zzzzwoooo zzzzwoooo
The bullets whistled as they streaked over my head. At this point they were like mosquitoes on the farm I grew up on. But you didn't want to get stung by one of these pests. It had been 4 months since I left the comfort of the Canadian prairies and came to this God forsaken land. Here I was, somewhere in the middle of France toe to toe with the Germans. It was February 9th, 1943 and it seemed I would be spending Valentine's Day with my M1 Garand rifle.
The last 91 hours I had been stuck in this filthy fox hole. I hadn't slept, except a few moments here and there between mortar fire. It was cold and wet. I was so cold I couldn't feel my arms and legs any more. They were like hunks of meat hanging from my body that somehow moved when I wanted them to. It had been raining for what seems like eternity, but at this point every hour seemed like a day. I used what energy I had to prop myself up against the mud wall. I needed to keep my waist above the water that had collected in the bottom of what was likely to become my grave. I hadn't taken my boots of for over a week. I didn't dare at this point, the flesh from my feet would likely fall from the bone.
The sun was setting on a pitted battlefield. The hue across the sky mirrored the crimson stained ground below. We were preparing an assault on the enemy front. That was music to my bleeding ears. I couldn't spend another moment wallowing in my own filth, and after 4 days retreat wasn't an option. I would rather die in a hail of bullets than have endured this for nothing. The order was given and I rose to my feet. My heroics were short lived. The instant my head cleared the ridge a bullet slammed into my face just below my left eye, exiting through the opening of my ear. All I remember was a thunderous explosion in my head and a bright flash of light...then nothing.
"Badbone. Private Badbone, can you hear me?". Those words woke me to a world of darkness and excruciating pain. The voice was familiar. I tried to talk but my face was so swollen I couldn't form words with my mouth. "Don't talk buddy. You're gonna make it. You're gonna be okay. It's me Pooner. We're in Paris, in a hospital. You took a bullet to your ugly puss, but it missed any important parts. I don't think you're gonna be going on any dates soon though. We're the lucky ones. Most of the guys in our regiment didn't make it." Pooner was in my squad; he and I had each other's back. It was good to hear his voice, but I couldn't stay and slipped back into unconsciousness.
"Privé Badbone. Privé Badbone." This was a new voice. It was angelic, female and french. "Essayez de vous détendre." What was this angel trying to tell me? I couldn't understand her or see her. I instinctively raised my hand to where the pain was coming from. As it came close to my wounds my hand contacted gauze. The moist cloth covered the left side of my head and wrapped around the entire top covering both eyes. Suddenly her hand clasped mine. It was warm, smooth and the most comforting thing I had felt in a long time. "Move, try not to. You been out two days almost. Relax, I take care of you bonne."
I slipped in and out of consciousness over the next few days. It seemed like minutes to me and every time I woke she was there. She became my reason for waking and a part of me. Then five days after I was shot I was aroused by a kiss. The swelling in my face had gone down considerably and I could feel her moist full lips on mine. It was the first feelings of joy I had experienced in months. Her hand was on my chest and started to lift; I could tell she was pulling away. "Wait, don't go. I must see you. Please, remove the bandages from my eye." I could move my right eye lids again and felt I would be able to open that eye and look at the angel who had nursed me back from the brink of death. She gently lifted the bandages and wiped my eyes with a wet cloth. I fully opened it for the first time in days and slowly what was only blurred black and white images came into focus. The vision looking down on me was even more beautiful than I had imagined. She had long wavy blonde hair, full sensuous lips, a perfect nose, smooth porcelain skin, and dark eyes that were partially closed as if she was focused on only me.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"Victoria Jolie" rolled off her tongue.
"Thank you. I owe you my life."
Tears welled in her eyes as she said "Avoir Privé Badbone." and she started to pull away.
"Wait, where are you going? I've just seen you for the first time."
"I'm being transferred to Lyon. I have to go now."
She pulled away, ran out of the room and never returned.
I learned later miss Jolie spent five days never leaving my side nursing me back to health. I owed my life to this beautiful woman who stole my heart, but my first and last kiss with her was February 14, 1943. After I fully recovered I was medically discharged and returned to Canada with scars to my face and heart. I spent the next 3 years working on the family farm wondering what became of Victoria. Not a day passed that I didn't think about her and the few brief images I locked away in my mind. I had friends who had remained in France after the war and I had been in contact with them looking for Victoria. But the war had scattered people all over Europe and it was nearly impossible to track someone down. Then one day a letter from Pooner arrived. He was in Marseille when he overheard a couple soldiers talking about a gorgeous nurse called Victoria. Pooner went to the nearest hospital and sweet talked a clerk into revealing more information. It was her, Victoria Jolie. His letter included a residential address...my heart leapt into my throat and I fell to my knees.
February 14, 1946 there I was standing outside her door. Would she be there? Would it be her? Would she recognize me? Would she care? Would she be alone? These questions raced through my mind; my knees were weak; my palms were sweaty. I raised my shaking hand and gave a feeble knock. As the door opened it drew the breath from my chest. The next few moments were like an explosion of emotion...it was her. She was as beautiful as I remember her from the first time I laid eyes on her. Her full lips spread into a gorgeous smile as she instantly recognized me. "Badbone" she exclaimed as she leaned forward and hugged me. I threw my arms around her and held on as though I would lose her for another 3 years. As we drew our heads back and look into each others eyes the passion was instant. We kissed, at first just a peck, but then full lips became open mouths and wandering tongues.
For three years I had thought about this day and it would seem Victoria knew I longed for her. She grabbed me by the hand and lead me to her boudoir. There she let her dress slip from her shoulders exposing a body that every man would desire. She was wearing a black bra, panties, garter and stocking, and gold high heels. It was an erotic image to behold. Vic asked me to remove my clothing and join her on the bed, which I anxiously did. We fell into the mattress and kissed like only the French can, lightly stroking each other's face and body. Her hand glanced against my little soldier who was at full attention as I pulled down the straps of her brazzier. Her breasts were enormous and nipples perky. I enjoyed tenderly licking and kissing my way down her body, paying special attention to those tender ticklish spots. I removed her panties and garters and partook in the bounty of her glorious French valley. I lingered as long as she was able before she returned the favor of oral pleasures with skill unrivaled by any other. Unable to resist the temptation of each others body, Victoria moved me to a chair and called in the Calvary. A strategically placed mirror allowed me the pleasure of watching this beauty as our hips ground into each other. We returned to the bed where we alternated positions so that as one grew tired the other would take over without missing a beat.
After our passion culminated Victoria and I retreated to a hot bath that she had drawn earlier, complete with scented candles and rose petals surrounding the tub. As the warm water soothed our bodies we gently messaged tired muscles and caressed tender parts. Passions rose again and we once more engaged each other in a full out assault of our bodies. The previous sortie repeated again until we were drained of energy. Victoria tenderly laid her head on my shoulder as we enjoyed the moment of experiencing each other after so long.
Not only was Victoria a physical presence, but also an intellectual pleasure. She delighted me with stories of her travels that took her to many countries and experiences few have the pleasure of enjoying. She grabbed my attention with her marvelous personality and charisma. This lady, who had it all and then some, was still a humble and grounded maiden. The wait was worth it and more. I had finally reunited with the sweet Victoria.
Vous تtes Si Beaux
The bullets whistled as they streaked over my head. At this point they were like mosquitoes on the farm I grew up on. But you didn't want to get stung by one of these pests. It had been 4 months since I left the comfort of the Canadian prairies and came to this God forsaken land. Here I was, somewhere in the middle of France toe to toe with the Germans. It was February 9th, 1943 and it seemed I would be spending Valentine's Day with my M1 Garand rifle.
The last 91 hours I had been stuck in this filthy fox hole. I hadn't slept, except a few moments here and there between mortar fire. It was cold and wet. I was so cold I couldn't feel my arms and legs any more. They were like hunks of meat hanging from my body that somehow moved when I wanted them to. It had been raining for what seems like eternity, but at this point every hour seemed like a day. I used what energy I had to prop myself up against the mud wall. I needed to keep my waist above the water that had collected in the bottom of what was likely to become my grave. I hadn't taken my boots of for over a week. I didn't dare at this point, the flesh from my feet would likely fall from the bone.
The sun was setting on a pitted battlefield. The hue across the sky mirrored the crimson stained ground below. We were preparing an assault on the enemy front. That was music to my bleeding ears. I couldn't spend another moment wallowing in my own filth, and after 4 days retreat wasn't an option. I would rather die in a hail of bullets than have endured this for nothing. The order was given and I rose to my feet. My heroics were short lived. The instant my head cleared the ridge a bullet slammed into my face just below my left eye, exiting through the opening of my ear. All I remember was a thunderous explosion in my head and a bright flash of light...then nothing.
"Badbone. Private Badbone, can you hear me?". Those words woke me to a world of darkness and excruciating pain. The voice was familiar. I tried to talk but my face was so swollen I couldn't form words with my mouth. "Don't talk buddy. You're gonna make it. You're gonna be okay. It's me Pooner. We're in Paris, in a hospital. You took a bullet to your ugly puss, but it missed any important parts. I don't think you're gonna be going on any dates soon though. We're the lucky ones. Most of the guys in our regiment didn't make it." Pooner was in my squad; he and I had each other's back. It was good to hear his voice, but I couldn't stay and slipped back into unconsciousness.
"Privé Badbone. Privé Badbone." This was a new voice. It was angelic, female and french. "Essayez de vous détendre." What was this angel trying to tell me? I couldn't understand her or see her. I instinctively raised my hand to where the pain was coming from. As it came close to my wounds my hand contacted gauze. The moist cloth covered the left side of my head and wrapped around the entire top covering both eyes. Suddenly her hand clasped mine. It was warm, smooth and the most comforting thing I had felt in a long time. "Move, try not to. You been out two days almost. Relax, I take care of you bonne."
I slipped in and out of consciousness over the next few days. It seemed like minutes to me and every time I woke she was there. She became my reason for waking and a part of me. Then five days after I was shot I was aroused by a kiss. The swelling in my face had gone down considerably and I could feel her moist full lips on mine. It was the first feelings of joy I had experienced in months. Her hand was on my chest and started to lift; I could tell she was pulling away. "Wait, don't go. I must see you. Please, remove the bandages from my eye." I could move my right eye lids again and felt I would be able to open that eye and look at the angel who had nursed me back from the brink of death. She gently lifted the bandages and wiped my eyes with a wet cloth. I fully opened it for the first time in days and slowly what was only blurred black and white images came into focus. The vision looking down on me was even more beautiful than I had imagined. She had long wavy blonde hair, full sensuous lips, a perfect nose, smooth porcelain skin, and dark eyes that were partially closed as if she was focused on only me.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"Victoria Jolie" rolled off her tongue.
"Thank you. I owe you my life."
Tears welled in her eyes as she said "Avoir Privé Badbone." and she started to pull away.
"Wait, where are you going? I've just seen you for the first time."
"I'm being transferred to Lyon. I have to go now."
She pulled away, ran out of the room and never returned.
I learned later miss Jolie spent five days never leaving my side nursing me back to health. I owed my life to this beautiful woman who stole my heart, but my first and last kiss with her was February 14, 1943. After I fully recovered I was medically discharged and returned to Canada with scars to my face and heart. I spent the next 3 years working on the family farm wondering what became of Victoria. Not a day passed that I didn't think about her and the few brief images I locked away in my mind. I had friends who had remained in France after the war and I had been in contact with them looking for Victoria. But the war had scattered people all over Europe and it was nearly impossible to track someone down. Then one day a letter from Pooner arrived. He was in Marseille when he overheard a couple soldiers talking about a gorgeous nurse called Victoria. Pooner went to the nearest hospital and sweet talked a clerk into revealing more information. It was her, Victoria Jolie. His letter included a residential address...my heart leapt into my throat and I fell to my knees.
February 14, 1946 there I was standing outside her door. Would she be there? Would it be her? Would she recognize me? Would she care? Would she be alone? These questions raced through my mind; my knees were weak; my palms were sweaty. I raised my shaking hand and gave a feeble knock. As the door opened it drew the breath from my chest. The next few moments were like an explosion of emotion...it was her. She was as beautiful as I remember her from the first time I laid eyes on her. Her full lips spread into a gorgeous smile as she instantly recognized me. "Badbone" she exclaimed as she leaned forward and hugged me. I threw my arms around her and held on as though I would lose her for another 3 years. As we drew our heads back and look into each others eyes the passion was instant. We kissed, at first just a peck, but then full lips became open mouths and wandering tongues.
For three years I had thought about this day and it would seem Victoria knew I longed for her. She grabbed me by the hand and lead me to her boudoir. There she let her dress slip from her shoulders exposing a body that every man would desire. She was wearing a black bra, panties, garter and stocking, and gold high heels. It was an erotic image to behold. Vic asked me to remove my clothing and join her on the bed, which I anxiously did. We fell into the mattress and kissed like only the French can, lightly stroking each other's face and body. Her hand glanced against my little soldier who was at full attention as I pulled down the straps of her brazzier. Her breasts were enormous and nipples perky. I enjoyed tenderly licking and kissing my way down her body, paying special attention to those tender ticklish spots. I removed her panties and garters and partook in the bounty of her glorious French valley. I lingered as long as she was able before she returned the favor of oral pleasures with skill unrivaled by any other. Unable to resist the temptation of each others body, Victoria moved me to a chair and called in the Calvary. A strategically placed mirror allowed me the pleasure of watching this beauty as our hips ground into each other. We returned to the bed where we alternated positions so that as one grew tired the other would take over without missing a beat.
After our passion culminated Victoria and I retreated to a hot bath that she had drawn earlier, complete with scented candles and rose petals surrounding the tub. As the warm water soothed our bodies we gently messaged tired muscles and caressed tender parts. Passions rose again and we once more engaged each other in a full out assault of our bodies. The previous sortie repeated again until we were drained of energy. Victoria tenderly laid her head on my shoulder as we enjoyed the moment of experiencing each other after so long.
Not only was Victoria a physical presence, but also an intellectual pleasure. She delighted me with stories of her travels that took her to many countries and experiences few have the pleasure of enjoying. She grabbed my attention with her marvelous personality and charisma. This lady, who had it all and then some, was still a humble and grounded maiden. The wait was worth it and more. I had finally reunited with the sweet Victoria.
Vous تtes Si Beaux
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