140 | John W. Warner IV Strikes that were fresh off an American supply ship; everyone was smoking them furiously after a shortage. Thats an antiquated term, old bitch, and Im not shell shocked, just…shell- averse. She blew a sweet Virginia plume Alice-way. Let me get this shite straight, youve been shacked up over there in Alex shagging an RN chap whilst hubby Dickie chases Italians on his destroyer. Training with radar and wireless units, dining in luxury, shooting snaps, and typing classified cow pats for the admirals has been your sched while I, the thirst-plagued desert mouse, fashionably thin from Jerry Iron Rations and dehydrated camel meat, have been dodging shells and bullets near the Libyan border whilst locked inside a ships boiler hurling same. Grounded and impounded, I was then ordered to perform endless filing duties plus odds and sods at a dinky RAF supply base west of here for days before I was able to come here and meet you via sultan McMasters return. Somewhere, not sure where, theres a disconnect.. .a beep in the line, old hen. Just cant put the old finger upon it. Still like ol Dickie, just not in love anymore. Alice passed gas and leered at her with wide eyes. Im with the Brigadier in regards to your wild tale of nomads, asses, and Afrika Korps hare-e-e-emsno aerial photos of big mythical Panzers, no sympathy. For all I know, you stole a Kubel and schnapps and buzzed around an oasis lobbing off tennis balls from an old flintlock blunderbuss at naked wankering Italians swimming in a waterhole and cooking red poppy orecchiette. f^owple-e-a-a-se tell me your disturbing dream. Bored silly. Fine, love you too n all. Let me gather some wits. She drew a thumb furrow on her forehead just as her father did. I was with Mumbly in the South Pacific somewhere, lots of palms, sandy beaches, both of us wounded. Takuta was dead in our arms, a bloody mess. We cried and screamed at the long line of Maori warriors jogging up a hillthey were half-naked, tattooed, with ornate necklaces, furry neck thingies, brandishing all kinds of weapons, clubs, spears and the liketo a huge, grassy step pyramid or something close to that. Youve never seen such buff and muscular chaps in your life, oily, sweaty, bloody magnificent specimens of our species. Faces of stone if not sticking out tongues in a war-cry. Some were women, fiercer still. We shrieked and shrieked at them to stop, begged them, but they didnt pay us any mind. They kept charging and yelling, fearless, reckless, unstoppable.The Germans were dug in withTigers ahead in the jungle, couldnt see them, but they were there defending the mound or pyramid. Tracer rounds flew and