Friendly Fire

Friendly Fire
By: Fire Starter (benaam@graffiti.net)

It all began almost a year ago in the US occupied city of Baghdad. Al Hisham hospital was full of war wounded and the hospital staff of three doctors and seven nurses worked along side U.S Military medics day and night to save as many lives as possible. The hospital had twenty-three regular beds and three office tables that, in this time of crises had also been converted into beds. On one of these make shift beds was sprawled a shaven headed marine with a fractured ankle and splinters in his left leg. The patient identification tag around his neck read "Sergeant Brad Wilkinson - 101st Airborne." Lying motionless in his bed he breathed deeply and stared at the ceiling with his piercing blue eyes. His wounds had healed but what he now suffered was a psychological damage and there was nothing the hospital could do to treat that.

There was something very strange about Baghdad. Almost a thousands years ago Muslim Sufis had prophesized three great invasions in Baghdad. These mystics had foretold that in times to come three great armies would invade Baghdad. All three of them will dethrone the ruling King, slaughter its inhabitants and reduce the city to ruins. Upon achieving an absolute victory, the invading armies would undergo a radical transformation. They will shed their old values and adopt new ones. They will become something they were not.

The first of the three prophesized armies was the Mongols. They came down from the mountains of central Asia and brought death and destruction to inhabitants of Baghdad. They burnt mosques and buildings, destroyed libraries and carried out mass slaughter. The last Abbassid Caliph was dragged behind horses till his bones were broken. Then he was crushed under horses' hoofs till death. But after achieving this historical victory Mongols began to transform. The soldiers abandoned beliefs of their ancestors and started accepting the religion of the conquered people. In two generations these conquerors had converted completely to the religion of Islam and became known as Moghuls. They began to erect libraries and mosques in far greater numbers that they had destroyed and finally built Taj Mahal in India one of the greatest architectural wonders of history.

The second prophesized army was that in which Sergeant Brad Wilkonson served. It was an army that came from the West in F-18s and Apache Gunships. It fired cruise missiles and dropped millions of tons of bombs reducing the historic city to rubble once again. The women and children that perished in the bombardment were conveniently explained away as "collateral damage in a noble cause." Then coalition tanks rolled in the city and the King was dethroned. He was sent to a war crimes trial with a pre-decided end, not much different than the last Abbassid Caliph. Then, just like the ancient Mongol hordes this new mechanized army also began to transform. It began to shed its old values and started searching for new ones.

It was this ideological transformation which Sergeant Brad Wilkinson was undergoing on this make shift hospital bed. It was something far more painful than any war injury he had ever sustained. He had rode into Baghdad like a noble warrior dedicated to destroying Saddam's weapons of mass destruction. Yet, the medicine factories he had destroyed were manufacturing aspirin and anti-biotics not WMD! Forensic experts had searched frantically to find something that would some how link these drugs to chemical weapons but there was nothing there. Everything that was found from the rubble could only produce aspirin and anti biotics. Brad Wilkinson had not given up hope. With all out belief in his cause he had raided medicine factories, storage houses, cement manufacturing plants, laboratories and every possible place that could be used to make chemical weapons. In the end he had found nothing. Saddam's weapons of mass destruction was a lie.

A few months after his arrival he was given new directives. According to these his squad was to look for a list of people instead of weapons of mass destruction. In that list the number one figurehead was the dethroned King himself, Saddam Hussein. Since it became clear that there were no WMDs in Iraq and the whole invasion was based on a lie, a new twist was needed to justify the war. All of a sudden the war was not about WMDs but to over throw a tyrannical regime. American TV channels from Fox news to CNN conveniently forgot that the reason for going to war was to eliminate weapons of mass destruction. Instead these media conglomerates became advertisers of a new war, the war to bring democracy in Iraq! With this new objective Sergeant Brad Wilkinson was leading his squad to raid neighborhoods now. Instead of breaking into cement factories, and laboratories they were breaking into people's houses. Young men were picked up from their weddings and other functions and dragged away for interrogation. Earlier that year U.S Secretary of Defense had signed papers that officially authorized the use of torture to extract information. These men who were picked up by the marines from various neighborhoods were sent to prisons like Abu Gharaib and tortured.

As these operations went on these terrorized neighborhoods began to turn against the invaders. They began to organize themselves into groups of local resistance whose sole objective was to ensure that any U.S patrol that entered their neighborhood would not leave without taking casualties. Suicide bombers were recruited and given targets. Improvised explosive devices were planted in street corners and mobile phones were used to communicate all movement of American troops to small lightly armed militias that now controlled the outskirts of Baghdad.

On the morning of August 25, 2005 an incident occurred which transformed the life of Sergeant Brad Wilkinson. It was a routine search operation like any other and the area they were assigned to raid was not a dangerous one. Yet, there was something different about the place that morning. All businesses were closed and shops had their shutters down. It was nine a clock and this place, which should have been busy with people this time was surprisingly silent. Sergeant Brad Wilkinson got down his armored Hummer and looked around. There was no one to be seen except for a five year old girl looking down at them from the balcony of a double story building. Within seconds her mother appeared in the balcony picked up the girl and went inside closing the door behind her. It was obvious that someone had tipped the neighborhood. They had been informed of the raid beforehand or the shops would have been opened.

"I don't like the smell of this." Sergeant Brad Wilkinson said.

"Yeah me neither." Lieutenant Steve Hanks replied. He was a short and stout young Marines Lieutenant who always said that he had come to Iraq to avenge September 11. The bare fact that none of the 9/11 hijackers were from Iraq mattered not to him. Iraqis were "brown people" with same facial appearances and clothes as the terrorists he had grown up watching in Hollywood movies. Thus was only one occasion during his service in Iraq that he had had to open fire. It was a great feeling to empty his automatic weapon on an ethnic group constantly demonized by the media. He had felt like a John Wayne, or more accurately a John Rambo who presses the trigger and enemies jump before his blazing machine gun and drop to the floor. This Hollywood engineered conscience had so far prevented him from seeing that thousands of innocent people had lost their loved ones to this billion dollar Hollywood fantasy. They had begun to hate him more than they loved their own lives and when that happens a suicide bomber is born.

A few yards away from him an unshaven, brown skinned young man sat in the driver's seat of his pick up truck and looked at the marines. The C4 explosive in the hood of his car had been wired to detonate on frontal impact. He counted each member of the squad as they jumped down the armored vehicle to secure the parameter. Initially he had thought about ramming his truck into the armored car before the marines got down but with three inch armor plating and additional sand bags the impact of the blast would have been reduced. Thus he waited for the Marines to jump out of this armored fortress and spill out in the open. He knew that the 50 pounds of C4 explosive would have a killing radius of twenty five yards so in his mind he calculated the exact spot where maximum number of troops would fall into his blast radius.

Unaware of the threat, Lieutenant Steve Hanks stared at the roof tops for a sniper. That is how it always happened in Hollywood movies. The bad guys opened fire from roof tops and their fire would always be ineffective. The good guys would open fire from below and never miss. As he scanned these roof tops for movement, his subconscious mind played the music, the suspense theme that would usually accompany such a scenario in a Hollywood blockbuster. Soon with his automatic weapon cocked, he was standing in the same pose that John Rambo would stand in if he was there. Legs wide open, head raised high towards the roof tops and weight of the body equally distributed on both feet. What an adrenaline rush!

A few feet from him Sergeant Brad Wilkinson looked around at each of the parked vehicles. He knew that in this war most of the casualties were not caused by snipers on roof tops but from improvised explosive devices. He also realized that with the squad spread out like this a lone sniper would take out one or maximum two guys if he was exceptionally good. An improvised explosive device would rip everyone apart. As his eyes went from one vehicle to the other a blue pick up truck moved. It pulled out of the parking lane a few yards away and began to head towards them slowly. Sergeant Brad Wilkinson kept looking at it as it came closer and closer. Then it picked up speed and literally leaped towards the squad just like a Cheetah leaps at a scattered herd of wilder beasts.

"GET OUT OF THE WAY ... SUICIDE BOMBER!!!" Brad had barely finished his sentence when a flash blinded him and the deafening blast shattered his ear drums. After a few seconds of total disorientation when he opened his eyes he was lying on the floor gazing at the sky. It felt weird for he never remembered falling down. As his body recovered from the shock he felt his leg hurting. He looked down and realized that he was lying in a pool of blood. The scene opposite to him was of total carnage. Wounded Marines crawled away from the ground zero, their uniforms drenched in blood.

The next thing he remembered was lying in the same spot and looking at a crowd of people surrounding him. They were mostly neighborhood locals who had come out after the blast. "You drop bomb from air ..." One of them said in strong Arabic accent. "This is what it feel to get bomb." His English may not have been very clear but even in his drowsy state Brad understood exactly what he was trying to say.

DAY 1

When he opened his eyes he found himself in a hospital. He looked around and realized that he was in a room which was once a small office for someone. The door was left open and he could see an empty passage outside. As he looked down he realized that he was lying on a table instead of a bed, yet it felt so comfortable. There was the sound of a baby crying somewhere and people talking in Arabic and walking around but he paid no attention. He just stared at the ceiling. Suddenly he smelled perfume and sensed female presence in the room. Raising his head he looked towards his feet and saw a young nurse with a syringe in her hands. She was an Iraqi Arab with olive brown skin, dark eye-lashes and green eyes. Even in his drowsy state he could tell that she was an amazing looking woman. He wanted to read her name tag so his eyes drifted down to her ample chest. "Laila" It said. She then lifted up his T shirt and pushed the needle into his stomach.

"Ouch!" He said as his stomach muscles tightened.

"You have very tight stomach muscles." She said in an Arabic accent. "Relax or it will hurt more." She injected the serum in him.

As he looked down at her he saw a crucifix dangling from her neck. Once she pulled out the syringe, he managed a few words. "You are Christian!" He said.

"Does that matter?" She looked at him.

Instead of answering he closed his eyes. He was only wondering if Christian Arab women were as unapproachable and conservative as their Muslim counterparts but he had no intention of discussing that at this time. His mind wandered more on his squad and how many of them survived the blast. He thought about this war on terror and how he had come into this place looking for Weapons of Mass Destruction that never existed. He opened his eyes and looked at the nurse. She was walking towards the door with the empty syringe. "Nurse?" He addressed her and she sharply turned around and looked at him with her innocent large eyes. "How many of my men died in that blast?" He asked.

She continued to gaze into his piercing blue eyes with her innocent, green ones. "I don't know." She responded. "The Americans don't give us that information." She said and then walked away.

DAY # 2

His Commanding officer was there to see him. Colonel David Grant was a tall and wiry man accompanied by two more marines.

"Is there anything you need." He asked.

"I want to know what became of my squad." Brad asked him.

"Two of them died on the spot. Hanks was one of them." He replied. "Besides you seven were seriously injured. One of the seven passed away yesterday and there are another two that won't make it." He took a deep breath. "You are luck to be alive."

Sergeant Brad Wilkinson closed his eyes and thought about the tragedy of this sad war. Someone had said once that in a war truth is the first casualty. He had seen that to be true. The official death toll that was being quoted in newspapers and television back in the USA only covered deaths that happened on the spot. Poor souls who died three or four days later on hospital beds were never reported. This made the war seem less costly then it was but it was marines like him that were paying the cost. Lying on his bed he closed his eyes. He had been cheated! There were no WMDs.

DAY # 3

He felt much better. He tried to rise from the bed and assumed a seating position. It was hot inside so he removed his t shirt and threw it on the floor below. Just then the door opened and Laila walked in. The musky scent filled the room and he inhaled and felt better. She placed a tray of breakfast on the table and then started shifting things around the room. He had seen her once before but in a very drowsy state. Now that she was walking about only a few feet away from him he took his time examining her closely. She was a pleasingly filled woman with large breasts and a narrow tapering waist. Her hips were large and round and the combination of narrow waist and wide shapely hips made her look like a brown skinned Jessica Rabbit. Her black hair was cut really short almost like a boy and that made her proud body really stand out.

"You should not try to stand up like this." She said suddenly turning around.

"Can't you give me anything to wear?" He said looking down at the t shirt which was lying under his feet.

"We don't have hospital robes. There is shortage of medical supplies all over Iraq." She said. Her eye subconsciously drifted over his lean and muscular body glistening with sweat. There was a brief pause of admiration but then she looked away in guilt, slightly embarrassed. "You can call your unit and ask for your clothes." She said.

A few hours later two marines were over at the hospital. They had brought him clothes, chocolates and some magazines to read. One of these was a back issue of Times magazine which featured war in Iraq as a cover story. He wanted to read it but then put it down and tried to stand on his feet.

A few hours later he was taking a shower. There was a rusty wall mirror in the washroom which had been removed from the wall and placed on the floor. It offered him a full view of his nude form. He was tall and lean with not an ounce of fat on his body. Though not overtly muscular, the extra low body fat still made him look like a walking talking anatomy chart! It had been days since he shaved and the stubble on his face showed it. Through out his career he had kept a shaven head but now a hairline was beginning to show. It reminded him of his college days when he had hair on his head. Long blonde hair with dark roots that made him look like a rock singer. Then he joined the Marines and started shaving his head because it was the most simple and inexpensive thing to do. In Baghdad heat it proved comfortable as well.

When he stepped out of the washroom his eyes met with Laila's. The door of the washroom opened in a room, which had been convereted into a storage area. The olive skinned nurse was standing at the other end of the room with a cell phone in her hand. She was speaking to someone in Arabic. As Brad stepped out wearing nothing but a towel around his waist she found her eyes examining his lean body which was still wet from the shower. His face and head were clean shaven and his piercing blue eyes showed a new energy which they had lacked. It took her a brief instant to check out his semi nude form and then her gaze turned away and her concentration returned to the phone conversation. As Brad got into his new T shirt, Laila finished the phone conversation and hung up.

"Husband?" He asked hoping to find out if she was married.

She gave him a nasty but cute look. "No! How is your leg?"

"Better" He replied. "I can definitely use some exercise." She handed him a pair of wooden clutches. "This will help you walk."

"I don't think I need that." He replied. "I have showered without it."

"You must keep weight of that leg." She insisted jutting the clutches at him. "Take it and I will give you a guided tour of this hospital."

Taking the clutch from her hand he started walking besides her. They stepped out into a lobby with hospital beds on both ends. It was a horrific sight with seriously injured people on both ends. One bed was being shared by two patients, small kids no more than five. One of them was a girl with a missing arm and a bandage over her head. Brad looked at the sadness and innocence on her face. The sight of her made him stop.

Laila looked at him and then to the little girl on the bed. "Her name is also Laila." She told him. "Her house was bombed by a cruise missile. When she was brought here her arm was dangling. We had to remove it. Every now and then she looks at it and cries. In order to make her quite we tell her that it will grow back. It's a lie."

Brad kept looking at her. She stared back at him with her innocent green eyes. "This is so fucked up." He said and looked away. As they walked between the row of beds, his eyes were exposed to crippled men, women and children. Those who were alert enough to recognize him looked at him with anger and disgust. Most were not in their senses to notice his presence. Finally she led him into his own secluded room with his table-bed, chocolate and magazines.

"You should lay down and read these magazines." She said and helped him sit on the bed.

He sat there gently and once the pressure was lifted off his leg he rolled over on his back and stared at the ceiling. Somewhere during that time he fell asleep.

DAY 4

He woke up and looked around. His wrist watch was lying on the table besides him and showed 5:30 am. He then reached under his table bed and searched for the magazines. Finally he pulled out one without looking what it was. It was the same back issue of TIME magazine, which he had intended to read earlier. The cover page had a picture of a three marines standing by the fallen head of Saddam Hussein's statue.

He started browsing the magazine, which boasted tales of military efficiency and courage. The whole magazine appeared to be a long advertisement for a mythical war. It featured stories of heroes, the "real life John Waynes" who were fighting to bring civilization to a savage race of brown natives. It was the same Wild West story, told over and over again with different characters. John Wayne and his fellow "pilgrims" were replaced by uniformed marines. Apache scalp-hunters were replaced by "Islamic terrorists." John Wayne was grabbing the natives land and the native's retaliation was an unforgivable act of barbarism! It had to be violently punished by laser guided bombs and cruise missiles which would kill them in thousands and tear the limbs of their children.

Brad Wilkinson then took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I am transforming!" He thought to himself. "What do I call this transformation? Does this change have a name?" Little did he know that centuries ago Mongol warriors underwent the same ideological transformation. They were entering a state of mind which had no name. They started shedding old values and entered a mental vacuum in which individual loses his sense of identity to his nation, tribe or family. He begins to search for morals higher than the ones that he was raised to believe. The Mongols called it Azzadi-fikar (liberation of thought) but Sergeant Brad Wilkinson was a man of the occident and oriental philosophy was uknown to him. In his language his present state of mind had no name. He decided to keep his thoughts buried within himself for in the West, a mental state without a name was the domain of the psychiatrist.

Suddenly he heard the sound of the door being opened at the sweet smell of the womanly fragrance. He sensed Laila's presence in the room but did not open his eyes. May be he wanted her to think he was asleep or may be he had closed his eyes to the world and was just getting accustomed to the ideological void. He sensed movement near his feet and when he opened his eyes. The nurse was bent over by his knees and examining the bandage on this leg. The top button of her neck was left open and that gave him an instant view inside her dress. He caught a glimpse of her generous melons just at the point where they met, pressed together forming a cleavage. She then straightened up and adjusted her dress. "You are getting better." She said looking at him while he undressed her with his eyes.

"And you are getting more and more beautiful to me." He blurted out.

She concealed a smile and started writing something on her note pad. As she wrote he kept looking at her, admiring her beautiful eye lashes and pout lips. The sight of her olive colored skin was very attractive to him. At this point he imagined what she would look like completely naked and the thought started to tickle his organ. Of all the thoughts that had gone through his head since morning it was this that he felt he could trust. There was nothing fake about this sensation for it was pure, animalistic lust. He knew that he would have felt the same sensation had he been any other nationality or race.

"I want to make love to you." He said looking at her.

The expression on her face and the movement of her hand just froze. She looked at him peering deep into his eyes as if to study his soul. Unashamed of what he had said he kept gazing back towards her with his ice blue eyes.

"I don't think it appropriate for you to talk like this." She said. "I will send a male attendant to look after you." She turned around and trotted out of the door swaying her large round hips. His eyes examined the narrowness of her waist and the flaring wide hips.

"What a killer back side!" He thought to himself.

Later that day he came out of the washroom, freshly showered and shaved and saw a male nurse in his room. He was a stout young man with an overtly humble demeanor. Brad looked at him and frowned. "Who are you?" He asked.

"I am Abdullah. I have been assigned to take care of you."

"That is so wonderful." Brad said suppressing the sarcasm in his tone.

"So how are you feeling my man?" He asked Brad.

"I'm fine." Brad said putting on a T shirt.

"Alhamdulillah." He replied.

"What is that?" Brad asked.

"Means praise be to Allah." He said.

"Yeah. Praise be to him ... where is Laila?"

"She asked me to attend to you." He replied without looking at her.

"I know but where is she?" Brad asked.

"Inventory room." He replied.

The inventory room was a large room with bandages and cotton wool stacked all the way up to the ceiling. There was bottled medication and boxed syringes to one side along with other packaged stuff that made no sense to Brad Wilkinson. He looked around and saw Laila standing next to an open cup board and counting inventory. He walked towards her slowly and stood right behind her.

"What brings you here?" Laila asked him without turning around to face him.

"You." He replied.

Slowly she turned around and faced him. "Why do you see me as a piece of meat?" She asked looking straight into his eyes.

"Because ... among other things that is what you are." He replied looking down at her breasts. Laila had a narrow rib cage and her perfectly rounded orbs, generous in both size and shape stood out proudly on her chest. He reached out slowly and placed his hand on one of her boobs, pressing it gently in his palm. It was so nice and full and he enjoyed its feel in his hand. Laila looked down at his hand pressing her breast softly but firmly. Surprisingly she did not protest or even step back. Instead she kept looking down at it as Brad fondled with her tit pressing and feeling it provocatively through the fabric of her blouse. Then Laila closed her eyes and dropped her head back allowing his hand to have its way with her breast. Soon his other hand joined in and with both his palms he was pressing her generously shaped breasts.

"What is your bra size Laila? Do you have the same bra sizes in Iraq?" He said as he fondled her.

"Thirty six!" She said breathing heavily her eyes still closed.

"Thirty six what?" He asked, his hands till massaging her breasts through the fabric of her blouse.

"Thirty six double dees" She replied in an out of breath and husky voice. By now her blouse had moved a bit and the strap of her white bra was visible.

"Would you bare them for me please?" He asked.

Before she could give her reply they heard footsteps. Brad immediately dropped his hand from her breast and that very moment another nurse walked in. She picked up a few bandages and left. After that he made his way back to his room and the rest of the day went un-eventful.

DAY 5

Brad Wilkinson woke up early in the morning and looked out of the window. Surprisingly it was not as sunny as it had been and leaves on the trees were swaying left and right, indicating that there was wind. He felt like going out for it had been a long time since he had been under the open sun. He reached under his table bed and picked up two bars of chocolate. Shoving one in his pocket he unwrapped the other while walking out of the room.

The patients in the main lobby were still asleep except for little Laila, the girl with the missing arm. She was sitting up on her bed and her mother was right besides her. Brad walked through the lane of beds and stopped besides her. She looked at the chocolate in his hand and then at his face. Brad slowly walked towards her bed and knelt down beside her.

"How ya doin Laila?" He asked her. She did not respond but looked into his eyes puzzled.

"Would you like to have some chocolate?" He said and then offered her the Kit Kat.

Laila looked at the bar and then to his face. Her eyes then went towards her mother who was sitting right besides her. She gave her a nod of approval and said something in Arabic. Laila's eyes then returned back to the Kit Kat bar. She then attempted to take the Kit Kat but the girl had been a right handed all her life. It was her instinct to do everything with her right hand which was with her no more. As he extended her right hand to take the bar it occurred to her that her right hand was missing from the elbow downwards! That's when her eyes filled up and a sad expression appeared on her face. Her mother quickly read her emotion and took her left hand in hers. She guided it to the chocolate bar and smiled. "SHUKRAN! (Thank you!) She told Laila to say to Brad. Laila just sat there with the Kit Kat bar in her left hand totally confused and baffled. The shock of doing a task with her left hand was far greater than the pleasure of the activity itself.

Brad shook the girls hair messing them up over her head and then, giving a friendly nod to her mother, walked out into the open sun. Deep down inside he felt sick! If this girl had been the victim of the London or Madrid bombings, the world would have called her a victim of global terrorism. Since she was the victim of an American cruise missile she was collateral damage in a noble cause! While the chocolate was a temporary escape from her reality, there was no permanent escape from it. This girl would grow up crippled and never be able to work for herself. She would turn into a beautiful woman but never be able to get married. It was a total waste of human life. What bothered Brad even more was that she was not the only one. Hospitals all over Iraq were full of such "collateral damage."

He then turned around and went back inside and this time he did not look at Laila or her mother. As he approached his room he noticed Laila standing inside by his bed. This was not the little Laila but the older one with short black hair and large breasts that pushed out of her tight shirt as usual. "So there you are." She asked as he stepped in the room.

"Yes here I am." He answered.

"Your breakfast!" She pointed towards a tray on the side table. It had two boiled eggs and a cereal.

He looked at it and then returned his gaze to the woman who stood in front of him. He said as he examined her closely. Her dark eye lashes were in sharp contrast to her ruby red lips. It was obvious that this woman's beauty was growing over him. "I am hungry for something else." He said.

"What would you like?" She asked looking down at the tray.

That very instant he took her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She found herself pulled into his body and soon her large breasts were pushed against his chest. "You!" He said and pressed his lips into hers. She protested but he was so much stronger. All this time in Iraq he had never been with a woman and the build up of lust was far greater than anything he could suppress. Within an instant his tongue slid in from between her lips and he was exploring the inside of her mouth in the dirtiest kiss of his life. By the time they broke their kiss, Laila was gasping for air. As he held her tightly in his arms he noticed how her heavy round breasts heaved up and down with each breath. The arousal he felt was so intense his penis was standing full erect.

"We can't do this." She said trying to push herself away from him.

He tightened his grip around her waist pulling her even tighter against his body. "Why not?"

"Its not ... professional of me to ..." She paused.

"You are being forced into this. You have no control over this situation." He said and then kissed her again. Only this time his hand traveled up her body and took hold of a breast. As he explored the inside of her mouth with his tongue, his hand lifted her boob up in the blouse and pressed it out of shape. It was so heavy and perfectly shaped that his already erect penis began to pulsate in his trousers with arousal. This time Laila was not fighting. She was allowing him to have his way with her. As their lips parted he looked into her eyes and saw raw desire. Normally she was a well-composed woman but such passionate kissing and groping had definitely shattered her psychological defenses.

"No... please release me." She said and he loosened his grip around her waist enabling her to step back from him. "What has gotten into you?" She said adjusting her dress.

He thought over her question for a brief instant. After going through this war, the morals and values he had been brought up to believe had collapsed. He no longer had any perception of right and wrong anymore. In this "value neutral" state, it was his animal urges that governed his behavior. He knew that at this moment if there was anything he could truly believe in, it was his arousal for the young Arab nurse. It was not a fake and engineered emotion like patriotism and love of the flag. It was not something that was imposed externally by institutions like media, school and peer pressure. His lust was something that came from within! He would have felt aroused by this woman even if he had been born into another nation, tribe or race. At that moment he realized just how badly he desired her. "I am sorry but I got a little over whelmed by your charms." He said as he sat down on his table bed.

"I can see that." She replied.

"What do we have here?" He said as he picked up the tray of breakfast. "Interesting!" He placed it back on the table.

"Do you want something else?" Laila asked.

"Yes!" He replied and then stood up. Slowly he walked towards the door and closed it. The next instant he bolted it locking himself inside the room with Laila. She immediately knew what was on his mind. Women generally have a sixth sense that enables them to sense lust in a man. They get to know his intention even before they have translated themselves into actions. She thought over the situation for an instant. A sexual advance on a nurse was not something people here would expect from a wounded soldier. With the door locked, everyone in the hospital would think that Brad is having his dressing changed. Nurses often locked doors when they were bathing or changing dressings of patients. The only way this situation would get known to people outside was if Laila wanted it. She had the option of screaming for help if this man imposed himself on her. She looked at him with eyes that were full of fear as well as excitement as he walked towards her.

Standing just a step away from Laila, Brad removed his T shirt and dropped it on the floor. As she looked at his chiseled physique up close she found her eyes even widening. He looked far better up close than he did when he had come out of the shower. Her heart began to beat in her chest loudly and her face turned red. Brad then unzipped his pants and stepped out of them. He was wearing a khaki underwear and the state of his arousal was obvious from the tent that formed in his pants. His erect penis was erect at an ingle of 45 degrees, pushing out of the underwear.

"Do you always have this effect on men?" He asked as he stepped closer. The very next instant he was reaching for the top buttons of her blouse. She stepped back and found herself pushed against the wall as he unbuttoned the first two buttons. As the first two buttons got undone a deep cleavage came into view, which disappeared finally into the confines of her black bra. Laila was getting extremely aroused. She told herself that she was getting raped but the option of screaming was available to her. Yet something inside her told her that she did not want to exert that option. She just wanted this man to have his way with her. Soon the third button was undone and then the fourth. Soon Brad gaped open her shirt and looked at her marvelous chest! The generously shaped melons were squeezed together in a bra, which looked one size smaller than the orbs it tried to contain and therefore left an impressive cleavage and upper swells of her breasts exposed. Laila looked down at her heaving breasts and saw them semi bare for this stranger. She was twenty-three years old and to this day no man had seen her exposed like this. The situation excited her immensely.

Then something strange happened! Brad pressed his naked chest against hers and kissed her flatly in the mouth. As she felt his rock hard chest press into her voluptuous chest she found her hand traveling up to his ribs. Though it was meant to push him back she found it resting there instead, enjoying the way his hardened midsection felt under her soft hand. The kissing just got more and more passionate till it seemed like Brad would just eat her mouth off. When it was over they were both panting. He was holding her tightly with his arms going around her body pressing her bra clad breasts into his bare chest.

"You look so fucking beautiful!" He said as he looked into her brown eyes. "For five consecutive days you have tortured me with your irresistible presence. How long do you think a man would be able to resist you?" Then he pressed his face into her neck and started licking and kissing it savagely. The intensity of his passion was so over powering, Laila just dropped her head back and stared at the ceiling. The pace of her breathing rose and he kissed and licked her neck and shoulder. Soon he was kissing the generously exposed upper swells of her breasts.

Laila was out of this world! No man had ever touched her in her life and for this to happen was far beyond anything she expected. Soon she felt his hands on her bra and looked down towards her heaving chest. Brad yanked down her bra and allowed those breasts to spill out of their confines. They were large, well formed boobs that jutted outwards towards him with excited nipples standing erect. Brad took one excited nipple in his mouth and sucked it. Soon he was taking as much of her tit as the capacity of his mouth permitted. Then he let go of her breast and started sucking on the other boob. He spent his time with it kissing and licking and Laila jutted her chest forward pushing as much of herself his mouth as she possible could.

"Those puppies are meant for tit fucking!" Brad said as he looked up at her from between the tits.

"What?" She replied.

"Do you know what a tit fuck is?" He asked her.

She looked down at him totally confused.

"It is when a woman takes a man's penis between her breasts and allows him to fuck her between her boobs." He replied.

There was a look of shock and then she smiled. Brad took her from her waist and began to lick the inside of her breasts. He licked and sucked the valley between her breasts for the Royal tit fuck he had intended to give her. Laila just dropped her head and enjoyed the feel of his tongue licking the tender insides of her boobs. She wondered what it would feel like to take his penis between them. When she was lubricated enough, Brad stood up and pushed her down till she was on her knees looking up at him. He then pulled down his underwear till his engorged cock sprang out just inches away from her face. It was a bit longer than average with a slight upward curve. Though it was as pale as the rest of his body the rush of blood was making it reddish and causing the veins to stand out. As a nurse Laila had seen many penises. Yet they were always viewed in a clinical context and now to watch a sexually aroused one in an erotic setting was so different.

"Take it in your mouth." Brad instructed. "Lubricate it well before you take it between your boobs." Laila was a bit hesitant at first but then she parted her mouth and took the head in. She explored the tip of his penis with her tongue and then pulled her face away. "What is it?" Brad asked.

"I have never done this!" She said her ace turning red with embarrassment.

"Brad held her head in his hands and looked down at her. "Open your mouth!" He said in a matter of fact tone. She complied and he shoved his cock as deep into her mouth as it could go. "Aaaaahhhh .... Now close it." He said and felt her lips and sticky mouth seal over it causing his cock to throb. "That feels so good!" He replied and started fucking her mouth with short strokes. Initially she was a bit non responsive but then she gripped his powerful buttocks and tightened her mouth around him. His moans told her that he loved that and she started sucking him. With all of his cock inside her throat he fucked her mouth with short strokes and she sucked him as deep into her throat as she could. Soon he withdrew his cock totally quoted with her saliva.

"Now it is ready to go between your breasts Laila." He said and brought his erect shaft between her swaying breasts. Laila quickly pressed her boobs together trapping him in between. With his erection firmly sandwiched between her boobs she dropped her head back and looked at him. He began to move his hips back and forth fucking the insides of her breasts with passion. As Laila held her breasts together for him his penis moved back and forth between them getting closer with each thrust.

"Ohhh my goodness Laila your tits are so good!" He said as he dropped his head back and fucked her tits with more and more force. "I want to cum between them ... ah yes I wanna cum all over your huge tits Laila!!!" He announced and withdrew his cock. The moment it left her boobs and came into the firm grip of his hands he started shooting semen! It was the single most powerful ejaculation he had ever had in his life and the first few spurts that were aimed at Laila's exposed boobs actually quoted her face. The rest of the cum spurts fell on her neck and soon he was oozing the remaining cum on her exposed breasts!

"Oohhh my ... that was so good Laila." He said as he looked down at her. She had a look of fascination mixed with lust and that made her look extremely fuckable!

He wanted to throw her on the table bed and fuck her senseless that moment but there were footsteps out of the door and Laila realized that the door had been closed for quite some time. Any more minutes after this would arouse suspicion so she rose to her full height and began adjusting her dress. "I have to go." She said and pulled up the cups of her bra. As Brad sat back on the table bed he looked at this brown skinned beauty adjusting her large breasts in the bra cups.

"You are such a dog!" She said smiling at him. "Look you have made me all dirty."

"You want me to lick you clean?" Brad reached out to her and pulled her to himself.

"Nooooo!" She protested but he pushed his face into her breasts and began to lick his own semen of them.

"Oh my you are such a dirty man!" Laila said as Brad licked his own cum of her tits. He then held her tightly and kissed her in the mouth allowing her to taste a mixture of his semen and saliva. She soon pushed him away and after adjusting her dress, made her way out of the room.

Soon after she was gone Brad a completely naked Brad collapsed on the bed and stared at the ceiling. "What a great titty fuck!" He thought to himself. The fact that he was naked and the door was not locked did not matter to him for he was in a state of bliss.

DAY 6

He looked out of the window at the rising sun. It was bringing another day to a war ravaged city. "It must be so boring to be the sun!" He thought to himself. "You do the same thing over and over again for a billion years." He paused and then thought, "God knows what this sun has seen over all this time. It is coming all the way from Japan, a nation subjected to atomic bomb blasts. It must have rose one day to witness over a million innocent people mostly women and children get roasted on that morning of 1945. Then on its way the same sun must have passed over Vietnam where it was reminded of the horrors of Vietnam war. How could it pass over that country and not recall the images of refugees fleeing from city to city from American bombs. How grateful the sun must have been to leave that nation behind for it would generate such negative memories. Then, the poor sun must have found itself over Afghanistan where one of the poorest populations of the world was trapped in "War on Terror." It was the same old story with refugees carrying children with third degree burns on their bodies, migrating from one village to another. Now the poor sun was over Baghdad where I am lying amidst a fresh pile of atrocities gazing up at the sun. Soon it would leave me just like it has left all these other war victims and head towards United States itself. Unsentimentalized by Fox News and Hollywood propaganda the sun would look down upon my nation with objectivity. "So you are the source of world's misery!" The sun would say, "The nation that produces only five percent of the world's resources and consumes twenty five percent! Is there not a spot you will leave on this Earth where I can pass over without any memories of human suffering???" There will be no reply and after that the sun will set ..."

"What is going in your mind?" A deep manly voice with an Arabic accent made him open his eyes. It was Abdullah, the male nurse who had earlier been assigned to take care of him. "Are you feeling OK my friend?" He asked his eyes full of sympathy.

"Where is Laila?" Brad asked.

"She did not come today." He replied.

"Is everything OK?"

"I don't know. Her side of the city has no electricity for two days now. I don't know what happened." He replied.

"Life is shit eh?" Brad said gazing at the ceiling.

"Praise be to God!"

"JEZUS!" Brad said. "I really can not figure out you guys." There was a pause as he tried to get into sitting position. "It seems like you people have gone through so much shit in life that now you are on dope! Na not dope... but a stronger narcotic like heroin or cocaine. Your religion is your cocaine. It prevents you from feeling pain doesn't it?"

"Please lie down." Abdullah said as he moved towards Brad.

"Na I am fine. You are the ones who need attention here ... I mean look at the mess you are in. your lives are miserable! You have no electricity in this scorching heat! You have no food to eat! Your children literally ROT to death in poorly funded hospitals like these, where is this GOD you believe in?"

"Please don't say things like that." Abdullah said trying to calm him down.

"Na I wanna know what this God of yours is doing! I mean if my God treated me like the shit he is treating you then I would fire him! I'd get myself a new God."

There was silence. Then Abdullah placed a warm wet cloth on his wound. "That is your problem." He replied. "Christianity was not working for you so you threw it away and got yourself the new God of Secularism. But look what your new God has done to you my friend. It has thrown you to rot in the same hospital bed as us...with no promise of hereafter."

Brad stared at him as he examined his leg. "This will get better very soon inshallah." He said and then giving him a pat on his shoulder Abdullah left.

That afternoon Brad was visited by Col. David Grant, his commanding officer. He was on a routine tour to inspect the conditions of wounded troops in Iraqi hospitals. A tall and wiry man Grant first asked the hospital staff why Brad was lying on a table and not on a bed? The doctor in explained that the hospital was full of wounded people and they did not have beds. Since the hospital was receiving a lot of supplies from US Army Medical Core, the Colonel quickly demanded that all supplies for that month should be checked. He wanted to see how the supplies were being used. The next few minutes were spent going through Audit registers and two Marines went into the store to count the remaining inventory to see if it tallied with what the paper work showed. Once satisfied with the records, Colonel David Grant congratulated the Iraqi doctor, "You and your team is doing a fine job Dr. Sameer." He said looking all around the dirty hospital. "I have been to many hospitals here that are working with us and yours is one of the best."

"Thank you Sir." Dr Sameer said without any facial expression. Colonel David Grant then pulled a chair and sat next to Brad. "Your country is proud of you Sergeant." He said. "You know that our unit has served in one of the worst combat zones in Iraq and I was asked to refer someone for congressional medal of honor. I have forwarded your name. This is a copy of my recommendation for your records." He said and handed Brad and envelope. Brad took the envelope and looked at it.

"Why thank you Sir." He replied holding the brown envelope in his hands.

"Consider it a done deal." The colonel said.

"I beg your pardon Sir?" Brad raised his head to look at the Colonel in the eye.

"I have gone through all other recommendations. None of them stand a chance against yours." The Colonel had a smile on his face now. "A few more weeks here and you will be flying to Washington DC to receive this medal. The decision has been made it is just unofficial at the moment." He replied and then stood up to leave. "If you need anything from the base please let us know. We are here for you." He put on his helmet and walked away.

Brad opened the envelope and read the letter. It was a long recommendation that described how he had been injured in a deadly ambush that killed six troops, including the squad leader and left almost the entire squad injured. It went on to describe how Sergeant Brad Wilkinson had inherited command of a totally crippled squad and fought the militants keeping them away till the last bullet in his magazine was fired. When reinforcements arrived they had found an injured and out of ammunition Brad Wilkinson lying on the pavement almost unconscious with the loss of blood. The letter ended with the final remarks of Col. David Grant saying, "It is for this act of courage that I recommend Sergeant Brad Wilkinson for the Congressional Medal of Honor for had it not been for him not a single member of the squad would have lived today."

It was a nonsensical fairy tale. Yet it did its job as it had all the elements of a classical Hollywood narrative. Good guys are white and wear uniforms. Bad guys are brown with beards and turbans. Good guys go into bad guys territory and there is a showdown. Good guys are outnumbered but have more firepower. Bad guys seem to win in the beginning due to sheer fanaticism but one lone warrior, the hero refuses to give up. Finally after a violent struggle the good guys prevail because with superior technology, the white man has the "divine right" to take lands that belong to other races! Thus, just like the classical Western, the drama on his recommendation letter also ended with the victory and triumph of the Aryan blood!

BRAVO ...let men and women of America stand up and deliver their applause! He closed his eyes in an attempt to get an afternoon nap.

DAY 7

He was lying half awake and half asleep when sweet smell filled the room. He could once again sense that familiar female presence.

"Aha so you are back!" He said without opening his eyes.

"Yes I am." She replied.

"I missed you yesterday." He said eyes still closed.

"My mother was not feeling well. I had to stay home with her." She replied.

He opened his eyes and looked at her. She was wearing a grayish figure hugging shirt and it clung to her curves nicely, enhancing the generous shape of her breasts. Over all this time it seemed as if her beauty had grown on him and every time he looked at her she seemed more desirable than before. "You live alone with your mother?" He asked. "I mean, don't you have a father ... siblings?"

"Siblings?" She asked with a questioning tone.

" Yes meaning ... brothers and sisters." He replied.

"No I don't. Its just me and my mother."

"Your father?"

"He is ... sleeping behind the hospital wall."

"What?" Brad raised his brows. "Does he work here? In this very hospital?"

She laughed. "If you were serious about me I would take you to meet him" She looked down. "For now you just want to have fun."

Her words made him look down as well. He knew he was physically attracted to her. The chemistry this woman generated was the strongest he had ever felt. Her deep brown skin and dark eyelashes had an effect that no pale woman had ever had on him. Her short dark hair and how they made her body, especially her breasts stand out made her the ultimate object of his desires. He desired her body so strongly that her presence made him feel uncomfortable at times. Yet he wondered if this attraction was anything more than savage lust. She represented not just a different culture but a different world. Life had been such a different experience for her that he was sure there was nothing common between them except animalistic attraction for each other.

As he lay on the bed analyzing his attraction for her, similar thoughts rushed through her mind. He represented the worlds most hated people, scorned and despised in almost every corner of the world. On top of that he was an invader in her country and his kind had killed more innocent people in a year than Saddam Hussein did in his three-decade rule. They had accused her nation of building weapons of mass destruction when all they were trying to build was aspirin. They had dropped bombs from the skies, which had killed and crippled so many people that there was no longer any count of dead and wounded. If Satan had a face it was this man lying in front of her. Yet, it was a nice face. The shaven head and those piercing blue eyes did something to her. Every time he looked at her she knew he was undressing her in his mind, using her as an erotic fantasy. It excited her! That day she had looked at him come out of the shower and gazed at the lean chiseled body wondering what it would feel to lay naked against it. "The woman who gets to be with him would be one lucky bitch!" She had thought to herself and then tried not to think about him like that. But she had later found herself so helpless in resisting his sexual advances that it had totally amazed her. As he had fondled her breasts and kissed her, all she had to do was say no but she couldn't. Instead she had totally surrendered to him and allowed him to have his way with her. Later on she had been very angry at herself for this "weakness" of character but the thought of being desired in such an animalistic way had its own power and she was corrupted by it.

"I do not believe in love." Brad finally said.

"Why is that?" She asked.

"I just believe in lust." He said looking at her. "I think the male desire to plant seed in a woman is that primary impulse that allows our species to exist. I don't think I can deny that.... Love is just a fucked up fairy tale! It is a myth that society has created so that the social unit of nuclear family will remain intact."

"But isn't family is beautiful thing?" She asked.

"Not at all!" He said. "Family is turning out to be a global failure. Every single divorce in the world contributes to the collapse of family. As divorce rate rises in the world we will soon see that this medieval institution of family will get eradicated from the planet. Human kind will have to practice copulation without emotions or any sense of extended commitment. Modern urban life is way too fluid to accommodate eternal love and all that fairy tale nonsense."

Laila found herself extremely disturbed by his views. She asked herself why his negative perception of commitment would be so bothersome to her as there was no chance of them getting together anyway. He was recovering and would soon head home and she would stay right in this hospital tending some other patient in his bed.

"I would still like to meet your father... if that is OK with you!" Brad said. "Does he work in the same hospital? Where is he sleeping?"

"He sleeps in that back yard." She said. "Let me finish my morning round and I will take you to him." She said and then trotted out of the room leaving him alone. He stood up, picked up some fresh clothes and walked out to the washroom. After brushing and shaving he took a brief shower and then came back into his room.

A few minutes later she was back. She took Brad out of the hospital and they walked around the building till they reached the rear part. There was a white boundary wall that surrounded the hospital and Brad and Laila walked along it till they reached a part that was broken. It seemed that long ago someone had deliberately broken the wall from that area to create an artificial entrance. They stumbled over a few left over bricks and went through this opening till they were on the other side.

It was a huge graveyard. The total number of graves there would have been over a thousand. Some of them were made of polished marble and some were of brown bricks. Most however were just mounds of earth rising from the ground. "This is where my father rests." Laila said as she took Brad through these graves. Brad now understood what she meant when she said her father is resting in the back yard of the hospital. Quietly he followed Laila over these graves making sure that he stepped on their edges and not over them. It was hard as there were so many graves that in most cases there was not enough space between them for even placing a foot. Finally they reached a grave which had a rectangular brick boundary around it. It seemed like on old grave because the grave marker bearing the name had become unreadable and cracks had appeared in the stone boundary. It was obvious that these were old cracks because over a period of time plantation had grown out of them.

"This is my father." Laila said looking down at the grave.

"I am really sorry. What happened?" He asked.

"He had lung cancer." Laila replied. "I was five years old when he died."

They stood over the grave for some time. Then Brad turned and looked at Laila. Her dark eye lashes were lowered and there was strong breeze that day which pressed her clothes against her body giving him a breathtaking view of her figure. As he looked at her he felt something inside him. It was an attraction that could no longer be classified as pure lust! It was something beyond that.

"I like coming to this place." Laila said looking around." I have been coming here since I was five. There were less graves in the beginning and I felt my father would be so lonely here. But every time I came there were new graves. Now you cant come from that hole in the wall to here without stepping on any." She then wrapped her arms right and looked at Brad.

"Was it hard for you when he left?" Brad asked. They had now turned around from the grave and started walking back to the hospital.

"I don't know." She replied. "When he died I was too young. I did not know that death was something you are supposed to feel sad about."

"Do you have any memories of him?" Brad asked. "I have very little memories but ... I have a feeling!" She said. "I can not recall any experiences but feeling I had when he was around is still in me. I do remember parts of a story that he used to tell me."

"Really?" Brad looked at her. "What was that?"

"It's a famous Arabian story. I don't remember the details but its about an evil King who ruled over an island community long ago." She told him. "Everyday he told his people how lucky they were to be living on that island. He did not want anyone to leave the island so he would tell them that they were the only humans in the world. Land on the other side of the sea was inhabited by monsters only. He would tell them such scary stories of monsters living on the other side of the sea that they would get terrified and give him money to build walls! Thus soon there were huge walls around the island and gradually the island was turning into a walled prison where people were paying money for their imprisonment." Laila looked at him now. "It was the same story I would listen to every night but now I only remember the setting. Not what happened."

They came back to the hospital, Laila got busy with her work and Brad returned to his room. He could not help but think about the story of the Island King. It was a story with a very interesting setting and very interesting characters. He only wished Laila knew how it ended but she had no memory of that.

DAY 8:

He had woken up before sunrise and went to get a shower. After getting done from the washroom he came into his room and moved the table bed to a side to make more space in the room. When the sun came up he was doing push ups! He was used to intense physical exercise and the last week had been particularly disturbing because he was unable to exercise. Now on his eighth day he did sets after sets of push ups until blood pumped his muscles and he could hear the thumping of his own hear beat.

Suddenly the door opened and Laila came in. As usual she was holding a breakfast tray in her hand. Brad rose from the floor to a standing position and she noticed that he was only wearing an underwear. His muscular, well defined body was glistening with sweat and abdominal muscles appeared and disappeared as he gasped for air. The physical train had caused his muscles to get pumped with blood and he now stood in front of her looking like an anatomy chart. "Good Morning." He said as he wiped a trickle of sweat off his forehead.

"Good Morning." She replied and placed the tray on his bed. "I can see that you are feeling better already." She said looking at his body. While she was looking at him he was studying her back, exploring every curve of her body with animalistic lust. She wore an olive green full sleeve shirt and blue denim jeans. It was conservative attire which concealed her completely but Laila had the kind of figure that was almost impossible to hide. It would stand out no matter what she would wear.

"I would really like to have you." He said.

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"Lets just close that door and pretend that you are changing my dressing." He laughed.

"You have such a dirty mind." She said.

"There is nothing dirty about sex. You are just programmed to be conservative by your medieval culture."

"You thi