cardenio1611
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Registered: 07-2008
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The Lucky Lieutenant, Part One
The Lucky Lieutenant
by Cardenio1611
"But I've got to get on that plane," Angie Darnell pleaded with the stocky, weary, almost angry corporal behind the counter. "Here, here," she said, pushing the letter she had already shown him forward. "My letter to travel from General Crawford."
Corporal D'Angelo has seen a number of such letters signed by the general for travel for ladies in tight, multicolored dresses and wide-brimmed hats and wearing lots of makeup. "Look, Miss. As I've told you a dozen times, the plane is full. It's leaving in two hours. If you want to wait and see if we have a cancellation or a no-show, be my guest. But don't hold you're breath." D'Angelo almost said, "There's a war on, you know," but with several wounded soldiers and marines sleeping in chairs around them, it hardly seemed necessary. He turned and walked into office behind him, lowering the lights as he went.
Angie slowly returned to sit down. If she didn't get out of Seoul today, the Pleuton family would be sure to find her. She had maybe six hours on them. And this was the last plane for 36 hours. They wouldn't listen that she hadn't meant to cut Pierre. Family honor had deaf ears.
She looked around at the sleeping groups around her. Right across from her was a lady lieutenant, same height and build as Angie, also a blonde, sleeping, out like a light, her mouth wide open. Poor kid, Angie thought, some of these people have gone from bus to car to keep to bus again from far into Korea and probably hadn't slept for three days.
Angie suddenly had an idea. She walked over and sat in the empty seat next to the lieutenant. "Honey," she said. The woman didn't move. Angie shook her. The woman sighed and then went back into deep sleep again. Angie unbuttoned the lieutenant's uniform jacket and pulled her orders from the inside jacket pocket.
"Lt. Jane Swenson, rpt. Ft. Dix, N.J., August 17, 1952..."
No photo with the order. IDs had been done earlier. The policy to let civilians like Angie mingle with military had not anticipated what Angie was planning to do.
Angie got up and found the lavatory. It was dirty and too small to move about much, but she found something she could use. A bottle of cleaning sovent and a rag. Angie sniffed it. As the sayiing went, it could knock you out. She looked around som more, hidden in the darkness, and found an empty office.
Angie went over and started to haul Jane up. She dragged Jane's duffel bag along too, which was incredibly heavy. The lieutenant started to wake up, "What? What?"
"It;s all right, honey, you've got a stain on your dress. I spilled my coffee. I'm taking you to the lavatory."
Angie pushed open the door with her foot, plopped Jane in the desk chair, and quietly closed the door. She dragged the duffel in the corner. She opened the bottle and pour some of the liquid on the rag. In the fitful light from outside, she saw Jane well enough to jump on her lap and cover her face with the rag before Jane could scream. The soldier struggled, pushing with all her might, but Angie had her pinned, and within seconds Jane's head dropped forward.
Angie pulled the rag away. "Hope I didn't kill you, honey." She leaned forward and listed to Jane's heart. It was beating steadily. "Nah. You're alive, although I might have fried your brain. Sorry, hon, but I gotta make that plane."
Angie unzipped her dress and let it fall, removed her high heels, unfastened her bra and let it drop down and pulled off her panties. She leaned forward and pulled Jane up, laying her on the desk.
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