read by minors. If there any comments or errors spotted in the story then please feel free to email me at [email protected]. Nothing in this story should be construed to be factual and all characters are fictional and not based on any person dead or alive. Copyright 2000 by Elaine. Synopsis A mine explodes and changes the life of a young Marine forever. This is the story of that change and it's not as you might think. It contains a great deal of factual information on the Small Boat Service, a highly efficient part of the British Armed Forces. Chapter 1 - Explosion It was a dark moonless night as the 6 sections, each of eight men, transferred quietly and efficiently from the amphibian support craft HMS Bullfinch to the deck of HMS Sabre, a high-speed patrol boat. Nearly 50 men of the Special Boat Service were starting a dangerous mission to get behind the Iraqi positions in Kuwait before the start of Operation Desert Storm. First they had to clear the mine infested waters that surrounded the Kuwait coastline and for that they would transfer again to 6 small Zodiacs. The captain of Sabre expertly brought them as close as he dared for the final approach to the hostile coastline. In command was a tough Marine called Sergeant Brighton from Yorkshire, who fired out his orders quietly and efficiently in the dim light. Immediately on his signal five divers from each Zodiac quietly submerged, leaving three in each inflatable as boat-handler, stand-by diver and dive-master. As expected the descending divers found the sandy bottom at 25 metres with each group of five men taking up a vee formation. With one brave, or possibly foolish man at the point, they all began to swim slowly towards the shore in the inky black waters. Above them the men in the Zodiacs paddled along following the line of bubbles as they came to the surface. Luckily the bottom was relatively flat as they slowly inched along in the rich salty waters. Suddenly a great explosion sent up a fountain of water off the starboard bow of the port Zodiac. The boat-minder, Joe Spencer, immediately started the engine and then circled slowly around the still foaming water. A body floated to the surface face down, still covered in its black diving suit. The dive-master, Ed Stewart signalled Spencer to turn the boat to port while, without being asked, the stand-by diver, Bill Truro, dropped overboard and swam as fast as he could for the bleeding body. Between them the three men, pulled the lifeless diver back on board the Zodiac. As Spencer slowly turned the Zodiac to get back in formation, three more divers surfaced near to the position of the explosion. "Derek's still fucking alive," cried Stewart to Spencer as he searched for vital signs of life and hovered over the prone body. "He's been damned unlucky," responded Spencer, who could see the blood oozing out of the man's suit near his waist. "He's caught some shrapnel in his stomach and this doesn't look good." The three other divers climbed into the Zodiac with minimal assistance. Spencer circled for five minutes more, searching in vain for the fifth member of the diving team, assisted by the Iraqi searchlights looking for the cause of the explosion. There was some sporadic firing up the coast and the yellow tracer could be seen hitting the water a few hundred yards away. "There's no fucking sign of him," said a desperate Spencer, becoming sadly aware that the man on point had caught the full force of the mine and there was nothing left to pick up. "We'd better head back for the Sabre before the Corp here dies on us." No longer worried about any secrecy, because the explosion had put paid to that, the Zodiac set off at 40 knots towards the approaching Sabre. Stewart picked up the radio and hailed the Sabre, "Sabre this Z1, we need an immediate air evacuation back to Invincible. Corporal Carruthers is very badly hurt." "The chopper's on its way," said the radio operator on Sabre. "Don't try to transfer him to us, the chopper will pick him up straight from the Zodiac." Carruthers drifted in and out of consciousness, clutching the wound that seemed to be draining his life force away. He was in pain and drifted out of consciousness as the helicopter winched him up into the air. He didn't remember much as they gently carried him across the flight deck of Invincible towards the waiting surgeon who would save his life. He didn't hear the Harrier jump jets refuelling and taking off on raids on Southern Iraq. Chapter 2 - A brave young man Growing up in a leafy Manchester suburb, Derek Carruthers had always been academically bright at school. He was studious because being small and frail, he had always been hopeless at games such as rugby and soccer. In consequence he was always being ridiculed and tormented as the bigger boys tried to show that he was a bit of a wimp. He was always a bit of a rebel, preferring to have long hair and in hindsight that probably made the taunting worse. It didn't take him long to realise that their taunts were having a negative effect on his confidence and he really needed to show that he did possess some skills that they didn't have. While he might not have been good enough on the rough and tumble of the sports field, his love of swimming did enable him to shine. Over his final years at school he won many swimming and diving board medals in inter-school championships. It might sound corny, but he was nicknamed The Fish by some of his classmates. When his dad paid for some scuba diving lessons Derek realised that he wanted to make a career out of his love of the water. His goal was to get a job in the North Sea as a diver, earning thousands of pounds a week. That was the main reason why Derek had enlisted with the Royal Marines. Maybe it was because he had to prove his manhood in one of the toughest regiments in the World, if not to those bullies at school, but to himself. Hopefully after a few years in the Marines he'd have the skills and training he needed that would enable him to get a job earning big money in oil exploration. "But Dad, they'll train me in diving and swimming," he told his surprised father on why he'd signed for the Marines, instead of going to work in the local council offices over the summer as they'd agreed. "Derek, you're university material, you can achieve good money in industry," he replied exasperated as he failed to convince him. Derek knew his father was wasting his breath, because like his mum, once his mind was made up that was it, and his father just caved in. While most of the other guys in senior school paired off with the girls, he'd never had a regular girlfriend. He'd always felt shy and clumsy around them and the girls that seemed to take an interest in him never received any encouragement. For some reason Derek genuinely seemed to prefer the company of other young men or at least those like him that seemed to thrive on adversity. However he never considered himself to be gay and those boys that had made advances were instantly repulsed too. Just three months after passing all eight of his O level school examinations, Derek was sitting in a Royal Marines bus heading for his basic training at Lypstone Barracks, wondering whether he was going to fail or endure to prove his manhood. To his surprise he soon found himself adapting to the raw life of a recruit. Instead of confronting problems head on, Derek used his head to tackle them with a bit of thought. Unlike the past the drill staff were always on the look out for recruits who could show some initiative, rather than just brute strength and ignorance. He suddenly found out that being small and light was an unexpected advantage in unarmed combat and he was able to throw guys twice his weight with ease, once he learned the essentials. When Derek learned that he could do that, his confidence soared and increased daily. Within weeks he feared none of the other recruits and it didn't take him long to naturally take charge on training assignments. Derek would end up telling all the bigger guys how to overcome obstacles and hazards. The drill staff noticed it first of course and he was able to finish basic training with top marks, much to his dad's surprise. His final interview with Captain Morrison of the Marines training programme gave him further cause for optimism. "When I first saw you Carruthers, I thought you'd be lucky to survive a few days and you'd be going home to your Mummy's apron strings," he said almost sarcastically as Derek stood at ease. "However I'm pleased to say that you've proved me wrong and all my Drill Sergeants too." "Thank you sir," Derek said smiling as he was handed his certificate for being top recruit. His Royal Marine cap badge would be handed out a few days later at the passing out parade. "Have you thought about what you'd like to do?" Morrison asked with a typical public school accent. "I've always been interested in diving and swimming sir," he replied enthusiastically, "so something in that area would be good." Morrison looked at his training records. "So I see," he remarked leafing through them, "top marks in the pool, have you thought about the SBS, Carruthers? They could use a man like you." "I've never even heard of them, sir. What are they?" Derek asked wondering. "I'm surprised you've never heard of the SBS. Don't they teach you anything nowadays in school?" Morrison asked sharply, but there was no menace in his question. "No sir," Derek replied honestly, wishing his nose would stop being itchy as he stood with his legs apart and his hands behind his back at ease. "The SBS is short for the Special Boat Service," Morrison proudly explained. "I'm sorry sir, that still means nothing to me," Derek replied. "Well let me explain," said Morrison. "The SBS was formed during the Second World War to attack enemy shipping and coastlines. They used specially trained men versed in underwater diving and combat. Of course then it was staffed jointly by the Marines and the Navy, but nowadays it's mainly just us Marines," he explained. Seeing some recognition and interest on Derek's face, he continued. "The public hears a lot about the SAS, but our lads in the SBS are a much tougher group. They do all the interesting and tough jobs." "Such as?" Derek asked, knowing a sir on the end wasn't needed. Morrison was in a different world, he could tell. "Well, in 1943 Colonel Blondie Hasler led 9 men in five two-man kayaks thirty miles up a river in France, mostly underwater, and sank nine German warships with magnetic limpet mines. Hasler and only one of his men escaped unhurt overland, through enemy territory to Spain," Morrison explained and then continued, "In the fifties another squad recaptured a large supertanker, hijacked by 20 armed terrorists in the North Sea." Derek stood and listened to Morrison recount several more stories of bravery in actions all over the world. They all had a lot in common, unarmed and armed combat combined with diving skills in difficult situations. That made his mind up "How do I get into the SBS, sir?" Derek asked seriously. "I can get you an interview to the next selection panel," Morrison said proudly, "another 18 months of good service you'd qualify." "How could I qualify?" Derek asked, "I'm not exactly big and strong." "Well, recruits for the SBS should be small and compact just like you," Morrison explained and then continued, "Big men just don't make the grade. All potential SBS recruits have to pass out from basic training in the top ten per cent and in the top five per cent in knife and unarmed combat. You qualify on all counts, Carruthers." "Thank you sir," Derek said and then asked, "How does the SBS training compare to what I've just done sir?" He was internally pleased that he might go forward for SBS training. Morrison smiled and then sat back as Derek stood before him in his best uniform itching and sweat trickling down his face. "You don't get any extra pay, if that's what you're thinking," Morrison said quickly, dispelling any ideas of sudden riches that might be earned in defence of Queen and country in such an elite fighting force. "But-" "But sir?" Derek asked. "But you can expect more rapid promotion, and you'll work with a great bunch of guys," Morrison continued with a glint in his eye. "Of course it's more dangerous than in the Marines, but then you don't get any guard duty at any embassies or other square bashing ceremonials either." Then Morrison added what Derek wanted to hear, "You do have extra training, in all manner of boats, diving, airborne assault and handling all kinds of special weapons, including mines and explosives." That made his mind up. "When I'm able, I'd like to join the SBS sir." "You sure you want to, Carruthers?" 'Stupid question,' Derek thought as he said, "Yes sir." "Very well, I'll make the recommendation on your record. All you have to do is get through the next 18 months in her majesty's service. Attention. Dismissed," Morrison barked, saluting as Derek was marched out by two happy and it seemed quite proud Drill Sergeants. With that goal in mind, Derek applied himself at first as a Commando based at Arbroath in Scotland where he gained his lance corporal's stripe. After another long 9 months in the ranks of the Marines at Portsmouth, Derek eventually joined the fourth squadron of the SBS in Poole, a small coastal town in Southern England. Quickly Derek showed his promise when he received a second stripe to reach the rank of corporal in the space of just 2 years of service, just before Operation Desert Storm started against the Iraqi invaders of Kuwait. The Royal Marines, along with the Americans, were scheduled to make a diversionary landing on the beaches just south of Kuwait City, while the main coalition forces pushed into Iraq from Saudi Arabia. As part of the attack the SBS were to go in and clear any mines before the main assault craft entered the coastal waters. When Jim touched that mine, Derek nearly bought the farm too. Chapter 3 - Recovery "He's not really fit to answer any questions yet," whispered the Surgeon, who had operated on Derek for several hours on board the biggest warship in the Royal Navy. "He won't remember much about what happened anyway and probably for the previous 24 hours, if my experience is any guide." "Is he conscious yet?" Asked Captain MacTaggart softly. MacTaggart was Derek's Commanding Officer. "Yes, but he's still a little deaf from the blast and you may find it difficult to question him. His speech is slurred because he also lost some teeth and his lips were gashed," explained the man, who had just saved Derek's life, "and please don't tire him too much." "I'll only speak to him for a few minutes if that's OK? I wouldn't want to do anything that'll delay his recovery or harm him in any way," said MacTaggart, "does he need to know what's happened to him?" "No, but I suppose he'll need to know sooner or later what's happened, remember please keep it short, he needs rest," the Surgeon continued. The two men stood by the bottom of his bed talking and Derek, sensing something, opened a groggy eye. He'd half expected to see the nurse who had just made up his bed in preparation for the CO's visit. He had no idea how long it had been since that night off the coast of Kuwait. When he saw it was MacTaggart, Derek almost jumped to attention in bed, but only lisped out, "Corporal Carruthers, 7843796, sir." "Well, Sergeant, you certainly seem to have caught quite a package," MacTaggart mouthed slowly so Derek understood. "You'll soon be at home after another week here at the NATO base in Saudi." Derek nodded and then his mouth dropped as he asked, "Sergeant sir?" "Didn't anybody tell you? We've given you an extra stripe, congratulations Sergeant." "Thank you, sir," said Derek, who tried to salute, but his arm was tied to the side of the bed to hold the saline drip tube going into it. "Do you remember anything about the blast Sergeant?" MacTaggart asked, sitting down beside Derek's bed and carefully placing his cap on Derek's bedside locker. Derek shook his head and tried hard to remain conscious. As his eyes flickered back towards sleep, Derek could see the surgeon looking at his Commanding Officer (CO) with concern. "Has anyone told you what happened to you?" Asked MacTaggart with a little more urgency. Derek just shook his head no again. "I thought not. I hope you can remember that you were clearing mines along the Kuwait coast-line, in about 20 metres of water," MacTaggart explained. "As far as we can make out, Private Bottomley triggered one somehow and the poor chap died instantly." A tear dropped down Derek's eye as that was explained in such a matter of fact way. Jim was his best mate in the unit and he was going to miss him. Come to that, so would Jim's family. "When the mine detonated, you must have been about 20 metres or less away. Johnston on the other side of Bottomley seems to have been lagging behind, out of line, so he suffered very little damage, only slight deafness." "What happened to me, sir?" Derek lisped, spitting out saliva between the huge gap in his front teeth. "The blast tore you mouthpiece off and that took your top two teeth with it I'm afraid. Your ear-drums were blown out and that's why you're still rather deaf, though they're healing nicely now and it shouldn't give you any future trouble," MacTaggart answered. "Why do I hurt so much?" Derek asked. "You were twisted into a pretzel, tearing ligaments in all your joints. You should recover from that, though, but it will no doubt cause some serious arthritis in old age," the surgeon answered, but Derek despite his tiredness could sense they were holding something back. "How did I survive, sir, without my mask and mouthpiece?" Derek asked curious to know the answer. "Ironically it was the shrapnel from the mine that saved you. It seems that one piece cut your weight belt, and entered your stomach. With your lead weight gone, you just floated up to the surface unconscious, bleeding from your stomach wound. How you escaped without the bends is beyond me," MacTaggart said. "I was lucky, sir," Derek said suddenly believing it. "I'm lucky to be alive." "Now there was one other major wound," MacTaggart said suddenly as he changed tone and tensed up. "Where sir?" His mouth opened but nothing came out, so he coughed to clear his throat. "I'm afraid you were hit by another piece of shrapnel," said MacTaggart who licked his lips nervously and then hesitated a moment. "It passed, umh it passed between your legs, umh but high up." At first Derek didn't understand what MacTaggart was trying to tell him, had he lost a leg, so he stuttered out, "I don't feel any pain, was I badly wounded in the leg sir?" "No Sergeant, the shrapnel went between your legs, I'm afraid you've lost your manhood," MacTaggart said rushing on. "Completely?" Derek asked, feeling numb rather than shocked; he was surprised that he didn't feel any pain down there. MacTaggart looked over at the window in an uncomfortable manner. He avoided a direct answer and then replied, "I'm sure the surgeons and physicians will be able to do something to help you." "It doesn't matter, sir. I'm still alive," Derek said, slipping back into sleep rather than face the reality of the situation. He would leave that for another day. "I'll let you rest now, but I'll come back with some of the men and see you when you're a little stronger." With that MacTaggart stepped backwards and spoke to the surgeon as Derek drifted off to sleep, strangely tranquil despite his dreadful injuries. Early the next day Derek was just coming to terms with what had happened for the first time, when MacTaggart and Sergeant Brighton appeared suddenly at his bedside. Derek was already awake and feeling a little sore, but he was quite comfortable. The nurses had been looking after him, but now and then he could see them whispering in his direction in the corridor outside. "Do you feel like telling me what you remember of the incident now, Sergeant?" MacTaggart asked looking down at him. "I'm sorry sir, I don't remember anything after I left for the mission, sir," Derek replied truthfully. "Can you tell me what you do remember about the mission?" MacTaggart asked. "Six sections were to go in Zodiacs to a line four kilometres off the coast sir. Then we would begin our sweep, to open up a clear channel as close in as we could go." Derek felt reasonably happy that he could recall that much. "How deep did you expect the water to be?" asked MacTaggart. Derek thought it was strange that MacTaggart should quiz him over something that was common knowledge. "About 25 metres, I remember you telling us during the briefing sir," Derek replied. "Good. Go on." "You also said that we should be as quiet as possible, though we wouldn't expect any opposition," he replied, suddenly remembering part of his briefing. "And did you meet any opposition?" "I don't know, sir, I just don't remember. I do remember working out our gas mixture, but I don't remember actually filling the gas bottles." "What gas mixture did you plan on using, Derek?" Brighton asked joining in the questioning. "Since our maximum depth was supposed to be 25 metres, I planned for 30 metres, to allow a margin of safety. That's three atmospheres gauge, four absolute." "Quite right," smiled Brighton, because he had taught Derek all that. "Allowing for two atmospheres partial pressure of oxygen at a total pressure of four atmospheres, that meant we could use a mixture of 50 per cent oxygen, 50 per cent nitrogen. I could get that by mixing air and oxygen in a ratio of three to five," Derek continued, happy at least that he had remembered that part. "You don't seem to have suffered in your calculating ability. That's quite right, but you don't remember filling the bottles with that gas mixture?" asked MacTaggart. "No, sir, I don't," Derek replied. "Would you have had the bends, coming up from 20 metres after half an hour using that gas mixture, do you think?" asked MacTaggart, who seemed to be quizzing Derek harder than normal for some reason. "No sir, because part of my calculation in using that mixture was to avoid any risk of the bends. That might happen if we had to abort in the face of enemy action, and to avoid any decompression at the end of the operation," Derek said confidently. "Good man! Now how did you dispose your section below water?" "I left privates Spencer, Truro and Stewart as boat crew, and took down with me Bottomley, Johnston, Smith and Lance Corporal Pick. Bottomley was on point duty and Johnston and I were next. Smith and Pick were to swim outer flank. I don't know if that's how it worked out, though, sir." "Did you swim in line abreast?" asked Brighton. "I don't know how we actually swam, but I had planned to swim in a vee with Bottomley leading. The men were to keep visual contact, but spread out as far as possible." "Why weren't you on point?" asked Brighton. "I should have been on point, but Bottomley was in the right place and we were beginning to fall behind," replied Derek, who shivered suddenly realising that he should have died instead of Bottomley. "You planned it well and what you say is corroborated by the others. Johnston, your opposite on the right flank, beyond Bottomley, was a little out of position, and that's what probably saved him," commented Brighton. "How do you feel now?" asked MacTaggart, suddenly showing concern when Derek moved and winced with a stab of pain in his stomach. "A little better today, sir. It's easier to concentrate on what you're saying. I guess I've got a one way ticket back to blighty now, sir." "You certainly did, and we'll get you back to blighty as soon as you're fit to travel, but you'll have several more months in hospital back there." "I won't be discharged from the service, will I, sir?" Derek asked anxiously. He knew that he would get back in action again after he healed up. "I shouldn't think so, but you might be invalided out of the SBS into the regular Marines," MacTaggart said and that left Derek feeling deflated. "I shouldn't like that, sir," Derek replied with tears welling up in his eyes. "Cheer up Derek, I'm sure it won't come to that," said Brighton, but Derek could see it in his eyes that his active service career in the SBS was almost over. Chapter 4 - Back to blighty Derek was air-lifted from Saudi back to Pompey (as the Marines call their base in the UK at Portsmouth) and transferred to a naval hospital. His ears healed quickly and with a little surgery on his ear-drums his hearing was fully restored. Fortunately there was no serious damage to the inner and middle ear. His stomach wounds looked worse than they seemed at first. His thick diving suit and weight belt had absorbed much of the energy from the shrapnel and he was quickly stitched up, leaving a 5" scar just below his navel. Although all his leg joints suffered, the orthopaedic surgeon concentrated on his right knee only. Though the cartilage and ligaments were torn, he felt that they would heal better with physiotherapy alone, rather than with surgery. In thirty years time the surgeon told Derek that he might have severe arthritis. Derek carried a small scar on his right knee where the surgeon had entered to repair his cruciate ligament. A few days after his return to the UK an ophthalmic surgeon examined his eyes and his observations had Derek more scared than any other thing that had happened. "You seem to have escaped damage to the retina and optic nerve, but you have cavitation bubbles in each of your lenses," he said, looking through his viewer into Derek's eyes. "What does that mean?" Derek asked and then added, "In simple layman's language." "The mine explosion has caused bubbles to form in the lenses of both your eyes, just like the cavitation pits you see on the blades of high- speed boat propellers. They're caused by bubbles." "What will that do to my vision?" Derek asked, concerned that there wasn't much call for blind North Sea divers. "Oh there will be no effect for many years," he said, "but ultimately the lenses will start to crystallise, and then you'll start to go blind." "Blind? Oh God no," Derek cried, "I don't think I could handle that." "Oh I'm sorry Sergeant, this won't happen for another 20 years or so and it's nothing to fear, because we just do a small operation and replace the damaged lenses with clear plastic ones," he explained and Derek's relief became obvious. "Who knows what they might be able to do in twenty years time, I don't know, but it will surely be something better." A dental surgeon had fashioned a small plate to replace his two missing front teeth in a few days, while the third broken tooth was expertly repaired. It was funny not to feel the huge gap in the front of his mouth anymore, though he hated the thought of wearing dentures for the rest of his life. Derek began to dwell on his other major injury that he had somehow pushed to the back of his mind. He examined the dressings between his legs and each time they were changed, the nurses used to screen off the area with a drape. It all felt numb down below and he could barely feel what they were doing as they cleaned the suture lines. In some frustration Derek asked, "Why can't I see my injury?" "It's not very pretty Sergeant," they would say and he never really pushed the point. After the nurses had gone Derek saw that he wore what was like a large plastic panty and inside that was absorbent cotton material and dressings. Taped to his thigh was a catheter that carried his urine to a bag attached to the side of his bed. Derek was determined though to see what the damage was and one night, a few days after arriving back in the UK, he decided that he would steal a look. It took him some uncomfortable minutes before he had lowered the panty and started to undo the dressings. Layer after layer was unravelled before he reached his crotch and he stared at the single plastic tube that emerged out of his groin where his penis and scrotum had once been. There was nothing left of what identified him as a male. In the dim light he could see that his groin was badly bruised and the stitches were looking black and menacing. His view confirmed that it was all gone. He was an eunuch now and there was nothing that he could do that would ever change that. He methodically and carefully replaced all the dressings and lay back, stunned at the change of his body. He took his sleeping pills and slowly drifted off to sleep. The next day he was up walking about painfully on crutches with the assistance of Zoe, his Physiotherapist. It was good to get up on his feet again and she patiently helped him sit in a lounge chair in the warm sunshine. "Well done Sergeant," she said, "doesn't it feel better to be up and about again?" "Yes it does, but I'm feeling a little sad about what's happened," Derek replied from the comfort of the upright chair, then unkindly said, "It's not as though I can walk to the toilet with this bag attached?" "Oh that'll come," she said enthusiastically, "you've healed up really well." Little did he know that the medical and surgical staff were worrying about a satisfactory outcome for his genital injury. After some blood tests they decided that Derek should start taking some androgens to balance the loss of his testes. However they and Derek had to face the reality that he had permanently lost all sexual function. As they watched him read the newspapers, Doctor Hermione Goldberg was puzzled at the lack of any reaction to his traumatic injuries. "Any normal male would be ready to shoot himself, but not him, he just sits there and reads the newspaper." The paper was a raunchy paper with all sorts of sexy nude women inside and he didn't seem to notice; a point that wasn't missed by the tall blonde Doctor Goldberg. "I haven't raised the question of his sexuality yet in my interviews and by the way that he's looking at that newspaper we must tackle that first," said Doctor Goldberg to her colleague Doctor Jane Roberts. Hermione Goldberg had taken her advanced psychiatric training at St. Ambrose hospital, in London, which housed the world-famous sexology clinic, headed by Dr. Carl Hamburg. As a Major in the Territorial Army Medical Corps, she had been called up as part of the Gulf Force medical service. In her civilian life she had dealt with sexual dysfunction, in a wide variety of forms, from impotent men and women through to transsexuals who really wanted impotence. "In my opinion Carruthers doesn't seem to mind what's happened and that's a real cause for concern," she told Doctor Roberts. "Come and listen to this interview that I made earlier today." The pair headed for her office where she loaded the tape into her machine and they listened intently. "Tape Five, Patient Sergeant Derek Carruthers," her recorded voice said out of the speaker as the tape mechanism started working. "Today I want to be specific about the injuries to your private parts," she said, beginning the interview focussing on the major issue as she saw it. "The injuries really don't trouble me ma'am," he replied, wondering what she would ask next. "How do you mean, the injuries don't trouble you?" she asked probing and not fully understanding. "Well, I thought it would really hurt, but it doesn't," Derek replied. Major Goldberg paused the tape and then said, "See what I mean, any normal young man would be doubling up with concerns over the loss of his manhood." She allowed the tape to continue. "The pain relief is good here," the Major continued, trying to give him an explanation. "I thought..., I mean I, I thought, I would be in real pain," stuttered Carruthers, "but I'm not." "I wonder, did you ever have a girlfriend?" asked the Major. "No Major, I always felt uncomfortable where women were concerned." "Are you feeling shy now?" "No not really," he replied, "I feel quite relaxed with you ma'am." The Major stopped the tape and spoke again to Dr Roberts. "I decided to take the bull by the horns and confront him about his new reality and it didn't really upset him." "I see," said Doctor Roberts, "let's hear that then." Playing the tape the two listened again. "You know of course you can never father children now," she commented. "Yes I'm aware of that, thanks for reminding me," Derek replied. "I didn't mean to imply that you were less of a man, just that you cannot be a father to your own kids," she tried to rescue the position. "I know what you meant, but I never saw myself having kids anyway," he replied. "Why?" "Oh I never thought I would get involved with a girl for that to happen," he replied. "I've never even tried to have a relationship with a girl." "Have you ever had sex?" she asked another enquiring question. "I've never had sex at all, ma'am," he said feeling embarrassed. "I've never even kissed a girl, and as for boys, well let's just say that I'm not gay." "You mean you've never had any homosexual encounters either?" she asked. "No never, ma'am," he replied. "Did you ever masturbate?" she asked, unsure whether that would trouble him. "No, I've only done it once or twice, but it was always difficult to get an erection. Mostly it didn't lead to anything." "Lead to anything?" she asked. "You know, an ejaculation," he replied. "Have you ever ejaculated?" she asked. "I guess I don't have any sex drive. I've always felt my private parts were more of a nuisance than anything else," he replied, ignoring the question. Doctor Goldberg stopped the tape again and it was Doctor Roberts who spoke first. "He's a strange young man, no sex drive, no interest in sex with either gender, no masturbation either. Perhaps he doesn't really mind losing his genitals after all?" "It seems that way, doesn't it," Doctor Goldberg replied. "I really think he'll learn to cope without a penis and all we need to do is give him low doses of androgens to ward off any hormone deficiency. Too much and he might become suicidal." "Is there any more on the tape?" asked Roberts. "Yes," said Goldberg, pressing the buttons to restart it. "As I said earlier most young men would be distressed to have your injuries and would be praying for something to help them; they would regard it as the worst of any of the other injuries you received," said Major Goldberg. Roberts listened intently. She noted his innocent, almost childlike negative reaction, and then asked a further simple question, "Do you really mean to say you feel better off like this?" "Yes, I think I do ma'am," replied Carruthers, "it's much more comfortable, less obstructed as it were." "You do know that you'll always have to sit to pee. Doesn't that worry you?" "It might be a little embarrassing ma'am," he confessed and then added, "particularly on duty with other men around." "Yes I can see how it might be embarrassing," she agreed and then added for light relief, "for a man I imagine it would be very embarrassing, but then I don't think about it because I've always had to pee sitting down." "I'm sorry, ma'am," he replied smiling, "I wasn't thinking." "That's all right, Sergeant," she tried to sound conciliatory, "there's no need to feel embarrassed. I'm sure that you'll find a way to avoid any potential embarrassing situations like those." "I hope so ma'am," he said, wondering how the men would react when they saw a sergeant having to squat like a woman. "I'm going to speak to some of my colleagues in London about you and I'll see you tomorrow at the same time," said Doctor Goldberg. "Yes ma'am," he said slowly rising to walk out of the room. "Can you manage?" she asked. "Yes, my knees are just a little stiff and it takes a few steps to wear off," he replied, though he was fighting back tears as he felt the pain from his knees and hips. After listening to the tape Doctor Roberts commented, "I think you should contact that old boss of yours in London." "Yes, I was thinking that too, in a few weeks time I think Carruthers would benefit from a visit to London," said Doctor Goldberg. "Jane, thanks for your time." "Don't mention it Hermione, Carruthers is a fascinating case," she replied and she got up and put on her raincoat. "Keep me posted on his progress." "Yes I will," agreed Doctor Goldberg picking up the phone. "I'll just give Carl a ring to set things up." "As soon as he's fit enough have him transferred to the Combined Services Hospital here in London," said Hamburg over the phone and then added, "You can then refer him to me at St Ambrose for further examination." "Thanks Carl, I'll do just that," she said, heartened by his positive reply. "He sounds an interesting case," Hamburg said. "Oh he is, he is," agreed the Major. Chapter 5 - Officer Material Four weeks later, in the SBS barracks in Poole, Dorset, Captain MacTaggart and his CO Colonel Thomson were busy reviewing the positions of the men under their command following their return from the Gulf. "Sergeant Brighton's coming to the end of his usefulness in the SBS, sir, I've been thinking that we should transfer him to regular duties," said MacTaggart, looking through Brighton's file. "As always I trust your judgement, MacTaggart," said Colonel Thomson, "who would you want in his place?" "Before Desert Storm I would've said Carruthers without hesitation," replied MacTaggart after taking a sip of his hot strong tea, "but now I'm not so sure, though he showed great potential before he nearly copped it in the Gulf." "Yes that was a pity," responded the Colonel, nodding his head slowly. "The man should have died like his friend Bottomley, his injuries were quite severe," commented MacTaggart. "It might have been the kindest thing that could have happened to him." "I heard he lost his manhood," said the Colonel, "what a blasted awful thing to happen to a chap." "Yes his actions were rewarded with his third stripe, but it'll be months before he's fit for active duty," said MacTaggart, unhappy that such a brilliant career might be cut short and added, "If ever." "Maybe we can find him a desk job, he has the background knowledge to plan and process assignments, it would be a pity to lose that expertise," said the Colonel who remembered Carruthers during a training exercise off the coast of Norway storming an oil rig. "That exercise in Norway was first class and he was a credit to you and Brighton that day." "Thank you sir," replied MacTaggart, feeling pleased. "In the circumstances, I'll have to recommend Corporal Pick to replace Brighton. He doesn't have the same flair, but he's very thorough and very reliable." "How about putting Carruthers into officer training school, when he's fully recovered?" asked Colonel Thomson suddenly. "We could still use his expertise then, even if he didn't go on active duty." "I think that's an excellent idea sir," replied MacTaggart as he shuffled his papers and personnel folders. "I think that would demonstrate to Carruthers that we rate him highly and it might speed up his recovery. Besides he's a good organiser, takes initiatives and the men have always respected his judgement." "Right, then," said Colonel Thomson, "I'll put him forward and I'll expect you to let him know he isn't finished in the SBS or the Marines yet. Not by a long way." Both men laughed at the Colonel's attempt at a joke and relaxed back in their chairs. "I know he'll appreciate that sir," responded MacTaggart. "I'll pay him a visit tomorrow and it might also solve the problem of what to do if his injuries ever preclude him from entering active service again." Unlike other parts of the British military the SBS is a strange organisation with its own unique way of doing things. In part that was due to the necessity to get things done quickly and efficiently in time of war and in part to make sure that the top brass were able to keep the men as an efficient fighting unit with little or no distractions. Part of that uniqueness is that although the officers plan the operations, it's only the men and Non Commissioned Officers that actually get their hands dirty. Of course that gives the men far more freedom of action than any other service, it encourages initiative in often complex and highly hazardous situations. They are free to select and use any weapon they see fit for any particular task, from a long attack knife to special machine guns. They regard themselves as the elite with their base, not in Pompey itself, alongside the other Marines and Navy types, but a few miles along the coast. Chapter 6 - Recovering again After a few weeks Derek was able to get around with the aid of crutches and then a few weeks after that with a walking stick. His joints were still a little sore, but his flesh wounds had all healed up well. He did find it a little disconcerting at first to sit to pee, but soon it seemed normal to him. When Derek finally met Doctor Carl Hamburg he found him comforting and self assured. It made a welcome change to get away from the discipline of the military for a few hours and Derek quickly realised that the Doctor was extremely sympathetic towards him. However Goldberg had already made up her mind that it would be folly for Derek to go back into active service with the SBS and made the appropriate recommendations. However it was quite a shock when Captain MacTaggart paid him a visit in London. "How are you Sergeant?" MacTaggart asked. "Much better sir, now I can get around again, each day I'm getting stronger and I've started swimming. I did 300 metres yesterday and I aim for 400 today," Derek beamed happily. "Good for you," he replied, "I've been having a chat with Colonel Thomson and we've both agreed that you be recommended for officer training school." "Thank you, sir, but won't that mean me leaving the SBS?" Derek asked, suddenly deflated. "Actually it's the only way we can keep you in the SBS, Sergeant," he replied. "Unfortunately the medical reports show that you have permanent injuries that will incapacitate you for active duty in the SBS, though not for active duty with the Marines." Derek felt disappointed that he couldn't get back with the men, but asked laughing, "If I get my officer's pips, I suppose that means a pay rise then sir?" "Yes, provided you pass out as a Marines officer, it does," MacTaggart said and then added, "You'll be rotated back to the SBS and you do know that all SBS officers have served in the ranks with us, don't you?" "Yes sir, I knew that," Derek said, feeling happier that he faced further stiff challenges ahead. "Do you really think I have what it takes for leadership sir?" "I certainly do," replied MacTaggart smiling, "and so does Colonel Thomson." "When can I start officer training, sir?" Asked Derek. "As soon as the medics think you're fit enough, Sergeant. The next intake is in two months." Derek felt that he implied that it might be a good idea to be well enough by then. The next two months whirled by and Derek was soon back to full fitness, swimming and running like before. He pushed himself as hard as he could, but it was harder now for some reason. He had a lethargy that never existed before and he always had to dig deep within himself to overcome it. Derek passed his medical and made the next officer intake in the early autumn of 1991, almost six months after the explosion that nearly ended his life. He was the only ex-SBS man there and passed out top of his class, taking both the prize sword for physical prowess and the prize baton for academic work. That was a great day for his family, who having seen their son at death's door, now saw that he had come back stronger than ever. Even his dad was impressed. "Son, you've astonished me, you're a great man in my eyes," he said, tears welling up and Derek knew he meant it all. They shook hands and then hugged in one of those emotional moments for them both. Derek noticed that the tears flowed more freely than usual, but those tears were truly special between his Dad and him. Derek was gazetted Second Lieutenant, Royal Marine Commando, and posted to the destroyer, HMS Terror, based at Portsmouth, as head of security and with a command of a dozen marines. He was enjoying his new rank and his new job, but all that came to an abrupt halt two months later when they docked at Gibraltar. Derek, as head of security onboard, was summoned to see Commander Norris, Terror's captain. However the chat with the Captain was not what he had expected. Derek knocked on the Captain's door and was promptly welcomed into Norris's cabin. He offered him a glass of rum and they drank an obligatory toast to Her Majesty. "Thanks for your efforts on the trip Derek, unfortunately you're heading back to blighty on the next plane," Norris said matter of factly, sipping the rum. "Why sir?" Derek asked, suddenly realising what had happened to cause this. "Well, I've received a signal that you're to report to the Combined Services Hospital back in London. It seems a Doctor Hamburg and a Doctor Goldberg want to conduct a follow-up examination on you. Do you know what it's all about?" "They were the Doctors who got me back on my feet after I nearly bought the farm in the Gulf, sir," Derek replied. "I reported to the ship's surgeon because of stomach cramps a few days ago, but apart from that I'm fine, I don't understand why they want to see me again." "Ah yes, I remember reading that in your file, but I have no cause for complaints about the way you go about your duties onboard my ship and if it's necessary you can count on my support, Lieutenant," he said. "Thank you sir, I appreciate that," Derek replied, shaking his hand. "Maybe it's all a routine check-up or some of that Gulf War Syndrome stuff the press is going on about, whatever it's best you go back and sort it out. We'll be here for three days and we should be in Cyprus for a few weeks. So hopefully we'll see you there." Derek didn't think it significant at the time, but he had forgotten to pack his androgen tablets for the trip to the Mediterranean. As he walked down the gang plank to the waiting taxi he could picture them still on the shelf at home, where he left them in his rush to join Terror. He wondered if leaving those hormones would explain why the Ship's Doctor had referred him back to Doctor Hamburg. Clutching his pass the taxi headed for the airport and an unwelcome flight back to London Gatwick. After the long delayed trip Derek reported in as ordered to the Combined Services Hospital in London, who immediately sent him round to St. Ambrose to see Dr. Hamburg. Derek was surprised, but he was seen almost immediately. "What's this all about?" Derek asked him impatiently. However the good Doctor was in no mood to be rushed. "How long is it since I saw you last? Oh yes a few months now," he said to himself and not really to Derek. "Oh I see, you're an officer now. My congratulations, Lieutenant." "Thank you Doctor, but I'm sure you didn't call me back from Gib just to offer your congratulations," Derek replied impatiently, feeling Doctor Hamburg would get to the point soon enough. "Yes how thoughtless of me, tell me now, do you feel the same about your sex organs and your body, Derek?" "I don't understand," Derek replied, feeling insulted about the loss of his sex organs again. "Well, have you had any problems?" Hamburg asked, tapping his fingers impatiently on the desk. Derek hesitated slightly before replying with an unhelpful, "Not really, doctor." However Hamburg was suddenly alert and homed in Derek's slight hesitation. "You hesitated for a moment. What's up?" "Well it's just that... It's just that," he tried to get his words out. "There's no need to be embarrassed Lieutenant," Hamburg said, trying to make him feel more at ease. "Yes Doctor, it's my nipples, they seem tender and swollen. They're very sensitive to the touch. A few days ago I started getting belly cramps on board and when I went to the ship's surgeon he gave me some laxative. These things can't be anything to do with my injuries, can they?" Derek confessed, feeling the need to blurt it all out to him. Of course Hamburg knew all this, having heard it from the ship's surgeon, but he wanted Derek to recognise and acknowledge the changes himself. "Let's have a look at you then. Strip off all your clothes and hop up onto the bench there," he said, handing Derek a gown to wear when he had removed his dress uniform. "I'll be back in a few minutes, just ring when you're ready." Within 10 minutes Derek was back in his uniform, but Hamburg was holding the two samples that had been taken. Derek listened as Hamburg phoned the laboratory himself. "Dorothy, I've got some blood and urine samples, I need analysing immediately, the patient is a Lieutenant in the Royal Marines and his ship is waiting," he explained. "Can you do them ASAP?" Hamburg nodded his reply to the voice on the phone and then said, "That's great Dorothy, I'll get Hazel to bring them over straight away. How's Bill? Any improvement? Oh good, I'm sure he'll make a good recovery. What's that? Oh yes, a full hormone analysis, especially looking for oestrogens and progestogens and any other steroids. Goodbye." Hamburg rang for Hazel, his secretarial assistant, and he handed her the sample tubes marked Urgent. Then he continued with his interview. "Do you still feel tranquil about the loss of your penis and scrotum?" he asked. "I don't really miss them, the most embarrassing thing is not standing to pee at an urinal, but the officer's head on board Terror is fine," Derek replied. "Do you feel relieved in some way about the loss, have you ever felt that you should have been born a woman?" Hamburg asked, staring uncomfortably at him. "I... I'm not sure what you mean Doctor," Derek replied, "I'm a man and always have been. Just because I don't have a penis anymore doesn't mean I'm not a man." "Well it's not your imagination, your breasts are swelling and it's almost as if you have ovaries. Without a detailed blood analysis I won't know what's making them have that effect. If it's what I think it is, I'll want to keep you in hospital for an internal examination," Hamburg said, finally getting to the point. Derek gulped, "Surely not. I've my ship. I feel fine now and I'd like to get back..." Hamburg interrupted, "Lieutenant, this is more important than any ship, this could shape your future life." "I'd much rather get back to my ship, Doctor," Derek replied, feeling suddenly uneasy. "I'm sorry, but I must insist, because there's something here I don't understand. Let me phone the Combined Services Hospital," he said, picking up the phone. The conversation was short and brief, but the medical officer at the Combined Services Hospital agreed that Derek should stay the night in a private room there. Derek would report back to Doctor Hamburg in the morning for the results of his blood and urine tests. Derek returned sadly back to his private room in the Hospital and watched TV, read the newspapers and walked around a little. Unknown to him Doctor Hamburg was learning more about his endocrine system from the laboratory. "It's Dorothy, Dr. Hamburg, I've your lab report on Lieutenant Carruthers. They're being typed up as I speak, but I thought it best to let you know the findings straight away," she said in her usual friendly manner. "What are they?" Hamburg asked impatiently. "First, can you confirm that those samples are from Lieutenant Carruthers?" she asked. "Yes, I drew the samples and marked them myself, Dorothy," he replied and then laughed, "can't you recognise my scrawny writing?" "Oh yes, it's your writing alright, but I wondered if you'd mixed up the samples somehow. You see there are a few slight anomalies, but the whole endocrine picture is that of a young girl just going into puberty and not of a young male lieutenant." "That's just what I feared Dorothy," said Hamburg sighing and then repeated, "that's what I feared." "Can I do anything else for you?" Dorothy asked him. "No thank you," he sighed, "it looks like tomorrow is going to be a busy one for Lieutenant Carruthers and myself." He rang Derek and informed him that he would be needed for further tests. Chapter 7 - Second Opinions The next morning Derek felt distinctly uncomfortable as he returned to Doctor Hamburg's clinic. He had no idea what to expect, but he had a feeling that it was going to be profound after Hamburg's call to him the previous night. "I would like to do some more tests," Hamburg said when Derek arrived back in his room, "but first I need to confirm one or two things, would you mind undressing again?" "No Doctor, I just wish I knew what's going on," Derek replied, feeling increasingly impatient. "I see your pubic area has healed nicely," said Hamburg as he ran a warm hand up and over the healed stomach wounds and then palpated his budding breasts. "Are they tender or sensitive?" he asked, turning to wash his hands. "Yes, doctor, they are very tender," Derek replied, realising the feelings Hamburg had created had pulsed through his body. "I'd also like to take another blood sample now," Hamburg said, "I want the labs to run through some more tests." At that moment one of Hamburg's colleagues walked in, wearing her lab coat on top of a silk blouse and a nice tight skirt. "Hello Lieutenant Carruthers, so nice to see you, my name's Gillian Reid," she said sitting down in the chair beside the examination bench. Derek watched her cross her stocking covered legs. "Ah Doctor Reid," said Hamburg standing up, "I wonder if you'd undertake a second examination of my patient and let me know your findings. I have his blood reports and tests here for you to read when you've finished." "Yes Doctor," she said and got straight to work. Doctor Reid winced slightly inside when she observed his smooth crotch. However she asked Derek if he was in pain down there and when he said no she continued paying special attention to his small breasts again. After she was finished they both looked at one another oddly. "We'll just be a few minutes," Doctor Hamburg said, "you can get dressed again Lieutenant." Outside in Dr Reid's office they felt free to talk. "Did you notice the distribution of his body hair, Carl? The pubic escutcheon is flat across the top just like a girl's," Doctor Reid said, giving her opinion. "I can't say I noticed it particularly, but yes you're right, Gillian," Doctor Hamburg replied. "But what about his breasts, they're growing and they're going to cause acute embarrassment with his position in the Royal Marines." "Yes I agree, they are certainly puffy, but the areola are already wide, just like a woman's, and not small in diameter for a man," she opined. Turning to the blood test results, her eyes opened wide at the results as she studied them. "I've taken a second set of samples this morning, but the evidence suggests there's no mistake," said Hamburg as she scanned through the pages. "I agree Carl, there's no mistake. He has the hormone levels of a young girl about to enter puberty or is actually in puberty. Very high levels of oestrogen and progesterone, I'm astonished," Doctor Reid said. "I've heard of animals changing sex like this, but never in a human being." "Yes it's most peculiar," he said, confirming her opinion. "I think we need to do some ultra sound scans and take a wee look at the internal organs, but first I must set up a conference call with Hermione Goldberg. I think I had better include some of the staff in the Combined Services Hospital too." "What do you think is happening, Carl?" she asked. "There's a distinct possibility that Carruthers is a hermaphrodite. I can't think of any other cause, but let's wait till we've seen inside him," Hamburg announced. She nodded her confirmation of his assessment. Hamburg quickly arranged for a meeting of all the medical staff at his clinic the next day and Derek ended up with another night back in the Combined Services Hospital. When Derek arrived back the next morning, he found that Doctor Hamburg and Doctor Reid had been joined by a Doctor Lewinston from the Combined Services Hospital and Hermione Goldberg. Hermione smiled as he entered and immediately volunteered a relaxing comment, "You look well Lieutenant, it's nice to see you again." "And you ma'am," Derek replied, smiling to what he thought was still an Army Major. "Oh just Doctor now I'm afraid, I left the service a few weeks ago," she said, crossing her trouser covered legs to expose a pair of scuffed sensible walking shoes. "Doctor Hamburg called me back because I worked on your case before." "Excuse me Hermione, I'm sure that we need to get on," interrupted Hamburg impatiently and then to Derek he continued, "I've been discussing your case with my colleagues here Lieutenant." "Yes sir," Derek replied. "We are all agreed there is a problem in your hormone system and we'd like to get to the bottom of it," Hamburg resumed polite and yet forceful as ever. "Do you mind if we uhm, ask you a few umh, personal questions?" Derek was surprised because Hamburg never usually sounded embarrassed, so he tried to sound nonchalant, "Yes of course, Doctor Hamburg, if it'll help." "Ask away Doctor Goldberg," said Hamburg. "It's not my intention to embarrass you, Lieutenant," said Goldberg by way of an introduction to what was obviously about to be a potentially embarrassing question. "You told me shortly after your return to England that you'd never had sexual intercourse, is that correct?" she asked straight to the point. "Yes, Doctor, I've never felt any desires that way," Derek replied. "Just so we're clear, you've never been to bed with a woman or a man in the past?" Goldberg asked. "Or had sexual relations?" "No," Derek replied simply, but starting to blush uncontrollably at being asked such a question. "Have you ever kissed or been kissed by anyone, in a sexual way I mean?" she asked in such a way as to preclude his parents. "No, never," Derek replied, wondering why that should be so strange. "I'm Doctor Lewinton of the Combined Services Hospital," he said by way of introduction before asking something equally personal, "Before you lost your penis, did you ever have an erection, Lieutenant? I know it's a bit personal, but there's a valid reason for all these questions." "Not really, I only remember a couple of times when my penis stirred a little," Derek replied and then without embarrassment added, "it always seemed nothing like the erections I've seen in some porno movies." "About your testicles," went on Doctor Lewinton, "do you think they seemed normal compared with those you must have seen on other men?" Derek hesitated a reply and Lewinton asked if anything was wrong. "No sir, it's just that..." He hesitated. "Go on Lieutenant," said Hamburg. "It's just that I only ever had one testicle." "Only one?" asked Doctor Hamburg, raising an eyebrow over his glasses. "Yes Doctor and although the other men commented on it, I never had any problems worrying about the size of my penis or testicles," Derek replied, "it might have mattered to some men, but to me it seemed unimportant." "Why only one testicle, Lieutenant?" asked Lewinton. "Did you have an accident when you were younger?" "No sir, I was always that way, I remember that my mum and dad took me to see a doctor in Manchester about it, but he never did find the other one," Derek answered and wondered what embarrassing questions would he be asked next. "Do you know why he couldn't find the other one?" asked Doctor Hamburg. "No Doctor, I'm sorry I don't, I was only about 5 or 6 at the time, so I don't know the full story," Derek replied. "That's fine Lieutenant, just fine." Hamburg nodded writing up some notes. "Now then thank you for your patience, but I would like you to strip off your uniform again and allow my colleagues to examine you on the bench as before." Chapter 8 - Diagnosis Half an hour later the four doctors congregated in Doctor Reid's office and pored over both sets of blood test charts. Doctor Lewinton broke the silence. "It all points to the same conclusion, I'm afraid." "Yes I think you're right, Carl," said Doctor Goldberg. "The missing testicle is significant, as well as the lack of any erections. I just wish we could've examined him before the mine explosion." "The Lieutenant is very short at around 5 foot 6 inches tall, there's a lack of complete sexual development," observed Doctor Reid, "there's female fat distribution and absence of male body hair." "All this points to some testicular insufficiency or perhaps there's some ovarian secretion and that second undescended testicle is in the normal position for a woman," volunteered Doctor Hamburg. "I'll arrange an ultra sound scan in a little while to confirm that." "Yes, I'm coming to the conclusion that the Lieutenant is a bilateral hermaphrodite," stated Lewinton, who surprised the experts with his knowledge. "Yes, everything certainly points that way," said Doctor Hamburg, "he must have been born with one testicle and one ovary and now with just the ovary left, the Lieutenant is slowly being feminised. He was on a low dose of androgen though and that should have stopped that." "Yes, that accounts for the new breast enlargement," advised Doctor Reid, "and it perhaps accounts for why the patient has had no real sense of loss after the accident. Perhaps he hasn't taken the androgens for some reason." "Let's not be too hasty," said Doctor Hamburg, "I think we need a new psychiatric assessment and I would like you do that Hermione, since you did the one right after the injury. You'll be able to spot changes better than anyone else." "You and I, Doctor Lewinton, had better arrange to do the internal exam and see what there is inside. I'm sure there's an ovary, but there may be a uterus too. If there is we may be in trouble." Doctor Reid then stated the obvious that they hadn't considered, "if the Lieutenant has a uterus then menstruation may start at any moment. If there's no channel for discharging the uterus lining then there may be serious complications, even peritonitis." "By God, you're right, Gillian," said Hamburg, "I really hadn't thought of that." "It should be OK I think," said Doctor Lewinton, "we can undertake any emergency surgery tomorrow before any trouble like that develops." "We have ultrasonic equipment here," said Doctor Hamburg, "if you'd like that, we can start the investigations here." "I don't see why not, it doesn't matter where they are done," said Doctor Lewinton, who was happy to be involved in such an unusual case. "Right, consider it done," said Hamburg, who started to arrange matters in his mind. "If we need to go in, we can do that over the road tomorrow," said Lewinton. "It would be better here, but we can't fight the bureaucracy. I'll speak to the adjutant immediately when I get back." "Why don't we do the ultra sound test now and schedule any surgery and the endoscope for tomorrow?" suggested Hamburg. "Yes, why not," agreed Lewinton, who moved to the phone. Within a few minutes he was back. "The operating theatre is booked for 0730 hours tomorrow, Carl," said Lewinton, pleased that he could play his part. "I'd be happy if you or Gillian would assist me." Doctor Hamburg scur