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The year was 2008 and I had just come back. I walked into my house and saw them.

"Now who the fu -- [I saw two young girls there too, so fuck was not said] heck are you and what are you doing in my home?" I demanded.

The woman was in shock and grabbed her children protectively. They hid behind her looking scared in my direction.

"Who, who are you?" The woman asked.

"I am the man who owns the house you are in, that is who I am!" I told her harshly but without yelling. 'Is anyone else here with you?"

"No, just my children and I," the woman answered in a low voice that showed fear.

Her children were shaking in fear. This has to stop.

Kneeling down I ignored the mother and spoke to the two young girls. They were not physically close to me but I did not want to appear to tower over them. Where they were standing I was already too close to these frightened little waifs hiding behind their mother, so the calmer I was the better it was for them.

"I am sure that everything will be ok, so don't worry and don't be afraid. I would never hurt you or your mother. I am just a little surprised to find someone here. Now don't worry, we will work things out just as soon as I find out what is going on. No one will hurt you here so it will be OK. I promise no one will ever hurt you if you are with me." I said in a soft voice.

I am sure I did not look all that great after seventy two hours of traveling and six months in some hell hole. At least I stopped off before I got home and took a shower and got some groceries.

Looking around I could see that the house looked better than I did. I had been away for six months and by the look of things nothing had been damaged and the place was clean and neat. It was cleaner than I remember when I left and I was pretty clean and neat, now that there was only me.

"The, the, the owner said we could stay here." The woman said, stuttering, almost as frightened as the children.

"What is the owner's name, the one who said you could stay here?" I asked, keeping my voice down and not showing emotion that might frighten the mother or her children. I remained kneeling and looking up at her.

"Susan and Linda said I could stay here. My daughters go to school with their daughters." The woman said, trying not to break down.

"My daughters! Well it figures." I said with some exasperation, but still softly.

"Well you must know two of my granddaughters, Carley and Carey? They are about your age so you must see them at school." I said to the two girls. I did not care about the mother at this time, she would be taken care of later but for now the little ones had to be soothed.

Getting nods from both of them I went on.

"Well then, I have a special treat for little girls that play with my granddaughters. Do you like ice cream? I have some here with me." I told them.

Of course I got a big smile and a silent head nod for "yes" from both of them, even though they were still a little shaken and afraid of me. But trust comes easy to children, especially when mom is there and ice cream is involved.

There are a few things I do when I travel. One is to make sure everything is washed and clean and folded when I pack it to go home. I hate coming home and having to spend two days washing things. I also hated for my wife to have to do it, so I always did it before I came home. There were other things I wanted my bride to spend her time on and doing my wash was not one of them.

It was lucky for them that I came home fully equipped. I stopped at the commissary and picked up enough food for a month after I hit the gym and used the showers. That too was standard for me now.

"Call my daughters while I bring things inside" I told the woman.

"What is your name? My name is Franklin." I said.

Without waiting for a response or even hearing one I began to bring in bags and bags of food. The ice cream hit the plates first. They each got a scoop of mint chocolate chip ice cream with sprinkles on top. I always get ice cream for the grandchildren when I come home and that is their favorite. Ok, I get some for my daughters too; a father's habits are hard to break.

As the little ones ate I filled the freezer and refrigerator with everything I bought. I even went and filled the extra freezer and refrigerator that I kept downstairs in the underground garage.

I did not talk to them but I kept my body language relaxed and I did smile when I looked at them. The girls were pretty cute and deserved a smile. There was something missing in their eyes though. We would have to work on that. This time working on "that" would have to be limited to making them smile so I gave them another scoop of ice cream and a few more sprinkles. They smiled.

I live in a small community of twenty town homes. It was two attached and each had access to a common underground garage, that was divided up into two garages for each two town homes and they were completely enclosed, so you had a private garage for each unit but with a common drive to get to them. That way there was a lot of grass on top where we were and not much in the way of pavement. The entire community was built on an underground parking structure, with lots of grass above it and great drainage. There was only one entrance to the garage from the street area.

It took about thirty minutes and while I did the unpacking and after my "guest" had a time to talk with my daughters, I then spoke with both of my daughters and told them that I would be over in a while to see them. They are always my first stop when I come home.

These days I tend to travel a lot. No one knows when I come home, not even me. Well maybe they do tell me when I am going to go home but I don't pay attention anymore. One day seems to meld into the next and the previous one. I am just treading water in life right now.

"There is plenty of food so make the girls something good and nutritious to eat and maybe when I get back you will be so kind as to finally tell me your names." I said as I walked out the door with packages in both arms. I did not wait for a reply.

It was a nice thirty minute walk to their house. They lived next door to each other with a common yard that they made common by taking the fence down. That thirty minutes is not more and a couple of miles, if that. I could have driven but I was still wired from the trip and walking would help.

Once there I was with my daughters and granddaughters and yes, their husbands too. Hell, I'm a father. The thought of my daughters having sex with a man, even a husband, pisses me off. When they married my daughters I did not give them a gun, but I showed them the bullet. I was very protective. OK maybe I am not pissed after all these years but if they hurt them I will get pissed in a big hurry. Children are forever, especially daughters.

I learned all about my three "guests". I learned probably more than they would have wanted me to know. After two hours I left and took a walk to a store I know about, from years of visiting it.

I entered my house and in each hand I had a large doll, as if we had been walking holding hands. Not a hard doll but a soft one with a round happy face. Everything about them was soft and cuddly. They were huggy dolls; well that is what I called them. They were the kind of dolls that you could hug and never get a scratch.

All three of them were standing there expectantly looking at me when I walked into the house, holding a doll in each hand, like they were kids.

"Jane, Julie, these two little girls wanted to come home with me once they learned that you two were living here, so I agreed. I am sure they would love to play with you." I said from a kneeling position and in a very soft voice. I had learned their names from my daughters so I used them. Once I heard their story I completely understood.

"What are their names?" Julie, the youngest, asked.

"I don't know precious. They told me that they would only talk to you from now on so you will have to ask them." I said as I held both dolls out.

Jane and Julie walked slowly toward me, looking back and forth at their mother at least ten times in not as many feet. Then the little hands went out and the dolls were gone, each into the arms of an enchanted child. The girls even decided who would get which doll and they did it without saying a word.

It reminded of young monkeys that reach out to touch something and then finally letting go of mother run over and grab something but realizing that they were away from mom went running back.

They ran to their mother but looked out from behind her, smiling and cuddling their new dolls.

Sometimes life is good, and at other times it is very good.

Me, I was born a year too early. You see I was born in 1953 and because of that I was eighteen in 1971. Why is that bad? That was the last year of the draft and in 1971 I was drafted and got to play in South East Asia. It was not all that bad if you didn't mind getting shot at and hit a few times, and all that other shit. I sort of minded all of it.

My mother cried when I was drafted. My father cried even more. He had been in World War II and Korea. He knew what was going to happen. He was one of the "Frozen Chosin" and knew first hand what could happen in battle. He finally got back in 1952 and I was born nine months later, hence the mistake, I was born a year too early.

So here I am drafted into the army and not loving it. I did not have that much of a family life back home because I was sort of impulsive. Once I found out that I could actually go to school for free when I was in the Army I was a happy camper, except for that part about people shooting at me, and hitting me and the stabbing and that other stuff too. That definitely cut down on the study time and the happiness factor took a nose dive.

So by 1973 America was out of Vietnam and I had done my two years. But I was a greedy little piggy and liked being taken care of. You know what the say about the Army. The Army is like a large giant rubber, it gives you security while you are being screwed.

Before my second year was over I extended for two more. I did not worry much about a VRB [Variable Reenlistment Bonus] because it was shit for the infantry, but the computer guys [that was brand new then] and that type of MOS got a good one, up to ten thousand dollars tax free, if you were in Nam when you took a burst of six [six year enlistment] to get it. But what I did get was a stripe. I went from a Sergeant to a Staff Sergeant.

Now that kind of movement in rank in two years is unheard of today but back then it was common. We had a lot of people in uniform and even had an instant NCO program, but it was over by then. What I got was a "blood" stripe. Someone was busted and the local command kept the rank to give to a member of the unit, I was that member. Ok, it made me a dick to take it; but it gave me a nice bit of extra cash, better duty, and more free time. Fuck, I did not cause the guy to get busted down.

Now my time was just humping in the mud and the fucking rain, but what all I really wanted was the free education. By free I don't mean the GI bill, I mean fucking free. Yea, I got shot a couple of times, nothing serious. Not every wound is a chest shot with half your guts spilled out. Shot twice, stabbed once, that was more than enough. I had a few medals but nothing special. I was just like everyone else, I did not want to get killed and I was scared shitless all the fucking time.

Well good old Vietnam ended and I went off to the Philippines. Not bad duty. I was twenty and I saw Mahal and I was in love. That is a play on words because her name means "love," and I was in her in a flash.

Now I know what you are all thinking but you would be wrong. It was not Subic Bay and she was not a whore. To think she was, would be like thinking that every woman in Los Angeles is a whore because someone once fucked a whore in Hollywood.

When I saw Mahal I went right up to her and told her I loved her and wanted to marry her. She looked at me and said "OK" and we went to see her father. And it was just like that too. Well there were just a few days in between that we learned about each other.

Told you I was kind of impulsive and so was Mahal. We were a perfect fit. I needed impulsive.

Now her daddy had other ideas. He was career Army and was not pleased that a newly minted Staff Sergeant wanted his baby girl. He wanted Mahal to be one of the first women in West Point and I was killing that idea. Well there were a few younger daughters and they could go, Mahal was mine as far as I was concerned. When I saw what I wanted I took it and I wanted her. That is just the kind of guy I am.

Mahal and I had originally spent the day getting to know each other, and the night too, and the next day and that night. All in all we spent 72 hours getting to know each other before we went to see daddy. Daddy was advised that she was ok each day but not where we were and I was on a week's leave so it worked out.

Neither one of us were virgins and we wanted to make sure we were compatible and sure enough we were. All the parts fit in all the proper places, and a few of the improper ones. We did talk some but mostly it was moaning and panting and screaming each other's name.

Daddy was a Filipino American and a Sergeant Major to boot. He was old damn school. For our wedding he gave me a model 1911 Springfield Armory .45. Then he held a bullet between his fingers and showing it to me explained that if I wanted the bullet with the gun he would be happy to give it to me. I took a pass on the bullet but I kept the .45 and his daughter.

Mahal was an Army Brat and did not mind traveling with me. As a matter of fact we spent eight years doing just that. There was not a place we went that she did not know someone. It might have been someone she "grew up with" whose parents were in the military and was now in themselves, or a parent of a friend, or the friend of her parents. We had friends everywhere.

She knew my plans and agreed with them. Everyplace we went we both went to school. I had to pay for her but I was free.

Funny program they have in the Army if you are enlisted. They pay for school for you and it is free. If you are an officer you have to extend five years beyond your last paid for class, but we enlisted just get a pass on that one. Plus there are classes you can take right from the Army and they count toward a degree too, if you get into the right school. Ultimately in my eight years I had classes at USC, University of South Carolina is the first USC, and Duke, UCLA, [going to one USC is enough], and in Germany and England, and a few on the West Coast, including Cal. Tech; just to name a few.

By the time my second two years was about up I was almost had a Bachelor of Science degree in Engineering. That means it was reenlistment time and that means I got to talk with Top. Top was the First Sergeant, an E8 [Enlisted grade 8 out of 9 Enlisted grades] with an attitude.

The year was 1975 and all sorts of great things were happening in the world. In my world the thing that was happening was my reenlistment talk.

"You know why you are here. I want you to reenlist and help me keep my stats up. I know that as soon as you get your big time degree you are going to be one of those college pukes with a commission but if you enlist with me first at least I get the credit before you crawl your lazy ass out of here and pretend to be a gentleman and never work a day in your life." Top told me.

"Wow you convinced me. It is patently obvious that not many humans could withstand that withering display of facts and rational for a military career. Where do I sign?" I told him.

"Get the fuck out of my office cheese dick." Top said.

"What do I get if I take a burst of six top?" I asked.

Now I had his attention.

"Why you want to do that?" Top asked. The man was fucking born suspicious. When he was born he made his mother drop to give him 50 "good ones" and had her recite the then recognized General Orders applicable to the Army and the ones applicable to all the branches of service, just to make sure she was good enough to be his mother.

"I want a stripe as soon as I get my degree. I don't want a butter bar [second lieutenant] or even a silver one. I want a stripe and I want to stay infantry." I told him.

"Tell you what Franklin. You get your degree within a year and I will call in some favors and we will see about that stripe." Top told me.

Now this was a leap of faith on my part. I was blowing off being an officer for the "possible" privilege of becoming a member of the senior NCO club.

The difference between a Staff Sergeant and a Platoon Sergeant/Sergeant First Class [E7] is like the difference between being a captain and a Lieutenant Colonel. Yes you want to know about being a Major but the step is not high enough to show the difference. There are only nine enlisted ranks and as an E7 there would only be one step between me and the top enlisted rank. There is five steps between being a Lieutenant Colonel and a full General, so you see how high up I would be in the enlisted ranks.

I spoke to my wife about it and she agreed. The next day I went back in and signed the papers, I was in the Army for another six years.

Four months later I dropped a copy of my degree and transcripts on the First Sergeant's desk.

"So fucking what?" The First Sergeant said as he stood up, grabbed the papers in his hand, lifted his leg and ran them over his ass like he was using them for toilet paper. "Get your ass out of here Staff Sergeant or I will take the staff part and shove it up your ass."

I left a happy man. I told my wife and she was happy about it too. He did not call me a "cheese dick" and used my rank to address me. Now that might not be a big thing to you but coming from the First Sergeant it was everything.

I did my job and I waited and I waited and I waited. I did not say a word to Top about it or to anyone else. I waited five months and then it happened, my damn stripe came down and not through channels either. There was no promotion board with Department of the Army running things. It was just one set of orders, with no fanfare or anything else. They were just there.

The Battalion commander came into the company area and promoted me. While it would be standard for the company commander to promote up to Staff Sergeant, a promotion in a non-combat area to that rank is pretty important, so the battalion commander did it.

Usually there would be a party and all of that but it happened just that fast. The only people there were my wife and some members of the company and battalion staff.

I was handed transfer orders that same time and I was off to Germany to "soldier" during the cold war. And let me tell you they sure as hell "soldier" in Germany.

I did take a minute with Top thought.

"Thanks Top. You are a man of your word." I told him.

"I have no idea what you are talking about. And if you spread that dirty rumor about keeping my word I will hunt you down like the lying dog you are." The First Sergeant said.

Then he smiled and shook my hand. We stayed friends until he died a few years back.

They had to move me quickly so that no one would wonder how I got promoted without a promotion board. To the new posting I would be an E7 and no one would think about it.

In 1977 we had the first of two beautiful daughters. The first was Susan. Yes I know, but my wife did not want anything ethnic.

In 1979 the second daughter came. We, that means my wife, named her Linda.

During these eight years with my bride I got a Masters in Engineering as well as Computer Science and even managed a Ph.D. in Engineering. She got a Masters in Business Administration. She never used it but she said she got it so I would not be married to an uneducated woman.

In 1981 I left the Army but stayed in the reserves. I was offered an E8 slot but turned it down. I could have taken it and waited an additional year and hit the reserves but I knew the man next in line. I had a talk with him and told him and his wife that I expected him to be a Sergeant Major one day. He thanked me because the board would not meet again for a few years and this list would expire soon. That means others might score higher next time around and nothing is guaranteed. We were all there to celebrate when he made First Sergeant.

No I did not make this decision on my own; I talked with my bride about it. I sure loved being married to her; she was my true partner and soul mate. She even agreed to forego the promotion when I told her why.

I liked the Army so I stayed in the reserves except for some breaks at being active duty and we raised our two daughters.

I have to tell you there is nothing as much fun as raising two little girls. They are cute 24/7. Little girls are devious too. Now my bride saw through everything and so did I, but I pretended not to and let them get away with everything and anything.

All they had to say was "Daddy" in that sweet little voice, with just a hint of question in it and I was lost. I went into mushy daddy mode and was as pliable as mud in their hands.

During this time we found a place we liked and settled down. It was a small expensive but secluded group of town houses. I got a job with a defense contractor and while I was there I made a few new things and got patents on them. I could tell you what they are but then you would laugh at me. Bet you thought I was going to say I would have to kill you. During the next ten years I got somewhere near forty patents on little things and the government was the only buyer. I got pretty rich. Not as rich as I would have gotten if I was on my own but I was used to being taken care of, by the job and my wife. And working with the DOD fit with my reserve time.

My father in law finally got his wish, a daughter in Hudson High and she got a commission in the Army but not in a combat arms. She was a lawyer of all things and was in the Judge Advocates Office. She finally made General and then got out but stayed in the reserves as a General Officer and did some high profile military cases but much later in her career. To kill time she got appointed as a state judge.

So I had two sisters in law that became lawyers and a father in law that no longer wanted to give me that .45 bullet. Life was pretty good.

Two weeks a year I played soldier in the infantry and one weekend a month I attended drill. Life was sweet. My wife and little girls liked me in my uniform as much as I liked wearing it.

I went to dance recitals, and ballet lessons and bought barrettes, and small little pink shoes and cute dresses. That was the good years. Then they got older and became big girls and needed things like bras and bikinis and I also got a new gun for the boys that would be on their way soon.

President Reagan sent me to Granada for a few months and I spent some time in the Middle East for a few months. I was never shot at in the Middle East but I trained with a number of Saudi Princes; are they all fucking Princes? Granada got me a star on my Combat Infantryman's Badge [CIB]. I remembered that in Vietnam we had these old timers with two stars on theirs, WW2, Korea and Nam. Now I had one star on mine.

In 1989 I was in for a few months of training and damn if operation Just Cause did not hit and so I went to Panama for a month or two. My CIB now rated two stars.

Then a fool named Saddam Hussein decided to take over Kuwait and I was called up again. We rocked and rolled and locked and loaded and in one hundred hours of actual combat kicked his ass back into Iraq. We did not finish the job, that would come a decade later, but all in all it was a sweet little war, at least for those of us that came back alive.

Ole "Stormin Norman" Schwarzkopf ran a pretty nice little war. He ran us around the desert for months with General Powell as the theater commander, but in the end the war was over before it started.

Of course I was away for much longer than one hundred hours. By that time I was kicking forty in the ass and I was offered a commission to Major. I did not want the demotion so I said no.

About a month later I was promoted to Master Sergeant. I got a call from the Sergeant Major assigned to a high ranking General in Saudi Arabia Theater of operations, which is where I was.

"Here is the stripe I owe you Master Sergeant." I was told by the man I stepped out of the way for so he could make Master Sergeant ten years prior. He was now a Sergeant major with many years in grade. Good things seem to come back to you.

I told my bride and she laughed too. We invited them to visit and they did. We had a good month with them after the 'war" was over. You got thirty days leave when you come back from a war zone to decompress. I also got a third star for my CIB.

The kids were doing great. It was 1991 and they were twelve and fourteen and truth be known, my bride had to deal with them and those hormones; I could not handle that. They would have looked at me with those big eyes, said "Daddy" and anything they wanted would have been theirs, except allowing them to date before they were thirty-five. A firm hand was needed and I was not it, never was.

Three women in the house and you know they synchronize so seven days out of every month was hell no matter where I looked. Hell, I still loved it.

They might have been crazy as kids but they were still good kids. Ten years later it was 2001 and all hell broke lose. This was not some little war someplace; we were in a world war unlike any we had been in before.

Every country had someone that was shooting at us and then the country would say shit like, "well we did not do it, it was someone else." Well yea fuckers but they live in your damn house so we might as fucking well blow it up. Don't want you wife and kids to get hurt don't let terrorists live with you.

We broke a lot of things and made one hell of a lot of widows and orphans. That was the easy part, living with it, well that sucked. I went from Afghanistan to Iraq and a few places we were never officially in. Got another star for the CIB.

As a Master Sergeant I was assigned to a brigade as is the custom but I also hit the field when I could. But I was an old man compared to the kids out there and I would only be in the way most of the time. Frankly I wanted some of the action but I did not tell the wife that.

The year was 2005 and I was over playing in the sand box when I got the news. In 24 hours I was home. I called in every favor I had, and I mean every favor.

My bride, my joy and my life, was dying. They had found the cancer too late and there was nothing they could do about it. She opted for no treatment and I opted to not leave her side.

Thirty days later she left me. Less than thirty days after her leaving me I was alone back in the sand box. I was lost except when I was in a war. The boys needed me and it kept my mind occupied to have to think about them instead of me.

My girls had husbands and children to worry about and did not need me to worry about them or them to worry about me. In a war I got to worry about the young boys and girls that were in my command. Yes I did say my command, even though I was not their commander.

Still every night I saw her, my bride, right where I first met her, when I told her I wanted her to marry me. Each time I saw her she smiled and waived at me and turned and walked away. Each time she turned to walk away I tried to run after her, to call to her, but my feet would not move, they were stuck to the ground. My mouth moved but no sound came out. I would wake up, wanting to cry and then I remembered that I was needed by the troops and I put the dream out of my head and went on with what I called life.

She had been walking away every night for two and a half years when I came home to find it occupied. It really did not matter where I was, the dreams were nightly. If I slept I dreamed the dream.

After the little angels got their dolls I walked up stairs and started tossing the old sheets off the bed in the master bedroom. I wanted nice fresh ones. As I put them on she spoke to me.

"But you, you can't sleep here!" Jenny said. "Where will we sleep?"

"Well Jenny, you and your little girls are in my home and in my home I am the master and the master sleeps in the master bedroom and in the master's bed." I told her.

I had learned her name from my daughters, since she never did answer my question about who the hell she was. Maybe she did and I did not hear her.

"There is a very nice guest room and in a few days I will turn the third bedroom back into a bedroom from an office. But for tonight you three sleep in the guest room. My house, my master bedroom, my bed and this is where I sleep every night I am here." I told Jenny.