“Political correctness run amuck,” Sean said nodding his head in agreement.The policeman got on his radio. After a few minutes, he said, “The Ch...ef said he would be here in a thirty minutes, although considering the distance it might take him an hour.”“Must have a long way to come,” Sean said. The town only took about five minutes to drive through and that was only if you hit the traffic light when it was red.The policeman said, “He’s riding a bicycle.”“Why is he riding a bicycle?” Sean asked. The master bedroom however was being used. I flipped on the overhead light and saw that all four walls were covered in pale wood paneling but devoid of any pictures or artwork of any kind. The room itself was furnished with a pine-wood framed queen sized bed with matching pine night stands located on either side of it. One nightstand supported a knock off Tiffany style table lamp, and the other a telephone and wind-up alarm clock. Located against one wall was a full length pine dresser with. That day was my one hundredth in country. One hundred down, three hundred to go.On Monday morning, Fred made the ritual trip down to the TOC to pick up our next mission. He was back in thirty minutes with a target folder and looking none too happy. I gave him a raised eyebrow look as he tossed the folder onto the card table with a snort."We drew a Psyops mission," he said disgustedly. "And not only that, but we have to take the new assistant S-3 with us."Pysops was Army speak for Psychological. He looked like he was in his late 50s, with receding grey hair and a moustache, and striking blue eyes. He was smoking a cigar and carried a cool air of authority. The reason I had noticed him was that he had been looking directly at me. Although occasionally turning his head to watch a bit of the game, he seemed to be more interested in looking at me, and made no secret of it, staring right into my eyes, and running his gaze over my lithe body, stretched out on the grass. In spite of myself I.
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