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SparksChapter 5 free porn video
11:20 Thursday, May 16th, 1991
Building 102
Ft Huachuca, AZ
"Yes, Mom, I know I just called you Sunday for Mothers' Day. I might see you before the end of the month, I'm being sent to El Paso on duty for a day or two soon." Ben stood in the stairwell, on the payphone to his family. "I think I may have a surprise for you. I'll let you know when I have more details."
The conversation carried on for a few more minutes, then Ben hung up the phone. Sandy kissed him before he could even draw breath.
Sandy and Ben were having a discussion. She wanted to have sex, to feel his body against hers, to twine her limbs amongst his. Since they were in the barracks, she settled for the discussion. The conversation was surprising. Gone was the tentativeness, the uncertainty in their relationship she'd felt before. Ben certainly seemed to be free of it also. Together they discussed the latest turn in their TDY and what it meant for them.
"I feel OK about us working separately, Sandy. I've said it a few times now. I won't clam up or be nervous with the NCOs." Ben sounded exasperated, but Sandy heard through it. He's proud that he looks at things differently now.
"I can see us both changing. I want us to be sure that we're still together at the end of this." That wasn't what Sandy intended to say at all, though she found she meant it.
Ben took her hands, and slid off the couch in the lounge he'd been sitting on. He came to rest in front of Sandy, and looked up into her eyes. "Babe, they'd have to ship me around the world to keep me from you," he said thickly. Startled to hear the emotion in his voice, her own eyes started to water in response.
"You and I will surprise them all. We'll handle whatever comes our way, and even if they ship us in opposite directions around the world, we'll beat the odds." Sandy heard the note of conviction in her voice, and was pleased.
Fifteen minutes later, Ben whistled in the staircase on his way to his own quarters.
06:45 Friday, May 17th, 1991
Range B
Ft Huachuca, AZ
Sgt Dave Bush found Ben waiting outside the range in an Army pickup. Ben had called the afternoon before to let him know he could expect to run an unspecified number of soldiers through sidearm certification. He'd also asked for personal time on the range, which Dave gladly agreed to.
It took them an hour to gather coffee, targets, and other paraphernalia together. While they prepared, there was little conversation. After they'd begun perforating targets, Dave and Ben discussed the order Ben had received from the First Sergeant.
"Sergeant, the First Sergeant wants to get everyone in the Delta Company cadre run through here, to recertify with the pistol. He expects the company to be in the field, supporting this thing with the Border Patrol." Ben didn't have to say more, as Bush knew about the detail he and Sandy were on.
"You know, Ben, I'll need a co-instructor. What were you doing next week?"
The two men continued to shoot through the morning. After they packed up and put away the various equipment and supplies, Dave showed Ben how to fill out the paperwork and gave Ben a key to the range shack and lockers.
09:05 Friday, May 17th, 1991
Building 102
Ft Huachuca, AZ
Davis roped Sparks into the morning NCO staff meeting. The Specialist was unsurprised to be named with PFC Collins as the experts for consultation on the upcoming exercise with the Border Patrol. He then disclosed that the cadre would visit Sandy's twelve-inches-to-the-foot scale mockup exercise east of Benson. Next, he announced that PFC Collins would orchestrate running the men in the four platoons in the company through motor licensing and the NCOs through sidearms certification.
He yielded the floor to her, and she spoke briefly about getting communications gear. She briefly described the two-way radios SSgt Brooks found, and named Brooks as the radio technologist who'd handle the telemetry haul back to a mobile station that SSgt Brooks would define, and the need for a telephone exchange. She explained what the sensors and hardware looked like, and ran briefly over the expected bi-weekly maintenance cycle for the sensor heads (mostly clearing of dust) and the batteries. Davis watched in approval as she asked who her contact was for obtaining more batteries and setting up a reconditioning station. He noted she didn't ask in a manner indicating she needed help. Instead, she asked as if the help were a given. Sparks was born for leadership.
A five-minute Q&A session followed. Davis watched as Sparks claimed the spare desk in the room for herself and the PFC. He gave some thought to PFC Collins, and decided the relationship between the soldiers was doing him far more good than harm. Already the boy carried himself better, more like a soldier should.
18:15 Friday, May 17th, 1991
Burger King
Ft Huachuca, AZ
Sandy sank down into the hard plastic booth. Ben stood in the order line, with her order for a Whopper Junior, rings, and a vanilla shake.
"Hey, Sandy, good to see you!" Sandy turned around, to see SFC Florea two booths away. "You guys want company?"
Sandy wanted nothing more but for the day to be over, and she had definite longings for a bathtub. She'd allowed herself to think about Ben, naked but for a loincloth, feeding her grapes while she relaxed in a marble bath under waving palm fronds. Still, she rallied gamely, and smiled back at Sergeant Florea. "Sure, come on over! Ben should be back any minute."
The youngish 1st Platoon sergeant slid in the booth across from Sandy. "How're you holding up? This is gonna be the pace for the next couple of days," referring to the near constant stream of people with questions Sandy had faced.
"Sergeant Florea, I feel like a bone fought over between about five dogs. This exercise seems to be the most exciting thing this company's done in years."
He nodded. "Yep. Staying here instead of going to the Sandbox had a lot of people down. About a year and a half ago the last excitement was sending stuff to Desert Shield, and then the war kinda went its own way, leaving us behind. I think everyone sees this exercise as a break in the monotony, kinda like a field trip to a theme park or something."
Ben plopped the tray he carried down on the table, and slid in next to Sandy, who moved over enough to let him in. Sandy didn't move far enough to maintain space between them, though. "Hey, Sergeant Florea, good to see you!"
Florea smiled in genuine warmth. "Hey, Ben. Sergeant Brown says I've got pistol cert with you Monday."
MSgt Brown acquiesced to Ben and Sandy's claim on the desk next to his with no apparent difficulty. He'd also accepted the task Ben, politely, requested of him as senior Platoon Sergeant, to create a rotation for pistol certification amongst the company's NCOs.
Ben nodded, looking a little uncomfortable, but answered. "Yeah, then I get to run Headquarters Company through cert for the rest of the week. I can't believe how this exercise is snowballing."
Sandy nodded. "Next week, I get to go through all the paperwork for getting two-way radios. Then I get to go sign for mobile GPS stuff. And I need to get with Sergeant Brooks so he can find what he needs to set up his backhaul. Whoever said the Army moves on a sea of paper was soooo right."
Florea laughed again. "You two're doing fine for your first day of this stuff. Don't worry, the easy part is in the field. You'll learn." he smiled beatifically at them.
They talked easily for a few more minutes while they ate, the conversation drifting to, of all things, pickup trucks. Florea was of the opinion that Fords were better than Dodge Power Wagons, but Chevys and GMCs were the work of the devil. He left them with a "See you next week!"
10:05 Wednesday, May 22nd, 1991
Small Arms Range "B'
Fort Huachuca, AZ
Ben pursed his lips and blew out the exasperation he felt. He'd never seen so many supposedly-grown men act badly in one place before. They clowned around, bragging and strutting, not at all serious about their purpose here.
Sgt Dave Bush caught his eye and shared his amusement with Ben. Bush quickly looked stern again, as he turned to the soldier at his firing station. "Easy, Private. That's a weapon, not your dick, you don't have to choke the piss out of it."
Ben shook his head. The meetings and planning during the first part of the week had been bad enough. Attempting to teach soldiers who had supposedly been through Basic Rifle Marksmanship in Basic Training how to shoot was enough to try the patience of a saint.
"No, Sergeant. Look, point your finger like a gun. Now, trace the letter 'r', the small letter 'r', up the left edge of your target. Now draw the top of the 'r' so it crosses right under the black part ... and when you get to the center, squeeze the trigger. Got it?" Ben used a pleasant tone, even though he wanted to yell his frustration. "It has to do with big muscle motor control versus small movement motor control..."
One hour to lunch, then three more hours after lunch. Ben wondered if he'd be drooling in a straightjacket by then.
10:35 Wednesday, May 22nd, 1991
Near 31°27'01.5" N, 109°22'26.5" W
Disgusted, Sandy stood arms akimbo, hands on hips, looking down a small rise at a number of senior NCOs behaving like kids playing cowboy. The idea wasn't hers. More precisely, the XO suggested that letting a group of the more senior NCOs around the project out in the desert to look at a 'typical' installation in situ was a good idea.
She turned to find SFC Florea, back at one of the deuce-and-a-halfs. Three pairs of sergeants had each drawn a deuce-and-a-half, since none would ride in the back and their motor pool didn't have enough pickups. She whistled, a short sound which caught his attention. She beckoned and pointed at the ground next to her.
She ignored his amused look as he arrived, gesturing instead at the milling mass of soldiery playing games below. Some left footprints or raised dust, others pulled up the earlier-deployed equipment, still others were leaving, driving out to find other radios and sensors, at near highway speeds. Her sweeping gesture spoke volumes, and Florea's face fell.
"Oh, shit."
Sandy agreed with him. That pretty much seemed to sum it up.
She turned to Florea. "You know, they'd probably take it better from you than from me. Why don't you see what you can do to tame this while I go find Munoz?"
Sandy stalked toward the Border Patrol's Crown Victoria. She approached at an oblique angle, nearing without the men inside seeing her. They jumped as she knocked on the window, giving her a moment's satisfaction. Munoz lowered the window, and a wave of cool air rolled out of the car. Though Sandy didn't let her expression change, she felt a little hostility towards the men in the car, the air conditioning boosting it ever so slightly. "How's it going, Specialist?"
"Rey, they're like kids let loose on a movie set. I'm only letting people down by the Coronado Forest who've been up here first, to burn off the excitement. You need to help me insure they only come here when its broad daylight and they can't fuck anything up."
Munoz's expression hardened. "Specialist, this site is important. If the equipment here is damaged or left unconcealed..." he trailed off.
Sandy sighed. "I know that, Rey. They're just so ... eager, I guess. Better they work it off here."
Rey nodded. "Okay, Sandy. You're in charge."
As Sandy turned and walked away she tried to determine how she felt about the last comment Rey made.
09:35 Thursday, May 23rd, 1991
Building 102
Ft Huachuca, AZ
"First Sergeant, one more item of business." Munoz raised his hand.
"Go ahead," the First Sergeant nodded towards Rey.
"I have a meeting set up for Monday afternoon, in El Paso. I'd like to have Collins and Sparks there to brief my supervisory chain."
"Okay, Munoz. Have them back by Tuesday evening, please. Their TDY orders will cover it, they have transportation. Everyone here can stand to do their day jobs for two days instead," he finished dryly.
"You mean it?" Sandy squealed. "That's fantastic!"
Ben held her shoulders and snuck a kiss. Both of them were aware others knew they were a couple now. Still, it was best to not flaunt their affection, lest an unpleasant official reaction follow. She frowned at him, but couldn't keep it, and a smile broke out on her face instead. Ben felt like the sun lit up the inside of the stairwell. He turned to the payphone, and made a collect call. Sandy hopped on one foot or the other beside him.
"Hello, Mom? Yes, it's me ... listen, I'll be home this weekend. Yes, to visit ... well, they'll let me have my pickup to drive now ... what? Um, yeah, I'll talk to Dad about it ... listen, Mom? I'll have a guest for supper, is that OK? Yes, a soldier. Well, we're on this temporary duty together, and since we have to go to Hell Paso ... What? Yes, I know you don't like me swearing. Anyway, we have to go to El Paso to give a briefing, Monday, so we'll swing through Sterling County Saturday first. Okay, it's a date. Bye now ... I love you."
08:15 Saturday, May 25th, 1991
Interstate 10 Eastbound
Between Deming and Las Cruces, NM
Ben had been at the wheel since the McDonalds at Deming, and Sandy would take over again at the cutout to Odessa. They figured to reach the Sterling City area around 16:00 hours. Ben had forgotten his small cassette boom box, and the Army had not seen fit to install an FM radio in the pickup, therefore the ride was silent except for the wind and tire noise.
He daydreamt on the flat, arrow-straight, and boring highway, wondering if the mountains he stared at would ever come closer. Idly, he fought the driving wind coming from the south. By midday, it'll be blowing dust across the highway bad enough to slow people down.
Startled, Ben felt Sandy's fingers at his bluejeans' button. "Uh, Sandy? What're ... Oh. Um ... this isn't such a good idea, is it?"
Sandy looked up from his lap, and cocked her head away from the wheel. "Why? We're high enough in this cab the truckers can't see." She bent down again.
Five minutes later, as he was getting close, she sat back up a little, and giggled. "I ain't worried about the Border Patrol, either."
Ben wordlessly pushed her back to her task.
16:40 Saturday, May 25th, 1991
DeeCee Ranch
Sterling Co, TX
Sandy drove down the long driveway. She'd seen the silly log gateways for hundreds of miles now, driving down Highway 87, each one seemed just as preposterous as the one before. She drove up to a long, low ranch house, done in red brick with a nearly white asphalt shingle roof. A few trees shaded the surround. Several smaller buildings and a positively giant barn stood along the driveway. Sandy had no idea what the smaller buildings were for.
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