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Soldiers Tale, by Caesar
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Soldiers Tale
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by Caesar(94)
Sicily was not what Ed had expected. Lieutenant Edward
Thurmann and his haggard, war weary platoon had slugged over
the hills while slowly beating back the Germans. Ed was part
of the famed British Eighth Army as it slugged its way across
the harsh island, having an important part in the taking of
Valguargerna. The Canadian's were well known for their worth
in battle, proving it in countless battles during the first
World War. In battles that few could remember or pronounce
properly.
Yet at this battle, the taking of Valguargerna, a significant
thing happened to the young Lieutenant. It wasn't the small
town, nor that particular battle, as it was just another weary
day in the life of an Infantrymen. No, it was when he had
attempted to change his fate that made it important.
His name was Sergeant Thomas. And during a lull in the
artillery bombardment, of which side owned the large calibre
guns didn't matter, two worn and dirty soldiers huddled as a
German sniper attempted to picked off any movement about the
shallow hole that the soldiers lay in. Rank had little
importance in the dusty hole, as the two men awaited for a
flanking manoeuvre to free them from the exposed spot they
found themselves in. Lieutenant Thurmann spoke to the
Sergeant of second section, attempting to hide his fear as
well as comfort himself with the sound of his voice.
Sergeant Thomas was four years older than his Lieutenant and
recognized the futile attempt at self control in a desperate
situation. So the man chatted openly, if not with much
cursing, with Ed Thurmann. The older man pulled his canteen
cup from his utility belt, then pulled a well worn dry photo
surrounded by dirty socks from the cup. He handed it to his
platoon commander.
The photo was yellowed with age and use, yet the ageless
beauty of the young woman in the photo was unmistakable.
Rolly Thomas yelled over the sound of a distant bombardment,
"My wife!" He was obviously proud.
"She's beautiful!" Rolly barely heard him as a few shots from
the sniper flew over their heads. As such, the Sergeant
missed the wide-eyed look of the Lieutenant as he gazed at the
gorgeous woman. She looked barely twenty. She wore a flowery
skirt, as was the style when they left for England, and her
light curly brown hair pulled back revealing her neck and high
cheekbones.
It wasn't at that moment that the "plan" came to Ed, nor did
it really occur what the consequences of his actions were
until a decisive moment came. Three days later, Ed Thurmann
had to send out night listening posts while the remainder of
his platoon rested. Sergeant Thomas's section was chosen for
the duty. Being the man he is, Rolly Thomas would pick the
most dangerous of the forward holes for his listening post.
That in itself isn't anything out of the normal routine of an
infantryman.
What happened next was.
Rushed intelligence came by runner to the platoon CP, or
command post, and immediately given directly to the officer in
charge, Lieutenant Thurmann. The orders were simple and to
the point, a German company was to advance on Ed's platoon to
"test the waters" and to capture prisoners. Just another long
night ahead for the platoon commander. Yet two things would
influence his decision this night. One, the runner was killed
by a stray mortar round less than 500 meters after leaving the
platoon CP. The other was that Ed had been plagued by the
image of Rolly's wife since first seeing the photo.
That was when the decision was made, without the knowledge of
his own commanders or the rest of his platoon, Ed held back
the information. It was a passive action. He didn't even
consider the full breadth of the action until the next
morning.
The attack came, and the platoon was surprised but with help
from an artillery battery and two lost Churchill tanks the
Germans were repelled. Yet, not without loss.
Rolly Thomas's body lay under a ground sheet before the sober
Lieutenant. The chaplain was due to come at any moment for
the personal items on the mans body. Quickly, Ed turned his
friend on his side and pulled the canteen and cup from the
webbing. Inside was the photo.
-*-
"Coming!" Mrs. Thomas, widow of Rolly Thomas opened the door.
Standing with his back to the sun was a man in the uniform of
a Infantry officer, a Captain.
"Isabell Thomas?" The deep voice asked. The pretty woman
began to shake, not since that terrible day a barely a year
and a half ago when a uniformed man had come to tell her that
her husband was killed in action, was she so scared. She
would always fear the sight of an unknown man in a uniform at
her door.
"Yes?"
"My name is Ed Thurmann. Rolly was in my platoon when he
died. May I come in?"
She felt slightly better, this was probably just a sympathetic
visit and not an official one. Meaning no bad news from the
Defense Department. "Of course. Please..." She closed the
door after the tall man entered her simple home. He followed
her eyes, and she felt reassured that his visit was friendly,
he was smiling happily and looked excited. But Isabell
noticed that behind the eyes was something else, some
darkness, but she immediately passed that off as his
experiences in the war.
"You are just as Rolly had spoken of." He looked over joyed
and took her hands in his. She felt warmed and a bit
surprised at this introduction. "I wanted to see you and tell
you that I'm sorry for your loss."
"Thank you, it was very difficult for several months
afterwards. Would you like some tea?" She spoke kindly, but
wanted to cover her awkwardness. This officer spoke as if he
had known her for years. With her hands still in his, she
headed him towards the couch. "I still have terrible
nightmares." He let go of her hands as she left him to enter
the kitchen. "I don't know how he
died, were you with him at the time?" She called from the
kitchen as she filled a kettle with water.
"Yes, he was laying right next to me when it happened." Ed
stood in the entrance to the tiny kitchen and continued to
lie, "I believe that I would be dead today if not for your
husbands gallantry."
She looked sad and also happy by these words. "Cream, sugar?"
"Sugar please." She continued to prepare the tea. "After
that horrific night, I was commendated and eventual given my
Captaincy. But it was your husbands bravery and courage that
really turned the Huns. I recommended him for his medal."
Isabell smiled at the tall man, happy that her husband had
such a good friend during a difficult time, and sad that he
could not be here with the two of them right now.
He followed her back to the living room, standing to drink his
tea, while she sat. Ed paced slowly about the small room and
took in the decor and memories, many small reminders for Mrs.
Thomas of her lost husband. "This house is just how I
pictured it. You are just as I pictured!" She nodded but was
unsure of what to say to his particular attitude. "The last
words Rolly ever said to me, was '...take care of my
wife...'."
She covered her embarrassment, "Oh, that was just like him.
Worrying about me even until the last moment." A tear
appeared in the corner of her eye. "I'm doing fine, his
parents are helping out and I have some wonderful neighbours."
"Of course." Ed Thurmann almost said it absentmindedly.
"Perhaps I could come by sometimes just too say hi?"
Contrary to what she really thought she answered politely, "Of
course. But I really am fine."
Edward stood to leave, placing the cup and saucer on the short
legged table. Isabell also followed him to the door, leaving
her tea on the table. Her arms were crossed about her, almost
as if she were hugging herself, and she felt great sadness and
pity. A return of the emotions she had felt when the news of
her husbands death first reached her, which was caused by the
visit from the officer and friend to her ex-husband.
Silently Ed turned and looked into the sad eyes of the woman
who had plagued his thoughts and was directly responsible for
the judgement to all her husband to be killed. All the damp
cold nights, looking upon her photo under a tarp with only a
match to light her face. It had been a happier face than the
one before him, also it looked ten years younger than the
woman before him. Yet, in his obsession he loved her
frantically, possessively, and with deep unnatural desire.
His arms folded about her easily, his lips finding hers. In
seconds his tongue slid between her unresisting lips to fondle
her gums and still tongue. It was a passionate, hurried kiss.
Perhaps it from the pain of loosing her husband, or her
happiness that she had finally heard the "truth" of how he
died, or maybe it was because she had not had a man in years.
But, whatever the reason, she responded to the Captain by
opening her mouth and began to spare with his tongue. Isabell
tilted her head and closed her eyes, her hunger was also
apparent, her body firmly pressing against the male hardness.
It would be hurried and rushed. Totally unbiased or
uninhibited. An action she had never done even with her only
love, her husband. Edward quickly lifted the skirt up to the
waist, while Isabell fumbled with the buttons on his fatigue
pants. She hadn't worn panty hose, since silk was still
scarce, but her panties were quickly ripped from her body.
Mrs. Thomas's back was pressed up to the door, her legs lifted
to encircle Captain Thurmann's slim hips. His strong hands
hurriedly moved her downwards onto his hard pole.
Isabell screamed out, while Edward began to grunt even as he
moved his penis in and out of the attractive widow. Her
pleasure easily evident by the moisture and sounds of her
passion. Nails bite into his neck and even through the thick
wool of his well pressed blouse. As his lips barely left her
soft smooth neck.
The end was as quick as the beginning. His seed pumping deep
within her lonely body, as her simultaneous response caused
her body to spasm uncontrollably and drench the front of the
soldier's wool pants.
All too soon, Isabell's mind realized what she had done, but
had no idea why she had done it. A huge wave of guilt ran
through her when the considerably smaller penis slipped from
her sex. Slowly she dropped her legs to the floor and lowered
her dress as she stepped around the panting sweaty man. She
felt blood drain from her face as she realized she didn't even
know the man that had just taken her. Also that he was a
"friend" of Rolly's was enough to give her guilt. She retired
quietly to her bedroom, leaving her guest to leave on his own.
Isabell Thomas spent a full hour in the chilled water of her
bath, before returning to her room. She had felt dirty and
the smallest reminder of her adultery practically sickened
her. Yet she smelled the unmistakable odour of food coming
from her kitchen and she felt her knees almost give out as she
realized her husbands "friend" was still her in the house with
her.
"How was your bath?" He asked, wearing nothing upon his body,
his well muscled body still showing signs of their recent
encounter, as she walked into the kitchen.
She wasn't sure how to ask him to leave, nor was she even sure
if she wanted him to. "Fine thank you." She shyly looked
upon his handsome body, "You didn't have to make anything."
"No problem. Thought you would want to get your strength
back." His toothy grin gave her a surprising chill. Ed
handed her the plate and fork, "I remember in Italy, some
months after your husband died, that the wine we found was
like heaven. I'll be sure to find some for you." He began to
eat at the table, his manners still reminiscent of mess halls.
Isabell ate daintily.
"I have to go to see Rolly's parents this afternoon..." She
wasn't sure how to continue, but was surprised that Edward
looked up at her, almost in anger.
Surely he didn't think this was something permanent, did he?
"I'm sorry I should have told you earlier." A long pause.
"You have me pleasure during a sad time and a moment when I
needed affection. For that I thank you." She placed her hand
upon his, but her pulled it from her. "But I think its best
if you go. Perhaps in time..." She never finished her
sentence.
A hand came around and hit the side of her face with a palm,
knocking her backwards off the chair. She lay on her side,
holding her face, tears rolling down her checks as Captain
Thurmann stood over her. Never before had someone hit her,
nor could she find a reason for this violent and sudden
action. Hadn't they been acting as adults?
"I'm sorry Isabell!" He sounded truly hurt. "Please! Lets
not talk about me going. We are the perfect couple, don't you
see that?" His voice was getting louder and harsher. "Can't
you understand that I love you? That I have loved you since
the first time I saw your picture! Your husband wasn't good
enough for you, but I'll make you happy, and you can be mine
forever..."
The last sentence froze Isabell's soul. Why would her
husbands best "friend" make a judgement like that? How could
he act and say these things if he was the friend he had
claimed he was. "I loved Rolly, and I still love..."
His beefy hands reached down and lifted her effortlessly.
Isabell shook violently, her body acting like a rag doll in
his grasp. "Don't say those things! Don't you ever say you
loved anyone but me ever again!" His eyes, wild and
uncontrolled scared the youthful widow more than the physical
abuse she was taking. "I love you dammit! I killed for you,
can't you understand that? Tell me you love me?!" He yelled
this quite loudly.
She didn't want to say it, she didn't feel any kind of
feelings of affection towards this man. If anything she was
confused and scared, while her mind logically comprehended the
true meaning to his words.
"Damn you bitch!" He threw her through the air and she hit
the wash basin, surely cracking a few ribs. Also her loose
dress ripped revealing a pale breast that again ignited the
passions of the maniac advancing towards her. "You will be
mine Isabell!" This time he lifted her and threw her over to
the counter, her body mostly laying on the hardened wood.
Mrs. Thomas's mind was racing, even while her body was abused
and frozen. She comprehended the actions about her, that
Edward Thurmann was forcing her upon her back while pulling
and ripping at her clothes. She also realized when his semi-
hard penis drove into her. Distantly she realized it was her
own voice that was screaming, but overshadowing that was the
words "I killed for you" and "husband wasn't good enough"
echoed about her head. Even the abuse to her body was
unimportant compared to the realization of what she had let in
her house.
A monster.
"Bitch...bitch...fuck yes...your mine...you better like this
Isabell or...yes...I'm going to finish...yes!"
Isabell Thomas felt the old wooden handle against her palm.
It wasn't planned nor had she searched about the counter for
it, something inside of her caused her to reach out finding
the old cleaver. It was heavy, and she needed to use added
strength to lift it from behind and above her head. The
momentum of lifting the object also caused the power of its
descent as the sharp metal chopped once into the neck of the
occupied monster above her.
She looked up in surprise at what she had done. Edward
stiffened, then reached for the object stuck in his neck. His
bulging eyes looked into the woman he "loved" as his strong
fingers pulled the heavy meat cleaver from his neck. It as
his death by that action.
The large quantity of blood pumped in spurts from the
butchered skin, shooting to about 4 feet covering the kitchen
and widow in a macrame red colour. Isabell felt his still
semi-hard penis pull from her sore dry hole as he stepped
backwards, frantically attempting to stem the tied of blood
from his body. Sitting up Isabell watched in grim
satisfaction as the man dropped to his knees, his eyes
revealing his life was only seconds from being lost.
Finally, Edward Thurmann fell face forwards in a pool of his
own blood. The loud silence deafened the widow until she felt
own vomit drive up from her stomach. Kneeling next to the
dead Captain, she emptied her guts and attempted to contain
her revulsion.
Isabell was right, she was able to take care of herself.
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