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1993: Somalia Confidential

This is basically a war story. It is an account of my personal view of the well known events of '93 in the Horn of Africa, where I experienced my very first campaign and a totally unexpected sex adventure. I changed the names and slightly camouflaged some otherwise obvious facts, in order to avoid hurting personal feelings or pride. Any reference to real people of organizations is, obviously, purely coincidental.

As far as the sex scenes are concerned, I enriched them just as much as it needed to make the story interesting and readable.

The story begins just after my meeting with my wife-to-be Karin, a short (and hot!) stay at her place and my depart from A'dam to reach the Regiment before actual deployment...


The Hercules C-130 that took us to Mogadishu was loaded with supplies of any sorts, so we had to find a spot amongst the various goods.

I couldn't believe it: my first real operation abroad!

Operation "Restore Hope" had started in December, and in the beginning everything looked like being going well. Then, when our American friends finally realized they bet on the wrong horse, the shit had reached the fan.

After the first incidents between the Pakistani and the Aideed crowd, and the first UN soldiers killed, the Head of the Mission felt betrayed by his former buddy and declared him the worst enemy of the UN. Few days later, there had been the infamous episode of "Blackhawk Dawn", and the Americans had started playing hard inside the city.

We had the entire Folgore Parachutist Brigade deployed there, responsible for the Northern part of Mogadishu (including our own Embassy, which hosted the Bde HQ) and the whole Northern Sector along the Strada Imperiale and up to the Ethiopian border. It was probably the worst part of the Area of Responsibility (AOR), since it included both half of the main city and the "frontline" to the part of Somalia that was not under UN protectorate and completely under warlords' control. The 176th Para that we were going to substitute in a month was responsible of the northernmost part, inland and far from Mogadishu, covering most of the territory and the entire border. It was quite a challenge.

The flight was soft... I discovered that the tetra packs of wine, collected in pallets for air transportation, made a wonderful mattress, and used it.

Unfortunately, we had a stopover in Luxor, Egypt, and got a small malfunction at the gear, so we stayed there for the night... As it often happens, the Air Force crew just left for a three-star hotel, and we Army guys mounted the guard to our own weapons and equipment. Never heard of captains mounting the guard? I did.

It wasn't funny: fifty degrees centigrade and ninety percent humidity, and those poor Egyptian Special Police mounting the guard to us in their black uniforms... Uff!

Eventually we left Luxor and reached Mogadishu airport, with its interesting and colorful collection of multinational troops and its comfortable tent camp for troops in transit... Beautiful.

The night was especially characteristic, with special fireworks provided by the Americans, who were still bombing Mogadishu South (Pakistani Sector, where the bad guys of Aideed were hiding) with gunship AC 130s Spectre. It was a good anticipation of what was going to be.

We flew to Belet Weyne by G222, a two-engine tactical airplane, whose pilot chose to fly tactical, meaning very low, fast and changing constantly altitude and direction to avoid AA. I normally don't suffer planes, but this time I was very close to puke.

We landed in the airstrip and a parachutist patrol escorted us to the camp... Which proved to be a sad hole in the sand, with a few pneumatic tents inside earthworks and hasty field fortifications, just outside the town? If I ever thought of the idea of an outpost, this was it. A small fort with a tricolor flag on top.

The town was a typical African one, with a small colonial age brick houses center and endless suburbs built with fetch, plastic bags and aluminum plates, with rubber tiers everywhere. Actually, tiers and plastic bags were the only real evidence of late 20th Century civilization.

The paras were there just since a few weeks; they came from the southern stronghold of Bulo Burti after the withdrawal of the Canadian contingents. Their accommodation was hasty at best (no showers yet, just field toilets and lavatory), and they were sleeping in sleeping bags on the ground.

Before leaving, the Canucks told the children of the area to greet us saying Mafia with a big smile, because that was the friendly way to say hallo in our language... How kind of them.

As it has always been in our history, Logistics was shit. Our contingent deployed with our old field equipment, Cold War vintage, and the canvas field beds were crumpling and disintegrating in the hot dry weather, so our men were basically sleeping on the ground... Until somebody managed to trade a container of wine for US field beds in synthetic tissue.

Well, it was so bad it could only get better.

We started shadowing our pairs, who were getting ready to leave the theatre as soon as possible (paras don't like to get stuck somewhere: they prefer to open a new front and then leave the problem to us). Their S2 was a friendly giant with a quite disillusioned view of the situation.

"Stop thinking as a European," he told me the first evening, sitting on the earthwork and looking at the mass of children, crowding at the barbed wire where Savarese was giving them the leftovers of our dinner, "It is misleading. If you really want to understand what is happening here, you need to understand these people way of thinking, which is based on values and priorities completely different from ours. For them, we are as alien as Martians, they only pretend to understand our arguments because we have better guns than theirs, and they do understand strength."

"But we are here to save lives," I countered, "We distribute food, we care for their children. This must be understandable."

"It's not. We start from the wrong assumption that the value of life is universal, and that they should be grateful for us saving their children, for example. But they don't really understand why we do that. They think it's stupid of us: we should rather kill all warlords and establish our rule, so that they could live in peace under our protection and mastership. That's what a real warrior should do according to them, and that's what they expect we should do."

"You mean they don't keep life in such consideration as we do?"

"Bingo. Life itself is not such a universal value, as we believe it is. Here, for example, life has little or no value at all. I am not talking of somebody else's life, I mean that here, they don't keep in such a high regard their own life. If you think of it, it makes sense: do they live a nice life here? Most of them I mean, not the few privileged ones... They do care for themselves. But all the poor people living in those huts of mud and waste bags, never washing themselves nor having any greater fun in life than throwing stones at stray dogs or chewing chat: they do not care much if they die tomorrow. That's why so many of them are so keen to fight each other for no real reason: they have fun, and if they die, well, that's a dignified way to die, far better than TBC or AIDS, and I can't blame them... Can you?"

I was dumbfounded: "I never thought of it."

"Nobody does in Europe or in America. But this is fundamental to start understanding what the hell is happening here. You will see..."

And saw I did, with time.

The Paras run a major operation while we were shadowing them, before our Regiment arrived. I was a big thing, involving an heliborne deployment into a border area on the border with Ethiopia, were supporters of late Somali leader Siad Barre were still holding their ground with the support of Ethiopian Authorities.

It was very interesting. We fell on this village called Balen Balle at dawn with a number of heavy choppers, CH47s, escorted by attack helos A129 Mongoose, and seized the military compound before any resistance could be put on. Regiment Commander was already talking with the local warlord when our armored cavalry squadron arrived with half a dozen of Centauro 105 mm gun wheeled tanks and a couple of motorized Nigerian coys. All in all, the warlord enthusiastically agreed to the idea of immediately destroying all of his heavy gear, which included ten soviet-vintage tanks and a number of BTRs and Tecknikas. Funny how warlords become cooperative at the sight of armored vehicles and attack helicopters...

Our sappers were fast, and the disposal of all the heavy gear, light weapons, mines and ammunition was quite spectacular. The only small stain on the mission was my GPS: even if our maps were more or less white (uncharted area), it clearly showed we were inside Ethiopia...

I mentioned it to the Commander, and he just pointed out flatly: "I don't care what the damned thing says: we are in Somalia, and that's an order. Understood?"

I was young and naïve at the time...

Our colleagues from 12th Bersaglieri and from 76th Mech arrived, and soon enough the Paras left, so we were fully in charge. And I was fully responsible for military intelligence in Northern Somalia.

Little I knew that this status would trigger one of the most funny (and nice) episodes of my otherwise not-so-jolly African experience.

We had taken over full responsibility of our Area of Responsibility (AOR, the whole region under the control of our Regiment) since a couple of days only, and I was pretty busy. The whole area was about 20% of the whole UN-controlled part of Somalia, included four main towns, the border to Ethiopia, the only permanent river and the only paved road of the country, about 40 tribes belonging to five of the most important clans (including the Aideed's Habr Gadir, the bitter enemies of UNOSOM), and six UN compounds, three of which in Belet Weyne. There were us, with the Regiment HQ and the recce squadron, there was the German contingent (logistics only, plus own security), and a Nigerian battalion under our Tactical Control; our own battalion with our Logistic Base was in Bulo Burti, another coy-level garrison was in Gialalaxi, and our Field Hospital with another coy-level garrison was in Balad. All of that was under our operational control, and all intelligence sources were coming to me. Then, I was to report to the Brigade HQ in Mogadishu, which in turn reported to the Multinational Force HQ.

I was busy.

A further complication was given by the fact that I was also the only decent English speaker of our compound, meaning I was the drafter of all documents in English, and the interpreter for any contact with the local UN administrator, with the subordinate Nigerian battalion and with the local Non Governmental Organizations... Yes, those volunteer, disaster-relief private bodies that provide help where nobody else was caring, or those vulture associations making business out of human sufferings, depending where your feelings about them stand.

Well, there was a bunch of these NGOs in Belet Weyne, mostly US and Canadians, and it was the S5 task to liaise with them. Usually they were minding their own business, employed local gunmen to protect their well-fortified compounds downtown, and didn't like us very much. You know, apart from the local bodyguards, NGO people usually tend to see the military as the origin of the problem and not as part of the solution, and no matter weather "military" are warlord bands or UN forces. NGO people usually are either hardcore mercenaries with little taste for western Authority representatives, or left-wing idealists and pacifists with an obvious distaste for their own countries military. Of course, all these bad feelings evaporated at the first sign of danger, in which case they all really loved us.

The usual, old story that Rudyard Kipling told many, many years ago...

But I was telling about my own experience, right?

It was a Sunday morning, and I was preparing to leave the camp with my jeep to liaise with local police, meet the local UN coordinator, check the behavior of our soldiers at the checkpoints and, in general, monitor the situation. My driver and my two escort boys were ready; I was wearing my Kevlar helmet and my flack jacket and cursing the heat, when the NCO on duty at the gate came for me, saying there was somebody at the main gate. Somebody speaking English and... And somebody who was a she.

You know, at the time we had no girls in our Army, the locals were taboo (basically due to AIDS hazard, but also to their smell, poor girls), and even our friends and allies were weary to send women so far away.

I drove to the gate and got quite a surprise.

It was a girl all right. A white girl (sorry, an expatriate, a member of the International Community, or whatever else is the politically correct way to put it at the time you read; and her skin was Caucasian-light). I thought the closest white girl was at least a couple of thousands clicks away, since also NGOs female tends to be quite adult (to put it mildly), but there she was, with a funny peas-green jeep parked next to our gate.

Our sentries at the gate were almost fainting looking at her.

Blonde, young (20? 25?), not so tall. Tanned, but not enough to show a long permanence in Africa. Pretty face, slim body, loving smile, pity for a quite oversized bum, but nice tits under a simple Sahara shirt.

"Hi. What can we do for you, miss...?"

Her smile widened hearing me speaking English. Showing me an ID, she said: "Hi. My name is Linda Howland, and I work for the Worldwide Health Association, the NGO dealing with premature children."

Wow. American accent, but very clean. Midwest, maybe Colorado?

"'Morning, Miss Howland. I'm Captain Roberto Serra. I am the officer in charge to deal with NGOs, so you may tell me directly..."

"Oh, great!" another lovely smile, "Listen, there are a few things I wanted to ask you, since now you guys are in charge of security and freedom of movement. Is there any fresher spot we can talk?"

I frowned, since the only fresh spot in the camp at the time was the fridge container.

"...Or, maybe, you could come to our residence to talk, and we could have a cold drink there?"

Residence? Cold drink? These things belonged to another world for me... It was hard to refuse, so I didn't.

"Well, if it's not something urgent, Miss Howland, maybe I could come to your compound this evening. Would that be fine with you?"

"Oh, it would be fantastic. I will be there from lunch on. Do you know where it is?"

"Of course."

"Well. See you then!"

I completed my daily tour downtown and later to the German and Nigerian bases, spoke to their S2's, reported to the Regiment Commander, and finally drove into the town to the WHA compound.

It was a typical Somali house, one-floor with a small courtyard surrounded by a square wall taller than the house itself, completed with barbed wire and broken glasses. The only entrance was a thick iron door framed by a larger iron gate, with no possibility to watch inside.

The thug at the gate wanted my pistol, got told off and went for orders, leaving me out. He came back a few minutes later with a tall Caucasian woman in her late forties, who had looked like to be in charge there.

"I'm Carolyn Wedger, Chief station here. May I ask you...?"

"Good evening ma'm. Captain Serra, I'm the CIMIC Officer of UNOSOM Forces in Belet Wayne. Miss Howland asked me to come for some information exchange."

"Oh! Sure, she told me. I didn't expect you to be so young ..."

I smiled: "Pure appearance, Ms Wedger. Can you explain your security guy that no UNOSOM member is to be disarmed by anybody within the UN Area of Operation?"

"Uh? Oh, sure. Please, come in. May I offer you a drink?"

Now, the only legal thing that was clear in Somalia at the time was that any sort of alcohol outside Army compounds was strictly forbidden, so I was not surprised to find the drink was a nicely cool peach tea, which was served in a quite comfortable veranda opened on the cultivated courtyard.

We sat in two wooden couches facing each other and a local girl served us our teas on the small table in between.

Carolyn was very tanned by the time spent in Africa, with a worn out face and sparkling blue eyes, but a well shaped tall and slim body that looked to be in full shape for her age. She was a doctor, like almost all the components of the WHA team in Belet Wayne: six women, plus a nurse and Lisa, who was kind of a secretary and just arrived to replenish a previous vacancy. Contacting us was Lisa's idea, but Carolyn had nothing against it: actually, it made sense to have some sort of coordination on security matters with the local UNOSOM Forces.

I was on the point to reply that we had already organized a weekly bulletin for all IC members in town, when Lisa showed up.

It was quite an entry. She wore an open shirt and shorts in sand color, which made no ambiguity about her having quite nice legs, as well as a rich bosom.

She sat next to Carolyn, and graciously crossed her smooth legs with a nice smile to me.

"Sorry for being so late," she said, "I was just taking a shower."

'It doesn't matter," I said, "I just got introduced with your structure and job. You mentioned an information exchange on security matters, right?"

Carolyn sobbed and suddenly stood: "I think I will leave this to the two of you, since it is out of my expertise field. I believe Lisa will take good care of this with you, Captain... Serra."

She offered her hand through the table and left quickly, leaving me alone with her lovely junior colleague.

Lisa smiled with all her teeth. With Carolyn quick exit, I suddenly realized the warm air was suddenly permeated with the young girl perfume. It was weeks since I last inspired perfume...

"Hi Bob," she purred, moving her hair with a hand, "Do you like our residence?"

I couldn't believe it: the girl was flirting!

"It's far better than ours, I must say." I sipped my tea, and then I tried to look businesslike: "So, Miss Howland, you wanted to exchange information..."

"Oh, please, call me Lisa. We are totally informal here in our community."

"Okay Lisa. Now, if you need to have a regular update on security issues..."

"Yes, please! You know, we are continuously around, not only in Belet Weyne, but also in all the villages throughout the whole Mudugh region, and we have no idea about the situation with these bands of Marehan around... I mean, it would be really nice to have a short briefing from you guys before leaving for our tours: what if we go straight into an operation of yours, or into a newly mined area?"

It was so sensible it didn't sound true. It was exactly what I tried to explain these NGOs since I first met them. The problem was that usually they simply feared that just dealing with us could hamper their relationship with the natives and put them in danger.

I tried to hold a weekly meeting with all of the NGOs which were interested in receiving a security bulletin, but most of them were not attending it, and actually WHA did not either. Worse of that, the ones who attended, were ready to take the bulletin but absolutely refused to share information about what they knew or saw around. They behaved like we were an invasion army and they had to keep neutral, instead accepting we were an UN-mandated Peacekeeping Force trying to settle a pretty messy situation.

"Lisa, you just have to come to the meetings I organize weekly. I think it is for the best, to exchange information all together, and for everybody to listen."
"Oh yeah, sure... I heard of those meetings, it's how I got the idea to contact you. I wasn't at the last one because on Friday night we usually are in the village of Kfir Bayoum. Listen, why you don't simply have the meeting fixed here in our residence every week? We have the largest compound and a good supply of fresh drinks, while the other NGOs are not so happy to host meetings. What about holding a fixed, weekly meeting each Saturday evening?"

It vas very convenient indeed. It was true; I had more than one problem holding those meeting, because nobody was willing to host it, and even less us...

I smiled: "Does Carolyn agree with that? I understand she is in charge here."

Lisa winkled: "Of course she does... You know, getting all those attractive young men into the residence..."

No. I must have misunderstood. My English had to be not as good as I believed. She couldn't mean that.

Lisa saw my puzzlement and hit my knee with a hand: "Come on, you are a soldier! Do not play shy with me... We are seven grown up women in the middle of Africa. We have our needing... And my colleagues are all doctors, so are well aware about all the hazards of illnesses and infections amongst locals... Don't look at me like that, it's not racism, is personal safety to avoid getting intimate with natives, however attractive and willing they might be... So, there is only the expatriate community to look at."

It was so easy... I thought these things happened only in dirty movies or bad novels. Should they happen in reality, they only involved desperate, ugly women. And there I was, with this lovely girl speaking openly about sexual desires and meeting men in Africa...

"Okay Lisa, point taken. Spread the news, Saturday night at your residence, nineteen hundred hours."

Lisa smiled all her satisfaction: "Very good! You will see there will be also some snack for everybody: it does gonna be a nice break in your routine..."

I believed that.

I rose to leave and Lisa followed quickly, slipping an arm under mine: "And you know... I am an employee, not an idealist. When it comes to boys, I have no prejudices against soldiers!"

It wasn't an easy week.

Early in June we got our own "Blackhawk Down": a supply convoy of our regiment was crossing Mogadishu from the New Harbor to take the Strada Imperiale and reach our AOR, when it was caught into the battle. The Paras held a major sweep in the Habr Gadir quarter, a platoon got ambushed and the streets suddenly filled up with screaming women and children, more or less unaware they were covering up gunmen and warlords' bands working out a major encirclement of our forces.

Our platoon called for reinforcements and withdrew to a checkpoint called "Pasta", where they met with some extra forces, including a couple of tanks, and made their stand. Reinforcements were pushing to reach them, but were hampered by the apparently unarmed crowd, and our airborne gunships – contrary to the American ones – were armed only with missiles and rockets, not with chain guns, so were useful only for recce or antitank missions.

Gunmen and snipers hidden in the crowd started shooting our boys dead, and the Paras could not shoot back because they would have taken women and children in the crossfire. The HQ was seeking for instruction from the High Command back at home, and the radio waves were filled with messages. Artillery was placed in position, helicopters were flying low over the houses, and mechanized reinforcements were moving – or trying to move - towards the hotspot.

Finally, the local tactical commander took his decision, after his XO got killed next to him, and ordered to open fire.

It was a massacre, the worst up to that moment. The heavy machineguns of tanks and armored vehicles opened up against the crowd, shooting high to try to spare at least the children, and opened the way.

The Attack Helicopters shot their rockets against anything could look like an antitank weapon, and the tanks moved forward, careless about what their tracks were chewing on. The soldiers followed, carrying wounded and dead comrades on the mechanized vehicles, and the whole force made its way to safety in what amounted to our first real combat since World War two.

We lost six men, plus a dozen wounded and a burned vehicle. Never got a clue about precise numbers, but the count of killed Somalis ranges in hundreds, most of them innocent or unaware they were shielding terrorists.

That bloodshed actually changed our Army forever. That day we stopped being the good chaps who were just following the American dangerous guys with a friendly smile, offering spaghetti and saying ciao to the children.

From that day, our soldiers became bitter, disillusioned fighters, eager to learn how to fight back and ready to do the real job on the field.

Back in Belet Weyne, we followed the battle at the radio. Our only reserve coy, the one from the 76th Mech that used to be mine, reverted to the tactical command of the Brigade HQ and scrambled to their APCs, roaring south along the Strada Imperiale towards Mogadishu, ready to join the fight.

Our convoy managed to extricate itself from the mess, and then to reach first the logistic base in Balad, and then our compound in Jawar, were it stopped.

The humanitarian mission under UN mandate ended that day.

We were at war.

No isolated vehicles out of Belet Wayne any more. No berets, only helmets and flak jackets. Reinforced patrols. Guards doubled at each compound. No leaves home. No telephone calls home.

We were isolated.

The whole supply line from Mogadishu harbor had been cut by the loss of Checkpoint "Pasta", and even food had to be rationed. Luckily, that last convoy had come across. Basically, now we were connected only by air, and this was not good at all: our Regiment, the Brigade reserve, the Logistic base and the Field Hospital were North of the gap, the other two Regiments, the Brigade HQ and the Seaport of Debarkation were South of it. And the gap was represented by the portion of the city that was controlled by the same Habr Gadirs of Mr. Aideed who were already fighting the Americans in the Pakistani sector of Mogadishu. It was not going to be a quick affair to reopen the road through the city...

The really bad thing was to be cut off from the radiotelephone contact to Europe. I had no way to contact Karin any more.

I was thinking of her every night, until sleep managed to overwhelm me in my tent. She was alone, back in Amsterdam, and waiting for me... I sent her a letter through the German military mail system, explaining her why she wasn't getting phone calls anymore. I could imagine how she felt... Or how my family felt for that's sake. Everybody in Europe knew of the battle, but nobody knew of the aftermath... Not as far the personal fate of each and all of us, north of the gap, was concerned. We were well enough, but they didn't know. The Army would eventually warn my parents that everything was fine with me, but no one would care to inform poor Karin.

Maybe they got worried back in Europe (in America they were already worried), but NGOs in Belet Wayne freaked out completely.

Suddenly, we became their best friends. They were calling us by radio every day, some came to visit the camp, and almost all of them came to the WHA residence for the first Security meeting that Saturday.

I arrived half an hour earlier in order to prepare the briefing, and this time Lisa received me at the gate to avoid problems with their thug.

She was in great shape, even if this time she wore long trousers. Her dark blond hair was bond into a ponytail, and her skin was quickly tanning at the African sun, making her eyes spark nicely when she was smiling.

"Hi Bob," she greeted me, "Come in. It's nice to see you again."

I was weary after the heavy week we just got: my old coy was deployed on the frontline in the Northern suburbs of Mogadishu, ready to strike south to re-establish ground links with the Brigade HQ, and we were all tense waiting for the order to act. In Belet Weyne, we were suffering of the typical frustration of the units that are far from the Centre of Gravity of the action. Lisa's flirting attitude was like jumping in cold water after a sauna: startling and refreshing.

She helped preparing the table and chairs; we set up together the map on the board and carried in drinks and snacks from the kitchen. Apparently, there was nobody else around.

Once ready, we sat alone in the briefing room, sipping one drink and chatting. Lisa told me just a few things about herself: she was 23, came from New York, and was preparing a Master in International Politics; she joined WHA to earn field experience in International Humanitarian Relief.

Then she wanted to know about me. Easy enough: where I was from, my family, why I was in the Army, what exactly my job was (I didn't go into details here), how I felt about Somalia, what was going to happen after the recent bad developments in Mogadishu, and so on.

All the time we were talking, she was getting closer and her flirting was escalating. Her shirt had opened a little more, showing quite a generous portion of her firm breasts, and her perfume was really intoxicating.

It would take just a short move to put an arm around her shoulders, and I was feeling quite confident she would not pull back if I did. Her eyes were straight into mine, and her lips were slightly trembling while she was listening to my bubbling.

She looked so ready. I was sure, if I kissed her, she would give in at once.

It took all my self-control to resist. I was hating myself: never in my life I got under such a determined assault by such an attractive lady, and it happened just months after I committed my hart and soul to another girl!

Karin, where are you...

I resisted. Barely.

Also because there was not much time left...

Carolyn and the other components of WHA arrived later, more or less together with all the other NGO representatives.

The meeting lasted long. I had quite much to say, and they had quite a lot to ask. World Food Program had problems at guarding their own depot: were his rented gunmen reliable? Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent needed to provide help in the far North, were there new mines on the tracks? International Red Cross (something different from the other one) had a major convoy blocked in Mogadishu: any hope to have it escorted home? The bitch from "Save the Children" (a not-so-bad thirty-something Swede), who usually looked at us as if we were scum responsible of all sufferings in the world, suddenly wanted us to periodically check her compound and escort her supply convoys.

I provided them all with a frequency to contact us in case of emergency, and with an updated map of mine threat, warning everybody about the risks of roaming around in the bush land without telling us in advance.

Eventually, we ended the meeting with easier talks and sipping our snacks and drinks. Lisa put on some music, and suddenly the atmosphere relaxed.

Contrary to the military, the NGO world was quite gender-even: there were barely more men than women, since a few NGOs like WHA were female-only, balancing the male predominance in most of the others. To my surprise, Carolyn asked me to dance with her.

I am a terrible dancer: I am music-blind. I dance with my eyes, devising the rhythm from other people movements. Plus, Carolyn was taller than me of the whole head, and we were an ugly couple. But in a couple of minutes a lot of people were dancing around us, and I felt a bit more relaxed.

From somewhere, a few beers showed up too, and the party took off.

NGOs world in Belet Weyne was mostly Anglo-Saxon, due to the previous presence of Canadian troops and to the early arrival of UN aid, and English was the only language used. Soon, I was in the midst of a happening international party.

With a knowing smile, Carolyn handed me over to Lisa, and almost immediately the girl started closing up on me more and more.

It was tough.

I managed to escape around ten at night, with the excuse that I couldn't have my soldiers wait too long.

Colonel Scaranzi, the Regiment Commander, questioned me with his eyes when I finally showed up at our camp, but said nothing.

I went straight to the comms tent and I called the Brigade G2, my Intelligence direct superior, on the crypto channel.

"Listen," I said when I finished reporting the whole story, "I can't swallow it. It's true I've lost a few kilos and got a nice tan since we arrived, but I don't believe I turned into a Latin lover the moment I crossed the Line. I never got girls falling into my arms this way, and I don't think it will start now. So, what the hell is wrong with this chick?"

"Hmmm..." the Major on the other side mumbled a second, "WHA, you said, right? OK, I'll make a double check and call back tomorrow. 'Night, Roberto."

"'Night, sir."

The day after, I got an early call from Mogadishu. I couldn't wait.

"So, it's very easy. I'd say it was obvious. You are a relatively fresh S2, and just attended a couple of NATO courses, right?"

"That's correct."

"Besides, you are unmarried, and the only English-speaker in the Regiment."


"So, this is it: WHA is a cover-up for a well-known Intelligence agency when operating within NGOs world. They must have a file on you, and since you are the most reliable and easily accessible source of ours in Belet Weyne, they got you a girlfriend."

I was dumbfounded.

"But... But..." I stammered, "What the hell am I supposed to do with her?"

I could almost see the grin on the Major's face: "Son, I would like to have your problem myself. You say the chick is pretty; well, be happy and have fun!"

"I just got engaged before leaving!" I almost cried.

"Did you? Well, even their famous files can't be always updated, I suppose... Your girlfriend will be patriotic enough to understand."

"Sir, she is Dutch."

"Shit. And maybe she is blonde, blue-eyed and long-legged, right?"

"That's her."

"My boy. You are in such deep shit. I promise I will take charge of both your troubles if you take any one of mine... Deal?"

I sobbed: "Got it, sir. I'll do my duty..."

"That's a good boy. Good luck, Roberto. And get me posted: I love kinky stories..."

I took a long tour that day: instead of touring inside the town, we drove straight west, past the airstrip and then deeply into the bush land, more and more away from the river, where the scrubs become smaller and drier, and the red sand gets more and more red.

I had my small team with me: four Parachute Carabinieri from the 1st "Tuscania" Regiment, plus my intelligence aid, corporal Bianchi, and Mohammed, my interpreter. We had two jeeps, with an Apilas antitank missile in each, long-range radios and GPS to track our position on the almost white maps.

What does it mean white maps? Believe it or not, it means the maps were white, unfinished. Nobody ever cartographed the area, and only rivers and main trails were reported: the UTM grid was superimposed on almost completely blank papers.

It took many hours to reach the only village in the wilderness. They had only one radio, and we were the first UN people to reach them since the beginning of the crisis. Well, it was no problems: untouched by the war, the village was pretty much better than any other we met before, by local standards.

We went on further west, crossing into the Area of Responsibility of the French Brigade, and after quite a few more miles we met a Foreign Legion patrol, pretty similar to our one.

We exchanged information, shared a quick meal by exchanging MREs, and parted again.

It was almost dusk when we made it back to the camp, all filthy with sand, dust and sweat. I quickly reported to the Commander while the others were unloading the weapons and preparing for dinner, and then while I was going to reach them at the field canteen, an orderly from the duty officer reached me.

"Sir," he told me, "A girl from one of the NGOs downtown came twice looking for you. The last time about an hour ago, and she looked quite agitated... Couldn't get what she wanted; only got your name and, "presto, presto". Duty officer ordered to report to you whenever you're back."

Damn. "An hour ago, you say?"

"Yessir. About."

Too late to assemble a new party. I rushed to my patrol, stopped them from going to dinner, had them jump back into the jeeps and rolled out of the camp and into the town.

You never know what could have happened to the bunch of women in the compound...

The residence looked OK.

When I rang the gate bell, my friend the bodyguard came quite fast, but looked unconcerned.

I asked for Carolyn and he shook his head: "Out."

"Miss Lisa?"


"Call her. Please."

He closed the gate and went. The iron door reopened a minute later, and there Lisa was, in her sand African shirt and a long skirt of the same color, all fresh and jolly, her hair loosened on the shoulders: "Bob! How nice to see you... Come in."

I blushed, but luckily it was not visible in the light and under my tanned, dirty face. The little tease just wanted to see me, and I scrambled out with my whole party like to go and save the princess from the dragoon...

"Lisa, it's everything OK?"

"Yes of course. Why?"

OK. I told my guys to go back to the camp and only my aid to come and pick me back in two hours, or whenever I called by radio. They went, smiling their acknowledgement.

The gate clanged behind me, and we walked to the veranda, Lisa slipping an arm under mine.

"Oh, I'm so happy you came, Bob..." she purred, "Your soldiers told me something I could not understand, down at your camp... They said you gone, and I got worried."

"I was on patrol to the west, Lisa..."

"Oh, really? Where?"

I mentioned the name of the village and she enlightened: "Really? Have you been over there? Oh, we planned to be there many times, but never dared to. It's so far away, and the roads are so bad... What did you find there?"

We sat on the couches on the veranda, facing each other, and I noticed her shirt opened up quite a bit since I arrived. Which didn't harm at all.

I bubbled a bit about the stupid village, and she drank all my words.

Then she smiled: "I am a lousy host. Can I offer you something? A cola? Or maybe... A beer?"

"A beer?"

"Yes, you know... We do have a little hidden stock for ourselves and the friends..."

Listen... "A beer would be fine, thanks..."

She raised and went to the fridge, still chatting: "Carolyn went to Moga today, together with Paula and Megan. Then, at midday, we got a call from the Chinese Canal, and both Sue Ann and Helen had to go with the other car... So I stayed alone to see for the residence with the two bodyguards which were left."

Lisa winked, raising the beers and bending to put them on the table in such a way I got a good overlook to her perfect bosom: "I am not so comfortable, staying alone with those two guys, so I tried to find you."

She sat back, only this time beside me instead in front: "Oh, I am so happy you came. I can't tell Carolyn I don't like to be here alone; she would laugh at me... It's easy for her; they don't look at her like they look at me!"

She was really close by now, her hips and thigh pressed against mine and her sweet perfumed breath swoop around my face.

Time to be gallant: "You're not their type anyway, Lisa. Somalis like tall and skinny ladies, just like Carolyn actually. You are too... Ahem... Too rich for them, as far as I can say."

Lisa smiled and pulled out her chest proudly... I noticed another button had gone, and by now I could see she wore no bra underneath.

"Hmmm... Don't you like Somali girls? I think they are beautiful!"
"Too skinny," I lied, "And far too tall for me."

This made Lisa laugh. She wasn't taller than me: "True. Everybody here is so tall! We are no match for them, are we?"

She really squeezed herself against me now. A clear invitation to put an arm around her shoulders, which I promptly did... I was a little embarrassed by the fact I didn't get a shower after my recce.

Lisa accepted the embrace, and laid her head on my chest.

It was so obvious, and I felt so stupid.

I know what you are thinking. You are like the Major down in Mogadishu. But I am not your standard Latin lover type. Why people always smile when I say I am a faithful boy?

I've always been, and I believe I will always be. If I commit my feelings and heart, just like with my oath to the flag, I take the commitment seriously. I would loose my own self-respect if I betrayed my lover's trust, even if she never realize. It's not cowardy by me: it's consistency.

That's why I felt stupid.

I wanted to stay true to Karin, but I had to see Lisa's game too, it was my duty.

So, I quickly reached an arrangement with my conscience, and decided that whatever was going to be, it was not going to be a secret for Karin. Hell, she knew about the chick already, it was no fault of mine if we were cut off now. I would tell her, and she would understand... Hopefully, she would.

I held Lisa tight, and she reeled in my embrace.

"You smell of male," she said.

"I am sorry," I stammered, "No time for a shower when I came back..."

"Don't be silly," she laughed: "I mean it. I don't like perfumed wimps... I like to feel a real man next to me."

Maybe Lisa was a spy, but for sure she was a well trained one, at least as far as her seduction skills were concerned: the girl knew how to talk to a man.

I caressed her hair, and then I kissed her on the head.

She moaned, shivered and then raised her eyes on mine, smiling her invitation.

I kissed her on the mouth.

Lisa quickly offered me her tongue to play with, pressing her lips on mine and moving her warm body against mine.

I left her a second to say: "We have only a couple of hours."

"We will make them do," she smiled, pulling me back to her mouth.

Our kiss got wilder, and a hand of mine went to her breasts, pulling her shirt open until my fingers felt the hardness of an erected nipple.

"Hmmm..." she moaned, as I sipped the pinkish fleshy mound between my lips.

I felt her hand caressing my head while I started suckling her hard point; feeling encouraged, I started probing with one hand between the folds of her skirt. I found the buttons, and I undid enough of them to slip under the hem, feeling the smoothness of her thighs under my hardened fingers.

The girl's legs opened while my hand went up, sliding under the skirt and deep between her warm thighs. I was licking her nipple, when my right hand reached her crotch, and my fingertips found a moist, crispy bush.

"Ohmm..." she panted, "Yesss..."

Lisa wasn't wearing any underwear!

I thought these tings were happening only in B-rated movies, but it was actually happening to me... And I wasn't going to complain.

My middle finger quickly found her moist lips: by lightly pressing against them, slipped inside her hot slit, making her wince.

"Oohhh, yes... Yesss..."

This time her moan was louder.

Lisa's slit was hot and slippery; I quickly slid in a second finger, starting to move slowly inside her, while my thumb kept moving amongst her thick pubic hair.

Her moans started accelerating to the rhythm of my fingering, and I started tuning my suckling to her moans, causing them to get louder in turn.

Soon, I was masturbating her towards an orgasm directly there, on the couch over the veranda.

I wondered weather the thug at the gate could hear us, but in the end I didn't care much; neither of him nor of Lisa's respectability. The fucker could jerk off at the sound of her climax, for all I cared...

Her nipple was growing harder and thicker in my mouth while Lisa's hand pulled me harder against her breast, while her hard breathing was accelerating towards a continuous growl, and my right hand, hidden under her skirt, kept digging inside her womanhood, deeper and faster.

"Oh... Oh... Oh... Oh my God... Oh my God... Yes... Yes... Yeaaaaahhhhhh!!!" Lisa suddenly convulsed under my fingerfuck, arched and screamed out in ecstasy.

I felt her whole body stiffening and heating up in exertion, and my fingers inside her steaming pussy got drenched in her love juice.

I kept diving into her all along her orgasm, prolonging it as long as I could, until I felt her collapsing under my assault, and I slowed down my action between her legs to a standstill, while my wild suckling at her breast downsized to a delicate, intimate kiss.

Lisa sobbed, and pulled me harder at her, before letting go completely.

I let her rest a few seconds, and then I reached for her mouth to kiss her.

Her lips were cold, the best sign she did actually reach the "small death".

I removed my arm from under her skirt and held her tight, kissing her mouth deep and slow, and soon I felt her arms holding me back, strength coming back in her limbs while we kissed open-mouth with growing enthusiasm.

I ate her mouth for what I felt was hours, and then I let go of her.

"Whew!" she panted, smiling while re-opening her eyes, "That was something..."

Lisa was quite a sight: she was lying on the couch, her shirt opened on her naked, pert tits, her skirt was unfolded around her wide open, bare legs; her pussy was still hidden under the little linen still covering her waist and groin, but the inner sides of her naked thighs were unmistakingly wet.

My cock was exploding in my camouflaged trousers.

Without taking my eyes from hers, I started unzipping my fly. When my fully erected cock emerged from the desert-patterned, dirty pants, Lisa lowered her look on it and smiled contentedly.

She raised herself on the couch to a sitting position, with her bare breasts hanging free in front of her, opened her knees to allow me to close up, and grabbed my raging erection in her smooth hand.

"Hmmm..." she moaned happily, "At last!"

While she jerked me, I caressed her head, moving my fingers under her long, blond hair, pulling her face towards my groin.

Lisa inspired deeply, moved her tongue along my shaft, caressed my hairy, dark and swollen balls, and finally opened her lips and swallowed my engorged cockhead.

"Oohhh..." I gasped, feeling the warmth of her mouth all around my manhood.

Lisa was good at giving head, almost as good as Alessia. She started pumping up with her right hand, while sucking and blowing strong with her young throat; meanwhile, her left hand was caressing my butt, hip and balls alternately.

I was caressing her cute, blond head, enjoying the blowjob and feeling all my body relaxing and tensing at one time under her experienced oral ministrations.

Then, after a while, I felt like regaining the initiative: I pulled her strongly by the ears, thrusting all the way down her throat.

Lisa gagged under my sudden thrust; I felt my cock pushing down her red-hot throat, clenched in the moistest and softest of the embraces, and I purposely started fucking her face.

The girl grasped my ass, striving to breath while I thrust mercilessly in between her ears; then, after adjusting to the brutal rhythm I was forcing her into, she started deepthroating me like a pro.

Most definitely, Lisa got a very good training.

I fucked her face until I felt my cock stirring, then I stopped and let her go: I didn't want to finish up so early. Lisa gasped for air, all red in her face, and looked up at me, a sharp look in her eyes, an intoxicating mix of rage and lust.

"You bastard," she panted, "I was almost choking..."

"But you liked it, didn't you?" I grinned wickedly.

She didn't answer: her wide-opened eyes and nostrils, her reddened cheeks, her rapid breathing, as well as her swollen nipples, were telling everything about her arousal.

She just looked at me, in expectation.

I didn't want to fail her. I grabbed her by the forearm, pulled her up and tossed her on her knees over the couch.

Obediently, Lisa positioned herself to be taken doggie-style, her elbows and chin on the back of the couch, and her bottom up in the air in open offer, just like a bitch on heat would do.

I grabbed her wide hips, lifted her skirt up to her back to uncover her rounded buttocks, and caressed the soft, pink and silky skin of her bare bottom. I moved a hand down along a leg, and then back up, between her thighs, until I found her moist pussy hair.

"Uuhhh..." she moaned, "Yes, please... Take me. Take me hard..."

Her hairy lower lips opened like a flower, and once again my finger entered her slit, causing the girl to gasp with lust.

I fingered her dripping slit for a little, to prepare her for the real thing; then I grabbed my shaft, moved the cockhead along her moist crack, down to her wet hole, pushed against the open entrance, and slowly maneuvered myself into her.

"Oohhh..." she moaned again, instinctively pushing back to be taken fully.

I held her firmly by the hips, and trusted home with one, determined drive.

Lisa gasped breathless: "Ouch!"

My cock sank into her belly like in hot, melted butter, and Lisa's blond hair trusted back as her torso arched at the feeling of my sudden intrusion.

"Oh yes... Yes!" she panted, "Fuck me. Fuck me! Fuck meeeeee!"

And fuck her I did, mercilessly.

Lisa was holding herself at the back of the couch, and from her position she could watch directly out of the veranda and straight to the gate where the gunman was still standing. It was only about fifty metres away, and I could bet the thug could clearly hear the girl's moans.

We were still almost completely dressed: I just opened my fly, and I was fucking Lisa standing on my boots with my legs open enough to allow me being with my groin at the girl's hole level. She had both her shirt and skirt almost completely unbuttoned, but for the rest I didn't undressed her at all: her skirt was wrapped up her back, leaving her naked from the waist down, and her shirt was opened enough to leave her heavy naked tits to hang invitingly and bounce sexily at every thrust I slammed into her.

Fucking like a mink in that humid and hot air, I was sweating like a horse at his last mile, so I started getting rid of the heavy gear: I undid my belt with the side weapon, the knife and all the rest of the combat gear, letting it fall on the floor, and then I slipped off both the jacket and the green t-shirt, remaining naked from my waste up, the metal plate banging on my sweating chest.

Under me, Lisa was panting and gasping with pleasure, herself soaked in sweat: I could feel it while caressing her soft skin along her long thighs or under her flat belly.

"Oh! Oh! Oohhh..." she was moaning, "Oh my God... Oh my God I am coming... I am coming... I am cumminNNNNGGG!!!"

Lisa's final yell of pleasure came the moment I grabbed her bouncing bare breasts and squeezed them, pulling myself inside her to the hilt at the same time.

Instantly, I felt all her muscles contracting like if her whole body was tearing apart. She arched, as her vaginal muscles clenched around my cock like a vice, and then her orgasm exploded when I reached the deepest inside her belly.

The girl convulsed under me like if under torture, and her pussy almost milked me empty while I was enjoying the warm softness of her rounded, full breasts. I barely managed to control myself, but I knew I was on the very edge.

I held my ground while her orgasmic spasms slowly subsided, and then I pulled out of her, while grabbing a handful of her long hair, pulling her to the side and pointing my throbbing cock at her upturned, young face.

I jerked on her face for a second, before the girl realized she was still alive and then, feeling my dick banging her cheeks, Lisa reopened her mouth and swallowed again my swollen, purple cockhead.

"Oohhh, yes..." I gasped, feeling her experienced throat clenching the mushroom of the gland, "Yes, suck me off... I'm gonna cum... Yeaaaahhhhhh!!!"

I exploded deep down into Lisa's throat, shooting directly into her stomach a full blast of thick cum, which made her gag.

Lisa coughed, swallowed that first spurt of sperm, and then gasped for air, trying to open her mouth, with the result that my second shot exploded in her open mouth and splashed out, washing her purple-red face and dripping down from all around her lips and chin.

I wanted to enjoy that climax the best I could, but I would never miss the scene, so I forced my eyes wide shut and watched as my third blast of white seed hit her cheek, splashed over her nose, eye, and ended up making a mess into her hair.

The next shot was less powerful, and hit lower, again into her open mouth and down on her chin and neck.

Lisa swallowed what she could, licked her lips and started collecting droplets on her fingers, as my sperm kept reaching her pretty face, until the last drops ended on her shirt, on the couch and on my own trousers.

"Oh God..." I panted exhausted, watching all the thick, whitish cum slowly dripping from the girl's face on the couch and on her own naked chest.

I could barely stand on my legs, while Lisa, panting heavily, tried to collect herself.

She was a mess: my sperm was everywhere in her hair, on her face and down on her chest, and both the shirt and the couch looked helplessly stained.

With a wicked smile, Lisa collected some more cum on her fingers and sucked them clean, before caressing my softening weapon.

"Hmmm... I hoped in something tasty from you, but not this much!" she said, clumsily standing to her feet.

We were now facing each other, and after a second of hesitation, Lisa grabbed me, pushing her cum-covered tits into my bare chest, and kissed me open-mouth with her dirty lips.

I never liked my own cum taste, but that time it was such a perverted experience that after a second of surprise I held her tight and answered her dirty kiss with enthusiasm, suckling my own sperm from her twisting tongue and squeezing her satisfied body between my arms until my cock started winching again.

Feeling that, Lisa pulled out and looked at me breathing hard, with a dirty expression in her messed-up face.

"Let's go to my room," she panted with a broken voice: "I want to fuck you to death, but I want to do that naked in my bed!"

Breathless, I let go of her, grabbed my jacket and gear, and followed her through the corridor.

We went along a kitchen, a depot, a bathroom, a couple of closed rooms, and stopped in front of another closed door, almost at the end of the corridor, where another external door opened on the rear courtyard where WHA cars were parked.

Lisa opened the door and smiled at me with her lovely wicked look: "Here it is. I share the room with Melissa, but she's on holyday in Kenya until the end of the month..."

I grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her again in the mouth. She kissed back with enthusiasm, and while dancing with our tongues in each other's mouth, I started stripping her naked.

First, her stained shirt fell on the floor. Then I finished unbuttoning the skirt, and that too fell down. My stuff followed swiftly.

Lisa was naked in my arms... Ready to be ravaged in her own bed.

I pushed her in, and she fell on her back over the bed closer to the entrance.

I closed the door, pulling our clothes (and my pistol) in, locked it, and turned to her.

Lisa lay on her bed, naked. Legs and arms open in invitation, her lush blond pussy hair sparkling on her honey-colored skin. Only her sandals and watch were dressing her besides her nice African tan.

The most un-sexy thing about soldiering is that before joining a lady in bed you are supposed to get rid of your combat boots, which may take more time than advisable when the lady is waiting naked and ready.

I accomplished that in a record time, slipped out of my remaining cloths, and finally approached the bed enjoying the look of my mate.

Lisa was solidly built: strong bones, large shoulders and hips, and nicely trained muscles. Far from the skinny type I got to be used with slender and tall Karin and in a way closer to Alessia, but with nicer legs and in a blonde version. She had really nice tits, rounded and firm, with pointed and thick nipples... Probably the best pair of tits I ever fucked.

It seemed to me, Lisa didn't mind what she saw either. Hell, I was in quite good shape myself: by the time, I had definitely lost my big family cheeks, the love belt was lost in the memory and I was nicely tanned from the waist on from the camp working out.

Her legs open and arms tensed towards me in an open invitation, she smiled at me: "Come here, you soldier boy... Prove me your worth once more!"

I grinned, and climbed on the bed.

I lay over her naked body, feeling her soft breasts heaving warmly against my chest while her arms closed over my back. The girl's legs clenched around my hips, and our mouths met in a long, wet and passionate kiss.

I felt my cock hardening against her belly, and decided this one was going to last: I got free of her arms, and started kissing my way down, following the curves of her naked body. I sipped the tender flesh of her neck side, nursed at her left breast, savored her erected nipple, sniffed her flat stomach, suckled her belly bottom, caressed with my lips and cheek her hips, and finally felt the crispy touch of her fair pussy hair on my chin.

I fell on my knees on the pavement, sinking between her wide-open legs, savoring now the intoxicating perfume of her excited sex, felt on my cheeks the warm softness of her inner thighs, and at last I pushed my tongue into the curls of her bush, seeking for her throbbing, freshly fucked opening.

"Hmmm..." Lisa moaned feeling my experienced tongue reaching into her intimacy, "Oh yes, I like it..."

Licking between her golden pussy hair, I found her outer lips: they were moist with her arousal, and I licked my way inside her, until I felt also her inner lips flowered open and greeted me with a gush of her juicy love honey.

"Oohhh..." she moaned again, louder.

I felt her bare thighs closing around my head, her whole body warming up and trembling slightly as the pleasure started mounting.

While still eating her juicy love box, I slipped my arms under Lisa's now clenched legs and reached her stomach, helping opening her up to better reach inside her. Now my tongue was probing deep into her moist slit, capturing more and more of her honey as the young woman's arousal was growing.

After sipping another gush of juice from her intimacy, I suddenly dribbled out of Lisa's hole, driving up to her hardened love button.

The girl stiffened and arched her back, as she let go a muffled scream: "Uhnnngg!!! Oh my God... Oohhh..."

I captured her clit between my lips and started nibbling it, making her roll and buckle on her hips. I felt her hands grasping my short hair and pulling my head into her, while her soft-skinned thighs clenched me harder, like they wanted to squeeze my skull open.

I could sense she was close now: her breathing had accelerated so fast that any second her orgasm could break down. I moved my right hand back under my chin and found the way into her, dig two fingers up her now soaked slit, and found the secret, inner mound deep inside her vagina.

By now, I was truly eating her out. Lisa was moaning and bubbling louder and louder, her breath kept accelerating, and her whole body was shaking without control.

Suddenly, I suckled hard at Lisa's clit, and in the same moment I pushed hard against her newly found g-spot.

It was like pulling a trigger: the girl's climax detonated with the speed and power of a thunderbolt. I felt her fingers tightening behind my neck, like they were going to pierce into my head, and felt like drowning into her soaked pussy, while her legs clenched like a vice around my ears.
"Oh!" she gasped, shaking and convulsing without control under my combined and determined assault to her most sensitive spots, "Oohhh... Oh my God... Oh my God... Oh my God... OH MY GAAAWWD-D-D-D!!!!!!!!!!!"

I kept on suckling and pushing, and she kept cumming for what looked ages, and her juice poured out of her like a stream in season, allowing me to properly eat her to satiation.

Lisa's convulsions went on with her climax, along with her curses and screams, until she finally collapsed on her bed, incapable to take more.

I sensed her surrender, and paced down my action, relaxing my fingertips inside her and letting go of her swollen clit; my tongue went down along her drenched slit, sipping all the juice that was trickling out of her.

Her exhausted frame was still trembling out of her exertion when I finally raised my head to look at her: Lisa's eyes were closed; her breasts were heaving fast, as she was trying to recover her breath, and her hands lay lifeless along her used body.

I moved beside her on the bed, held her tight in my arms and lay a kiss on her now cold lips.

She didn't react, and I kissed her stronger, pushing my tongue inside her mouth, to let her taste herself. After a short hesitation, I felt her tongue react; she winced a second, and finally accepted my intrusion, answering the kiss.

Her weak arms circled my shoulders pulling me over, and in a second we were passionately French-kissing each other in the aftermath of our lovemaking.

Aftermath? I was far from done with this lewd young lady.

I was feeling her soft breasts pushing against my chest: her nipples were piercing like needles while we kissed open-mouth, trying to eat each other's breath out.

My cock was pushing in turn against her stomach, as if willing to fuck her into her navel.

It was a matter of small movements: without breaking our kiss, I slipped in between her open legs, sank my cockhead in the bush of her pussy hair, pushed it against the drenched inner lips of her hole, and fucked into her with a merciless thrust of my hips.

"Hnnngg..." she moaned inside my mouth, feeling my hot shaft driving inside her steaming hole.

"Uuhhh..." I groaned back, feeling as getting swallowed into her hungry belly.

Lisa's pussy was as warm and wet as a tropical jungle. Her inner muscles weren't as trained as Karin's, but the girl was young and tight, so the feeling on my dick was almost the same. I felt her arms holding my shoulders and back, and her legs closing around my hips, so I opened my knees to get a base, and slowly started to fuck her.

We didn't stop kissing, and our coupling remained a quiet and slow one for quite a while: I wanted to spare her long enough to let her time to recover and I wanted to enjoy the screw as long as possible.

When I felt she started answering my thrusts and her arms and legs were holding me stronger, I started pushing deeper into her, but without changing my rhythm. I broke our kiss, and stood on my arms to be able look what I was fucking.

I liked what I saw: Lisa was all red in her face, her hair was in a mess, her eyes were wide open and her honey-colored skin was shining with a thin layer of sweat from the previous exertion. Her breasts were bouncing at each thrust I was slamming into her belly, and her pink nipples were twisting in the air, showing all her appreciation for the ministrations I was delivering to her.

It was due time to start accelerating the rhythm: my little tart was closing up again, and I must admit I started feeling the day in my muscles... I kept both direction and depth of my movement, but raised my fucking tempo, causing her to squirm and moan louder, and then I slammed deeper into her, loosing rhythm and direction and getting more violent.

Lisa got wild.

With a loud scream, she sank her fingernails into my back and her heels into my thighs, pushing me all the way into herself. Her own legs clenched at me like a vice and I realized I was going to loose it.

"Oh my... Oh my..." she gasped, all red and sweaty in her face, "I'm gonna cum... I'm gonna cum... Yeah! Oh yeah... I'm cumming... I'm cumming..."

She was pretty close and me with her. No time to wonder about contraception.

I slammed into her wildly, and hit the bottom.

"AH! Ah... Ah... Ah... Aaaaahhhhhhhh! Aaaaahhhhhhhh! Aaaaaaarrggghhhhhhh!!!" she screamed when my cockhead reached her cervix, making her explode into yet another and more powerful orgasm.

Her uncontrolled, feral convulsions threw me over the edge too, and I blasted my second, long held burst against the back of her young womb.

"Oh my God, yes!" she yelled, feeling my hot and thin sperm filling her insides, "Yes! Fill me... Fill me... Oh my God... Oh my Gaaawwdd-d-d... Yeaaaaaagghhhhhhh!!!"

I felt myself shooting sperm deep into this girl for almost a full minute, it was like my whole brain liquefied and sprayed into her pussy my most intimate essence.

Spurt after spurt of cum shot into Lisa, in a never-ending burst of pleasure, which left both of us totally spent.

When her convulsions subsided, she almost collapsed under me; I lasted just a second longer, and then collapsed completely over her shaking body, in a heap of sweaty, exhausted and satisfied human flesh.

Still plugged inside her, I softly kissed her lips, and muttered: "I'm done, honey."

"That's just as fine," she panted, "I'm dead."

We lay a while on top of each other, and then I felt strong enough to rise on my arms and pull out of her.

"Uh!" she sobbed, as I exited her, and then smiled when I caressed her feet.

I admired her firm, strong frame lying naked on her bed, her legs open to show proudly her well-fucked pussy: my sperm was slowly oozing out of her sloppy entrance, soaking her already drenched golden bush and trickling down her inner thighs to make a puddle in the very centre of the bed.

I caressed her along her soft-skinned thighs, then her cum-soaked pubic hair, her flat stomach, her firm, warm breasts, and I lay to kiss her in the mouth.

Lisa answered the kiss, and in a second we just lay in her destroyed bed, kissing and cuddling in the most classic of the lovemaking aftermaths...

"I am dead," she repeated, and laughed softly: "And lucky me, you were already tired yourself, poor thing!"

I growled something about soldiering trains you to hard battles, and she laughed again.

"You're being out in the bushes tomorrow too?"

Uh. After pleasure, time to be back at work, I thought: "Well, actually yes. I'm gotta go east, between the Imperial Road and the American Highway, just north of Bulo Burti. There are those damned technicians from ENI, with their prospections..."

I felt Lisa stiffening. It was just a second, had I not expected it, I'd never noticed.

"Oh? What is ENI, another NGO?"

Bingo, I thought. There we were...

"ENI is our national oil company. They must believe wherever there is sand, there must be oil too..."

"Silly Billies," was her casual comment: "And they are searching for it north-east of Bulo Burti?"

"Uh-uh. And guess who has to escort them there?"

"Oh, poor you! Will you have to stay away for long?"

It sounded like she was sorry to lose me, sweet girl... "No. Just the day. Time to set up the camp and the guards, and I'll come back."

"Good," she smiled: "I wouldn't mind to train another little bit with you, soldier boy..."

Mission accomplished, I thought within myself. And felt a bit less bad, thinking there was a reason why I had just been untrue to Karin.

It may be a disillusion to all believers in UN and international solidarity, but chance wants that besides the four major involved powers in Restore Hope (US, France, Germany and Italy), there were also the corresponding oil companies. All very busy in drilling into the sand of the respective Army Area of Responsibility to seek for unknown oil depots. Well, you can't expect Nations perform major operations like Restore Hope just for free...

Well, I didn't lie... Not completely. I would never do that to friends... I was just a bit imprecise, and you can forgive me that, considering my delicious blonde spy had just fucked the shit out of my brain... ENI was drilling northeast of Bulo Burti; just much north of it, and actually even north of Belet Weyne. A satellite would have worked uselessly, in the next few hours...

WHA held a party a week later.

Apart from the hidden background, it seemed like my affaire with Lisa was useful to the relationship between UNOSOM troops and the NGOs community, since this time the invitation was extended to both us and the other European contingents (they forgot the Nigerians, but also humanitarian agencies may be a little bit racist, don't they?). The two Regiment Commanders declined, but sent a representation... As usual, our representative was just me, while the others came in strength: S2, S3, S5 and S6 all attended... And they all were outranking me.

There was the local political coordinator of UNOSOM with his beautiful Somali secretary, and then all a score of representatives from humanitarian agencies and organizations in town.

It was quite well organized, considering our situation, and again I wondered about how much money WHA had available for this mission... Good music, snacks, and scores of soft drinks.

After the locals left around dusk, and also the elder members had said goodbye (including the political coordinator and two of the other Army officers), the beer appeared, followed quickly by Gin and Whisky. Music background turned to modern disco, and the WHA women got quite wild, Carolyn in lead.

Our tall host grabbed the S3, actually the second in command of their Regiment, and had him in the middle of the room, dancing like in a Berlin underground club. Actually, also the music turned out to be modern European disco dance, and the poor guy looked so happy he soon forgot where he was.

As I mentioned earlier, I still was young and naïve... I was quite surprised how quickly that stiff high ranking Staff officer turned into the willing victim of a hungry woman: in less than five minutes, the two were hugging and kissing in a corner, while the rest of the remaining guests were getting almost as wild.

Well, none of my business anyway. Lisa was as wild as the others: she also got more than a glass of Gin and Tonic on top of her previous beers, and her blouse was far more open in the front than it used to be at the beginning of the party, and the same long buttoned skirt of a few days before was also more open that advisable for a girl who forgets to wear her undies. The young bitch was on heat, and I was ready to oblige her.

We started groping and kissing on our patio couch, and I had soon a bare breast in my hand while French-kissing the more than willing owner.

Music was still loud, and I started being annoyed with the noise, not to mention the number of elder couples who started making out straight away all around us. We were by far the youngest people around, and it seemed I was the only sober at all... I had only one beer, and didn't even finish the can, which was now rolling on the floor, spreading its content between the feet of the drunken Swedish bitch from Save the Children, who was dancing sexily with the local agent of the World Food Programme, a kind Australian guy with a thick gray bear who was far more drunk than her.

"Couldn't we escape to your room?" I asked breaking the kiss for a second.

Lisa kissed me back, and then purred: "No... Let's stay here and enjoy the music."

I felt her hand on my crotch, trying to unzip my fly.

In the middle of the room, one of my colleagues was already bare-chested: Megan, the youngest doctor of WHA, was going quite directly at what she wanted, and was clearly trying to get into his trousers... The guy was not going to resist for long.

Nor was the S3: Carolyn was a few years older than Megan, but also quite experienced. She herself was quite disheveled by now, her long skirt was pretty open on one side, and her blouse was open enough to show clearly she wore no bra. Actually, she looked far more attractive than I thought, considering her age.

Lisa didn't want to leave the living room. But there was no way I was going to stay, sensing what was going to take place. So I pulled her on the feet and pushed her back against the patio door, like as to feel the fresher air of the night.

Lisa did not resist that, and soon I had one hand between her legs, and a hard nipple between my lips.

"Hmmm... Yes, do me Bob, please. Oh, I'm so horny..." she moaned, while I started enjoying the taste of her tender flesh.

My fingers sank in the dump bush of her pubic hair, and in no time slid between her lips and into her steamy slit.

"Oohhh..." Lisa was ready and willing. Her nipple felt deliciously thick and hard in my watering mouth.

I moved a little bit more out, and suddenly we were out of the enlightened area, safe in the shadow of the patio.

I started masturbating Lisa with two fingers, while I was actively sucking her nipple. She gasped and twisted, shaking in my arms.

"Get down," I whispered in her ear with command voice: "I'm gonna fuck your head."

The young whore was more than happy to oblige. She fell on her knees and quickly opened my trousers, discovering a very erected cock ready to be worked out.

I felt her experienced hand starting pumping, then her hot tongue caressed the bulb, and finally her soft lips closed on the engorged shaft...

Lisa started blowing me hard, and I grasped her hair in one hand to force her into my favorite rhythm: I was truly going to fuck her little brain out.

From my standing position in the shadows, I enjoyed a good view of most of the living room. Apart from Megan and her guy, who must have been somewhere behind the wall I was hanging against, I could see at least four couples making out, plus two or three other guys sitting drunkenly at the vimini chairs and Helen, the oldest of the WHA doctors, moving around the stereo.

As I mentioned before, Lisa was very good at giving head. Her throat was so hot and still so soft, and I really felt like I was going to cum between her ears in a very short while.

That was not my idea, so I pulled out and I forced her back on her feet.

Lisa panted hard, trying to recover her breath after her deepthroating. I could hardly see her face, but I could bet she was smiling satisfied when I pushed her with the face against the wall. I lifted her skirt over her back, forced her legs open and pushed again two fingers inside her fuckhole, to prepare her for coupling.

She positioned herself, holding with the hands against the wall, ready for the onslaught, and I emplaced my cock between her sweaty buttocks, aiming at her entrance.

I held her firmly by her wide hips, and impaled her.

Lisa yelled loud in the night, feeling my sudden invasion, but inside the room they were so busy and drunk that nobody cared. I pierced my way into her pussy mercilessly, sinking balls-deep inside her body, and kept her tight in position to get her stretched muscles used to my intrusion.

"Aw! You bastard, it hurts..." she muttered breathlessly, but then she added: "But don't stop, please... Oh God, it's so good. Hmmm..."

She moved a hand between her legs to start fingering her clit, and as I felt her lubrication increasing, I started fucking her in a standing position; it was quite uncomfortable, especially for her, but gave me a good view of what was happening inside.

Our position on the couch had been taken by Carolyn and her mate: I could not see the guy, hidden by the back of the sofa, but the WHA Chief was slowly bouncing up and down on him, making the furniture squeaking under their movements.

The centre of the room was occupied by the Swedish/Australian couple: the bitch was straddling the Aussie giving her naked back to me, and in the meantime she was trying to work something out of the crotch of another guy I didn't know, who looked quite drunk and sat on a vimini chair next to them.

I could also see Megan, next to the edge of my sight: she was on her knees, between the legs of the other Officer who lay naked on the floor, and her head was bobbing up and down in what looked like quite a blowjob. I couldn't see the face of the guy, but there was no doubt from his moans that he was enjoying the treat.

Sue Ann, another WHA lady, was on another vimini chair, and somebody I couldn't recognize was giving her head: she was groping her own massive breasts, which were popping out of her blouse and bra, and holding her legs around the guy's shoulders.

Another two guys were around: one lied passed out on the floor, and another one from the Federation of Red Crescent and Red Cross was slowly jerking off watching Carolyn fucking her guy in front of him.

Helen had disappeared, and actually also Paula, the last doctor from WHA, was missing. Either they retired to their rooms (alone or in company), or they were busy with something else.

Lisa was panting hard under my strokes, and I was enjoying the firm and warm body I was fucking with no regards for her own needing... Not that she seemed minding at all. I cupped a bouncing breast with a hand and squeezed it wickedly while pumping into the girl's channel.

"Ouch!" she gasped, fucking back to get me as deep as possible, "You bloody bastard, it hurts! What the fuck happened to you, be gentle... Oohhh... Oh, yes, like that... Oh, do me; do me like that, yes! Oh, yes! Oh! Oohhh..."

I didn't like the situation, it was a clear set up, and there had to be a reason for it. Lisa was trying to trick me, and that's why I was treating her like a piece of meat. My problem was that she liked it...

A flash.

No doubts, it was a fucking camera flash, shot from the courtyard. Damnit, I thought I was safe in the darkness, but clearly somebody took the hassle to walk out and snap a picture to us from behind...

Okay, nothing I could do about it now. At least, they didn't get me in the middle of an orgy, but simply screwing a tart against a wall.

And screwing the tart I kept on doing, enjoying it all the more now that my suspects had been confirmed.

Inside, the action was peaking. Helen had reappeared, and almost immediately after she showed in, Carolyn faked an orgasm, screaming out loud and tossing her hair around like if she just reached paradise.

Megan finished off her guy a second later, with a wicked final suck and a fast hand job, which caused the poor thing to shoot into the sky.

Also Sue Ann came violently, or at least she pretended to, and immediately after she pushed her partner away: it was then that I recognized the UN political administrator... I thought he left, but clearly he came back to enjoy himself with fewer witnesses.

The only two couples still at it were us and the Swedish/Australian one. Poor Lisa wasn't in charge, and probably the other two lovers weren't part of the set up.

The Swede was accelerating her rhythm, riding her older partner to frenzy, her small pointed tits bouncing and swaying on his red face, and I thought the Aussie was lucky to be in a house stuffed with doctors, just in case he got a hart attack...

"Oh yeah! Oh yeah!" Lisa was getting louder, and peoples inside finally noticed us: "Oh Yeah! Yeah! Yeaaaaahhhhhh..."

The girl surrendered with a long cry of delight, and I felt her cunt muscles contracting viciously around my shaft. If I were more into it, I would cum violently, but being worried for what was going on in reality and angry at myself for letting myself taken by that flash even being aware of the risk, I was mentally distant, and it was difficult for me to cum.

When Lisa's orgasm subsided, I pulled out and forced her back on her knees.
In the lounge, the Swede had reached her climax, and a long squeal of delight signaled it to everybody. I could see sperm trickling down from her still stuffed fuckhole, creaming the Aussie's testicles and thighs.

After her orgasm, the woman collapsed on her mature partner, and the two lay there in a heap.

I forced my cock into Lisa's eager mouth and she resumed her deepthroating, while jerking me with her hand.

It looked like I was the only guest who didn't come yet, so I obliged as fast as I could. It was not difficult: Lisa's mouth was so hot and wet, and her gorge so tight, that in a matter of seconds I shot a thick load of cum deep into the girl's throat.

Lisa gasped, chocked and panicked, trying to pull free of my grip, but I held her tight by the ears, forcing her mercilessly to swallow my sticky load.

She coughed and gasped again, spitting sperm and swallowing at the same time, trying desperately to get rid of all the goo that was engorging her mouth and throat.

Finally, I let go of her ears and hair, allowing the lewd lady to catch back her breath, as cum spurted out of her mouth, and some more weak jets splashed on her upturned, red face.

When Lisa laid her back against the wall, exhausted, cum was matting her hair, dripping along her check, trickling down her chin and straining her naked breasts; she was a mess.

The orgy was over.

I didn't take the risk to enter the lounge again and getting busted on a picture between all those naked and gooey people, so I just left through the courtyard, wondering who won the game.

Hell, for sure I got a hell of a fun!


I was angry at the WHA women because of the trap they lay for us at the party, and grew more and more apart from Lisa, despite her attempts to keep close.

She kept coming to our camp asking for me, but I was always away for her; our soldiers were smiling, and Colonel Scaranzi started jokingly asking weather he could take her over.

We saw each other at the weekly meetings, of course, but I always avoided remaining alone with her.

Another reason that made me angry was that I realized our comrades in the next camp had completely changed attitude: from friendly and outgoing, they turned awkward and very suspicious... I easily guessed a few pictures had come out already, and even my Commander was so pissed with the situation, that he also told me to reduce my contacts with Lisa, no matter what G2 was saying in Mogadishu.

The only thing that intrigued me was to see weather my picture with Lisa would ever show out...

Finally, after another meeting at their own compound, she managed to corner me in the shadows of the courtyard wall, and forced a hug and a kiss out of me.

It was the first time in my life I got "harassed" so plainly, and I must admit it wasn't so bad.

I answered the kiss, rolling my tongue in her open and willing mouth, savoring the sweet taste of her mouth, while wondering with my hands on her firm body. One hand cupped her butt, while the other slipped into her boson, getting hold of a soft, rounded breast.

The girl moaned with pleasure, and after a few seconds of more French-kissing and groping, during which I opened her shirt to show her beautiful, uncovered boobs, she slipped on her knees and got hold of my zipper. In no time, my cock was in her mouth.

I was a young male at war, the situation was getting more and more nasty, and I did enjoy Lisa's oral ministrations to full extent.

While she was giving me head, I noticed the gunman at the gate was looking at us intently. It was Hamid, the same guy of the first time I came, and the one Lisa claimed she didn't like to have around while being alone.

What the hell.

I grabbed Lisa's head with both hands, and plainly started fucking her skull, enjoying her total submission and the soft, wet tightness of her gorge.

It was a quick, brutal affair: she deep-throated me shamelessly under the eyes of her bodyguard, and I used her head to pleasure myself without any human respect, which I strongly suspected she liked.

Soon, I felt my testicles tickle dangerously, my muscled tensed and I groaned in total ecstasy, shooting into Lisa's throat once again.

This time, the naughty girl was not caught off guard: she knew what she was up against, and was ready to take my load down her throat without chocking.

It was me, the one who didn't want her to swallow everything: satisfied with her first gulps, I pulled put of her mouth and aimed purposefully at her bare chest. I held myself an extra second to raise the inner pressure, and then I released three extra blasts of sperm that washed Lisa's beautiful, naked breasts.

'Hmmm..." she moaned, satisfied by my show of power.

I looked down at her: a thin rope of cum was trickling down the corner of her mouth, while a number of thick, white streams of sperm were pouring down her firm, round tits and drenching her sand-colored open shirt. The girl looked quite a mess, and I felt quite proud of it.

"Nice," she purred with a dirty smile, cleaning the semen from her mouth, and then starting rubbing the rest of it on the mess of her honey-colored naked chest: "Why don't we do this more often? You have been avoiding me, lately..."

"I've been busy, Lisa," I replied, matter-of-factly, zipping up my fly as after taking a pee.

"Hmmm..." she giggled, cleaning her soaked fingers with her tongue, "You may have been busy, but your weapon needed to unload quite badly... And me too!"

True. I wanted to say something nasty, but only shrugged instead.

I just pinched at her sperm-wet nipple making her squeal and left, leaving her all messed up with sperm in that dark corner of the courtyard.

I passed fast in front of the smiling gunman and left the gate to reach my waiting jeep.


Lisa didn't appreciate the humiliation, and from that day, she started looking upset and even hostile every time we met, which as I said was happening just when I really had to. Apparently, she had given up with her seduction mission, which was OK with me: I rather delivered my casual fake information directly to Carolyn, whom at least I appreciated for her professionalism.

Girls will be my ruin, I know. Even when I am not involved directly, they cause problems. I mean, when that team from ARD (German TV) came to our camp asking to film something interesting since the German Contingent had at the time such strict national ROEs that they could hardly move, I thought Colonel Scaranzi would offer them a cold tea and send them away. Instead, he had a long look to the slender (and not-so-dressed) figure of a pretty assistant of the team chief, offered them a tea all right, and then ordered me to take the TV team with me on my daily patrol.

Of course, the young lady staid in our camp with the team leader, and I found myself around in the bushes with a goddamned Mercedes jeep behind and two ugly and long-beard German journalists, eager to film anything I could offer them.

Well, I thought it was just upsetting, but I didn't take into account Murphy's Law.

After a few kilometers in the bush, we met a Melanzana ("Eggplant", an old truck where the goods were carried in layers, like in our Melanzane alla Parmigiana: upper level was the passengers, which lay on top of the animals, which lay on top of the goods, which hide the smuggled weapons). The driver stopped and told us that in the nearest village they found a mine.

The interpreter translated, and the journalists got all excited. We went on the scene and came right into the centre of the village.

There was a crowd, everybody was waiting for us, and the chief of the village showed to us, very proudly, their landmine. It was an old, Chinese-made antitank mine. It lay there, uncovered in the centre of the "main square" of the village.

The journalists got berserk filming. I was fuming.

Problem: the rules in the case you find a mine during a patrol are simple: you mark the spot and call a specialized EOD (Explosive Ordnance Deliver) Team, which will dispose of the nasty thing. Yes, but those stupid journalists were there to witness action, and were filming everything. I could almost see that night TV News in Germany: "UN patrol find a mine in a poor African village, and leave it there for the children to play with, postponing any action to the moment an engineer will be available..." My Commander would not be pleased, nor my Prime Minister would.

OK, let's think hard (which for a soldier may be not so easy). The Germans were filming, so something had to be done; the mine was in the middle of the village, so it couldn't have always been there; we knew that usually the Somalis forget to fuse land mines.

I checked the damned thing, and I could spot no wires or manumission... I was not a booby-trap.

I hoped.

I had everybody around move away, and then I breathed deeply. I said a prayer, I thought of Karin, and finally, I lifted the mine with two hands.

Nothing happened.

The Germans were filming enthusiastically.

I sobbed, thinking how small my pay was; compared with the civil technicians doing exactly that job where security conditions were a little bit better, and then I carried the stupid piece of iron to my jeep, or "removing it for later disposal", as I wrote in my report.

My driver was a bit uncomfortable during the drive back, but the journalists were quite pleased.

That evening, Colonel Scaranzi laughed half an hour, patting me on the shoulders, and that was my best reward.

On August the 15th, which for us represents the heart of summer holidays, I got my most challenging engagement.

A band of gunmen, which later resulted to be but the hired guards of the compound, had seized the World Food Program depot in the centre of Belet Wayne, claiming they had not been paid and asking for their rights... In Europe we would call it a strike, only in Somalia this was performed with weapons and became urban warfare.

We had only a handful of troops available to react at the moment, since our Quick Reaction Force was committed next to the borderline, the Nigerians were neither willing nor allowed to engage into city fight, and the Germans weren't allowed to conduct proper combat operations by their government. So there I was, with half a platoon and two armored recce vehicles to storm a wall-ringed compound, defended by people trained to do it...

OK, I will not go into too many details. Suffice to say that I sneaked in with my Intelligence Aid while our soldiers were offering a show in front of the main gate, and while he covered me from a decent position, I just showed in the courtyard where the thugs were collected, and played the angry white massa. It may sound not politically correct, but those kinds of superiority shows still hold a deep impact on local warlords.

I just barked something in English, and then I moved to the gate, challenging them to stop me. I opened the gate lock without they could decide to shoot at me, and in a minute my men were inside the compound, on the walls and on the roofs.

We just collected the weapons of the thugs and kicked them out, leaving Alistair, the Australian local director of the agency, to retake possession of his compound.

The guy was actually very nice with us after the action, contrary of what usually happens with most NGOs volunteers: he wanted to shake hands with our soldiers, and then invited the platoon Commander and me for a drink to his temporary accommodation. After the gunmen took over his compound, he had moved into the Save the Children compound, guest of his Swedish friend, and all his personal belongings were still there.

After sending our boys back to the camp and leaving a squad to protect the compound as long as the Aussie hired another team of guards, I escorted the guy back to the Save the Children compound to pick up his stuff.

There, I declined the whisky he offered me, and accepted a cold tea. For once, his Swedish friend was less bitchy than usual, and even smiled when thanked me for helping her friend. Apparently, she just believed soldiers were just thugs like her own gunmen, and was pleased to realize we might also be useful. Sometimes.

Apart from her bitchy attitude, her company wasn't that bed: much closer to forty than to thirty, Christina (that was her name) looked quite worn in her face, but quite in shape as far as her body was concerned. Actually, she looked so muscled, ragged and lean that you might easily take her for a lesbian... Only I knew she wasn't.

She wore shorts, showing quite a pair of long, muscled and tanned legs, and an unbuttoned dirty shirt, which showed clearly she was almost completely flat chested. Dirty blonde and with blue eyes, she was quite a specific type. And when she finally smiled, she almost looked pretty.

There was somebody else in the compound, apart from us and the gunmen, and was a French doctor in his late twenties, who acted as Christine deputy for their NGO, and which I instinctively disliked: tall, slim, white-skinned and hairy, he looked even more bitchy than Christine, plus he seemed incapable to smile at all.

While we sat for the tea, he came in, without shaking hands or saying hello, sat next to Christine and just placed a long surgeon hand on her bare leg, like if to proof his ownership. I wondered if he had any idea Alistair fucked is girlfriend just days before...

I got another thrill just days later, when I led my recce team north along the American Highway towards the Ethiopian border and the far corner of our AOR.

We went with two jeeps, armed with heavy machineguns and antitank missile launchers: me and my aid, two drivers and two Carabinieri, six people all in all.

It was a damned hot day, but it was fun. We checked the ENI camp, getting confirmed that the "carrots" they rigged showed no trace of oil, and then we turned north-east towards Galkayo; we reaching more far east than anybody else from UNOSOM did before, exploring the area and checking our beautiful blank maps (very) few data.

Somebody didn't like it.

The area just northeast of our AOR was more or less completely under control of the Habr-Gadir tribe, the men of Mr. Aideed. And there were a lot of them, mostly mounted on their technikas, kind of jeeps with heavy machineguns or even small recoilless guns mounted. They also sported a few old tanks and armored recce vehicles... And that day they decided to show us the full inventory.

Luckily for us, they weren't believer in sneak attacks, and privileged shooting at long range.

They opened up more or less the moment they saw us, with what seemed to be a 106mm recoilless rifle. Something we had in museums, but it hurts.

You need a lot of training and some luck to hit a mobile target with it, and they were short of both.

We got the warning, reached higher ground and managed to assess the odds.

They were bad. Bad for us, I mean: the guys had at least eight technikas with a variety of gear on top, plus two of what seemed to be old BRDM-2 Soviet-vintage armored recce vehicles.

I like games, but not to be the game, so we started retreating slowly towards our AOR boundary.

We let them approach up to 2000 metres, and we shot two Apilas antitank missiles, just to show we were players too: the two Carabinieri who shot were well trained, and one of the two BRDMs exploded in a cute fireball.

This gave them something to think about, and we started a proper delaying action to disengage fighting our way out of the trap: the other jeep run for another position in the rear, and we shot another missile to cover them, missing shortly the other BRDM, which realized to be too slow and vulnerable and chose to withdraw. Good they didn't know we had only one missile left...

When the second jeep reached its new position and opened up with its Browning 0.5 machinegun, we left our position and run for our own new one, about 200 metres behind the other.

The technikas were less scared than the BRDM, and run for us, shooting all the way. They must have had lots of ammunitions to spare, because shooting with machineguns while driving in the bushes is more or less useless.

We just alternated fire and movement, withdrawing one vehicle at the time and giving ground quite slowly, but our fire from the temporary positions was far more precise than theirs.

Did you ever watch a 0.5 firing at maximum range? It's quite a sight. The tracers show the trajectory of your short bursts, and the target can't change its heading fast enough to prevent your bullets to adjust on it... If it's neither covered nor armored, that is.

That's how we saw the first technika more or less go into our burst, taking hits, tossing violently, turning over at high speed, and finally explode.

Those old wrecks were driving on petrol, and fast to ablaze.

First we got one, and then, as we withdrew, our mates got another one.

After that, the idiots got wiser, and slew down, allowing us to withdraw without further incidents till we reached radio range to our base and called for air support, but when our helicopters appeared, the Habr-Gadir were long gone.

We came home all dusty and glorious and while I was reporting to my Regiment Commander, our G-4, the Chief Logistics, informed me he was going to charge me with the ammunition we spent.


You know, we were not officially at war, so the ammo we were using was theoretically for training, and when you shoot training ammo, you are supposed to carry home the brass of the spent cartridge... And 0.5 cartridges have a lot of brass.

That's my Army, folks!

Since that incident, we doubled our air patrols north and east of Belet Weyne.

No, there was no oil in the Somali desert... But you can't run away like a beaten dog after the bad guys start shooting at you: it would be the wrong political signal, wouldn't it?

So we staid, and ENI tried to drill more south, east of Gialalaxi, and I went to WHA to tell them they were drilling west of it, just in case...

I didn't see Lisa since a while, and I wasn't surprised when the thug told me she wasn't in the compound... She grew quite cold with me lately, and I didn't care that much either. I was there to work, not to see my girlfriend.

So I asked for Carolyn instead and yes, she was in.

The WHA boss received me in the usual lounge open on the patio, and I smiled noticing that the old couch still showed the cum stain from the first coupling between Lisa and I.

"Hi Bob," Carolyn greeted me with a warm smile: "How long I didn't see you... Are you looking for Lisa?"

"Well, not exactly," I shrugged, "Actually, I just wanted to hear weather everything was OK with everybody, since I didn't see any of you for quite a while."

Carolyn smiled and tossed her long dark hair: "Oh, everything is fine with us... Paula left to be back to the States, and we got a new TV... Nothing else, I suppose. Apart from Lisa, who was sad not to see you around anymore."

"Uh. Well, I suppose we have been a bit busy up to the north. Actually, where did she go? The guard told me she isn't in."

Carolyn looked genuinely surprised: "Why... She is in now. She's not due to go anywhere today. Must be in her room, as far as I know. Why don't you go and see for her? I bet she will be happy to see you."

I hesitated a second and she added, with a wicked smile: "I suppose you know where her room is..."

I knew all right. No use to dismiss the invitation: Carolyn was trying hard to reconnect Lisa to me, and I didn't want to make a specific point that I wasn't interested in seeing her. So I made Carolyn happy and went down the corridor to Lisa's room.

I knew there was something wrong before knocking the door. I must have sensed something without realizing it, maybe a sound, or a smell... I don't know.
But instead to knock, I just opened the door.

Lisa was having fun. Naked from the waist down, she was riding a guy on her bed, joyfully weaving her hair around and moaning with pleasure.

OK, I thought with a smile, Carolyn is not in full control of her women...

The guy under her was long, thin, whitish and hairy; he too hadn't undressed before making out, still wore shoes and shirt, and his trousers were just down his ankles, while his hands were holding Lisa's bouncing large buttocks.

"Yeah... Yeah, fuck me... That's it, fuck me... Yeah... Oh, yeah!"

They didn't realize immediately my presence: Lisa was being quite noisy, like if they were at it since a while, and by now next to the real business. She was pumping hard her new lover, his cock was appearing and disappearing inside her fuckhole at quite fast a rhythm and his hairy grayish testicles looked hard and ready to release.

"Oh yeah!" Lisa was moaning, "Yeah... Yeah... Oh yeah..."

It was too funny: it was mean, but I couldn't resist.

"Lisa..." I said.

She jumped at the sound of my voice, tossed violently her head and froze as she saw me.

"Bob!" she gasped, flashed by the anticlimax.

The guy jumped from underneath her, saw me in the doorframe, and literally slipped away from between the girl's legs. He crumpled into his own trousers and fell behind the bed with a noisy thud.

The half-naked girl instinctively closed the shirt hems on her bare breasts and looked at me in pure horror, all red in her face.

"I am sorry," I smiled, "I didn't want to disturb you... Carolyn told me to drop to your room since you were in."

The guy jumped on his feet, desperately pulling his trousers up, and clumsily run for the open window. I just recognized him for Philippe, the French new doctor from Save the Children I met days before at Christine compound: also all red in his face, his long and thin dick showing out his long and thin body while desperately trying to cover up and cross the window at one time, he looked the prototype of the clumsy, busted lover.

He literally fell out of the window before I could say anything more, and then there was only Lisa, half naked on her undone bed, girlishly trying to cover herself with the very little clothes she got available and totally speechless for the embarrassment.

I decided not to overkill, smiled again to her, said "Ciao," and closed the door leaving her alone with her frustration.

Carolyn looked surprised to see me back in the lounge so soon: she did expect her young agent to be a little more capable to hook me I suppose...

"Wasn't she in?" she asked, puzzled.

I smiled: "Well, she was actually, but I don't think this was the right moment to see her..."

The woman looked ever more puzzled, but I just added a few more words about a lots of work to do, our ENI people moving west of Gialalaxi, and things like that, waved a cheer and left, laughing inside myself.

Carolyn strolled into the corridor the moment I left the lounge, and I wouldn't have liked to be in Lisa's panties once Carolyn discovered what just happened...

Our company recaptured Checkpoint Pasta the day after, re-establishing the ground connection between us and the harbor. We weren't isolated anymore.

Our satisfaction for the success lasted a week, and then two soldiers of ours were snipered dead at the harbor, while a full platoon of Nigerians got massacred in the southern sector of the city, next to the boundary with us. After killing them, the Somali crowd undressed and mutilated them badly. They weren't happy with they clothes, they got eyes and testicles too... Our boys who forced their way to the massacre felt sick with what they found.

The new setback of UNOSOM forces in Moga drove to a new clash between our contingent and the Force HQ, which ended up with an almost complete breakdown of relationships between us and the retired Admiral at the head of the UN Mission. In the end they agreed to the withdrawal of our forces from our sector of the city, apart from our Embassy, the harbor and the road connecting them to the rest of our AOR, so that somebody else was going to settle things there... The point was, the retired Admiral behaved like if he had his own Policy, and our Authorities like if we had no policy at all...

In the same days, I finally met US troops inland. It was a small Rangers party: they happened to be parked with their four Hummers on the side of the Imperial Road, just north of the crossroad to Gialalaxi.

They waved us to stop, and I told my driver to come beside the head vehicle, where their Lieutenant was reading a map.

"Hi," I smiled at him, tossing my glasses over the helmet: "May I help you?"

"Yeah," the guy showed me the blank map: "Where the hell are we?"

"Err..." I muttered, quite surprised: "You are on the only fucking paved road in the whole goddamned Somalia, next to one of its only two crossroads... Here!"

I pointed the spot on his map.

"Yeah. Our GPS is broken."

Wonderful. I did hope those elite guys were searching for our ENI workshop instead for Aideed, 'cause if they weren't and they really got lost on the only paved road of the country because their GPS was out of order, there was no hope we could win that stupid war...

Well, I had many other experiences with the US Army, and luckily for the Western civilization they were all far better than the one I got in Somalia.

As I said, we had increased our air patrols north and east of Belet Weyne after my desert encounter with the Habr-Gadir, and at the end of September I took a ride on one of our choppers for a recce over the desert trails which led east.

We always flew with two choppers: a multirole one, AB-205, with the recce party on board, and an attack one, A-129, acting as escort. The first one is your standard Huey helicopter, while the other is the kind of ugly thing that looks like a giant grasshopper, is armored and full with guns and missiles.

It may be depressing to overfly Somalia: you can go on for half an hour without seeing absolutely any living being more developed than a scrubby bush, and then when you spot a village you really wonder how the poor people over there can survive, living in their shabby huts made by branches and waste bags and surrounded by nothing. Places that have never seen any humanitarian help, and for them the arrival of a patrol of us is an event that justifies a party... Of course a party within their means and capability.

I forced myself to think of something else.

There was no trace of Habr-Gadir along the desert trails, nor there was any sign of anybody for that sake.

When we flow back, we started spotting signs of more rooted human presence closing to the river, until we spotted a jeep.

A pea-green jeep, like there was only one in the whole East Africa.

It was driving on a totally empty trail out of Belet Weyne, leading to a direction where the first village lay over eighty kilometers away, which was quite strange considering it was late afternoon.

After just reaching a small group of trees in the middle of the bush, the jeep stopped in the shadows, and there it staid.

Our recce mission was over, and my curiosity needed to be satisfied: what the hell was Lisa doing at that time of day, in the middle of nowhere?

I ordered my helicopter down in hovering about a kilometer westward, against both the sun and the wind in order to hide from the people in the jeep, and jumped down together with my aid, ordering the helos to orbit around until I called them back.

Then we started marching in the bushes towards the location of the car.

It was late afternoon, and the sun was merciful, thanks to the wind from south- east, which was taking inland the ocean breeze.

We reached a good observation ridge about two hundreds metres from the jeep, and set ourselves for the observation: my aid lay behind a bush to cover my back, and I positioned myself with the rifle and the observation binoculars next to me. I Connected the power, adjusted the range and light, and there the jeep was, as clear as from two metres distance. I switched the inner camera ready to shot.

I wanted to laugh. There was nothing bad going on: good girl Lisa was just at it in a safer spot than her own room.

Okay, I mounted a military action just to spot some sex going on in the bushes... It was outrageous, but since I was there, I had better taking something out of it. So I put myself at easy and looked on, in the best paparazzi tradition.

In the rear compartment of the open-top jeep, Lisa was laying with her head between Philippe's legs, clearly blowing him thoroughly, and the French guy was clearly enjoying his girlfriend's ministrations, his head moving around with closed eyes and open mouth.

Hamid was still sitting at the driver seat, apparently indifferent to what was taking place behind his shoulders.

Just as I was watching, the gunman stretched and slipped out of the car, moving around it clearly to check the immediate surroundings. For a moment I worried he might have seen us, but after a moment he just walked all around the car, searching for animals or other dangers in the bushes, and went back to the front, where he cleaned the windscreen.

Definitely, he was paying no attention to the two white lovers in the rear of the car.

Lisa's head was bobbing up and down, and her hand was pumping feverishly, while Philippe was caressing her blonde hair.

They must have been at it since we landed, so he had already got quite a workout: suddenly, I saw the guy stiffening, and Lisa's mouth swelling: Philippe was ejaculating in the girl's mouth, and she was trying to swallow all of she could...

She managed: only a droplet escaped from the corner of her eager mouth.

But the action was far from over: Lisa simply didn't stop blowing, and he kept on groaning happily, caressing the blonde head he was filling with his still quite stiff manhood.

Hamid checked out the jeep's tiers, and then he went at the radiator, checking the filters.

It went on for quite a while, but the girl had her own needs. Suddenly, she let go of him, stood, and got rid of her long skirt by quickly unbuttoning it open and throwing it on the front passenger's seat. Se wore no knickers underneath, and her glorious golden pussy shone in the sun for a moment, before she laid herself on her lover's lap, giving him her back and impaling herself his stiff pole.

From my vantage point, I could clearly see the long, slim and whitish cock sink into Lisa's golden curls, and the girl's head to fall back with an expression of ecstasy painted on her pretty face.

It was quite strange: although I got used to consider Lisa little more than a piece of meat, under a certain point of view she was somehow my piece of meat; so, I can't deny I felt a sting of jealousy at watching my "girlfriend" thoroughly fucked by the young French doctor.

After taking it all into her, Lisa started fucking herself on his dick, her tits bouncing widely under her still partially buttoned Sahara shirt. From behind her, Philippe grubbed her soft mounds and started rubbing the girl's thick nipples, while she was opening and closing her naked legs.

Since the boy came just minutes before, there was a good chance he could last for quite a while, and Lisa took no care in over stimulating him: she was really jumping up and down, taking full advantage of her lover's length.

Meanwhile, Hamid took another tour around their spot, while the shadows were getting longer and longer. Then, satisfied by the negative results of his check, he came back to the jeep, where Lisa was getting wilder and wilder, and climbed back on his seat.

The girl's shirt was now completely open on the front, and her tits were completely exposed; apart from it and the desert shoes, she was completely naked. Philippe's short trousers were down between his ankles, kept there by his desert boots, but he had got ridden of his own shirt, so he was also barely naked while getting rode by his wild partner.

I could hear Lisa's squeals from my covered position: I remembered her pussy as quite muscled and tight, and given Philippe's anatomy, even if he was probably not stimulating very much her vagina, he was probably hitting her cervix at each stroke, and that was clearly driving the girl crazy.

Then, unexpectedly the situation changed. I had been distracted by Philippe and Lisa's coupling, and lost track of Hamid; suddenly, he reappeared in my view field, standing on the passenger front seat and bending at the two fucking partners. He had stripped of his colorful shirt, and sported a massive erection out of his open fly.

Somalis aren't massive guys like most of the other black Africans: they tend to be tall and slim, and physically not specifically powerful. Some of them are shorter, but not broader. Well, Hamid was shorter and still slim, but the description didn't apply to his manhood: he was huge. At least as long as Philippe, but twice as thick, and definitely very hard as he aimed purposefully at Lisa's bouncing face.

He must have growled something, since she opened her eyes: she watched the enormous knob hanging in front of her nose, smiled delightedly, and without slowing her pace on her white lover, gobbled it into her mouth.

Now, my "girlfriend" was getting used by two different men, a black was fucking her face and a white man was taking her in the pussy. I must admit, I got excited. Definitely, Lisa had accepted my refusal to fuck her further, and got her appropriate countermeasures...

Pleased by two long cocks at one time, Lisa was having the time of her life.

I was feeling kind of a voyeur, looking at all that action taking place in the bushes, but on the other hand... I had a camera in my sight device, didn't I? And since they played dirty, why shouldn't I?

I snapped a couple of pics of Lisa blowing Hamid while riding Philippe. It turned out to be just time: after enjoying his blonde mistress' mouth for a few minutes, the Somali gunman clearly wanted more of her. He pulled out of her gorge, grabbed her by the arm and pulled her up on her legs.

Lisa didn't protest for the interruption: she knew what she was up against. She lay on the front seats, her legs on the passenger's and her head hanging down the driver's, and spread her thighs open for her second lover to fuck her.

Hamid positioned himself between the white girl's knees, pointed his large black knob at the gaping opening, and entered her with a single, smooth movement of his hips.

I saw Lisa's mouth opening, and a second later I heard her screaming: "Aahhh... Oh! Oh yeah, fuck me! Fuck me hard, you bastard... Oohhh!"

Poor Philippe was left on his own in the rear compartment, jerking off his juice-coated, unsatisfied cock and watching his girlfriend getting thoroughly fucked by her black bodyguard.

The girl closed her legs around the thug hips and planted her heels into the back of his thighs, to pull him as far deep into herself as possible, and grasped his hips with both hands, screaming out loud and tossing her head back and forth.

Realizing it was going to last for a while, Philippe paced down his onani activity and used his time to get rid of his trousers, remaining all naked, apart from his boots, then he stood behind the back of the seats, watching closing the nasty coupling taking place under his eyes.

Hamid went on a good fifteen minutes, changing neither position nor rhythm; Lisa in turn, never stopped moaning and crying with pleasure, far harder than when her white lover was screwing her.

I saw her tensing and arching at least twice under Hamid's body, screaming out her orgasm and thrashing about under his merciless pounding.

Then, finally, it was the Somali guy's turn: he stiffened, groaned loud, slammed himself into the white woman as deep as he could, and came catastrophically inside her womb, howling like an animal.

I couldn't believe it: Lisa was working with doctors in a high-risk region, and still she was allowing a local to shoot his semen freely inside her! The girl was even more stupid than I thought... I congratulated myself for not having put my intimate parts inside her since quite a long time by then.

Hamid kept Lisa's legs well spread, with Philippe helping him filling her by holding her right foot with a hand while jerking off with the other and passionately kissing her toes.

After emptying his nuts dry into his blonde master, Hamid pulled out and stepped down the jeep from the passenger side. Philippe bent over Lisa to French kiss her, but after a second of mutual eating the girl grabbed him by the hair and pulled him down her body, until his face sank into her cum-matted pubic hair.

The doctor got the hint, climbed over the back of the seat, and slipped his face between the girl's naked thighs. In a second, his mouth closed on her sloppy, cum-filled pussy, and he started eating the Somali's sperm leaking out of his girlfriend's freshly fucked slit.

Meantime, Hamid turned around the jeep, and reached over the driver side door, from where Lisa's head was still hanging.

She was moaning with pleasure at getting eaten out by her new boyfriend, and the black gunman found her mouth open and ready to receive his now-softened but still bulbous slimy knob.

Lisa almost choked getting the big, black cock into her mouth, but after a second of panic she started suckling it clean of her own love juices.

I thought they were done at that point, but no, they weren't. The two men were to exploit my former "girlfriend" body much longer...

Hamid fucked her face until his cock reached back its maximum stiffness, and Philippe didn't stop eating her pussy until he brought her to a new orgasm and cleaned her of all the cum her black fucker had placed inside her love box.

At hat point, the doctor helped the girl to finally rise from her rather uncomfortable position, and took her place lying on the front seats, his head lying on the driver side.

Lisa took his dick into her mouth and started sucking eagerly it back to full erection, while Hamid turned again around the car, stroking himself.

After blowing Hamid's giant cock, Lisa wasn't into giving head too long to her white lover: after getting it hard and stiff enough, the blonde went astride him, positioned the cockhead at her sloppy entrance and sat on it, impaling herself with a satisfied moan.

I watched her moving her hips, clearly accommodating the cock inside her cum-filled vagina, while the Frenchman cupped and stroke her beautiful, hanging breasts with his hands, massaging and squeezing them to her full satisfaction, until the girl bended to kiss full-mouth her lover.

Their tongues intertwined and played joyfully, while the man's hands moved to the girl's large buttocks, grabbing them and pulling them forward to start the coupling motion.

Feeling stimulated in her depths, Lisa broke the kiss, moaned with pleasure and started riding Philippe, slowly at first, and then accelerating progressively to a real charge rhythm.

"Ah... Ah... Ah... Oh yes! Yes... Yes... Hmmm..."

I could hear the sounds her pleasure at getting fucked, her full breasts bouncing back and fro just over the doctor's nose, who desperately tried to grab into his hungry mouth the swollen, pink nipples to suck them longer and thicker.

Hamid stood on the passenger side, jerking off just over Lisa's bouncing back. He was looking intently at the woman's open buttocks and at the white cock plunging into her fuckhole; I thought he just wanted to ejaculate over the junction of the two bodies, but once again, he proved me wrong.

While Lisa kept on riding her boyfriend with joyful squeals of delight, the black man bended over her back and lined up his weapon between her buttocks, aiming straight at the centre.
I couldn't believe it when I saw Hamid spit on his fingers and then lube Lisa's asshole with the smear of sweat and saliva: damnit, I hadn't fucked her in the ass! And now the whore was going to offer the damned Blackman something she wouldn't give to me...

Damn, I was feeling unreasonably jealous when Hamid pushed his large knob against the girl's sphincter and then grabbed her wide cheeks to pierce her into the ass.

Lisa jerked her head in terror, weaving her hair in the sun, and tossed backwards, screaming, "No! Not in my ass..."

But to no avail: Philippe was still holding her tight by the hips, unaware of what was happening behind, and Hamid had himself a firm grip at her sides, so he managed to dig his way into Lisa's virgin arse with a vicious, merciless and prolonged thrust.

"Uaaargghhh!!!" the girl cried out in agony, feeling ripped in her flesh as the swollen cockhead broke through her unprepared asshole and slammed into the unexplored depths of her burning rectum.

The Blackman grunted satisfied sinking into the blond girl's body, and started fucking her bowels with cruel, deep and slow thrusts, sodomizing her to his full satisfaction.

Philippe must feel the sudden intrusion of Hamid's large cock into Lisa's body, because he jumped and stopped his fucking tempo, trying to look on the side of her with a startled expression on his face. He saw the gunman doing his girlfriend from behind, realized what had just happened, and after a second to tune his movement with his pal, he joined him into sandwiching his American girlfriend.

I could see tears of pain in poor Lisa's eyes, as she got double-fucked by her badly assorted partners.

The whole jeep was bucking and bouncing at Hamid-imposed fucking tempo, and Lisa's yells of pain and pleasure came at the same rhythm, every time the black cock slammed in and the white one slipped out of her overstretched holes.

The girl was thrashing about uncontrollably, mercilessly sandwiched between her partners; Philippe was moving his long hands all over her naked body, caressing her smooth thighs, her sweating breasts, her contracted asscheeks, while Hamid just held her firmly by the hips, to better fuck her freshly deflowered shithole.

"Ah! Ah! Ah! Aahhh... You bastard, you're splitting me in two... Auch! Aahhh..." Lisa was screaming loud throughout all her ordeal, but by now she was not trying anymore to pull free by the double pounding she was getting under the African sun.

However broken, her two young holes had to be quite tight, with two cocks inside her belly, and the stimulation had to be extreme for the guys as much as for the lewd lady: soon, the two of them started groaning loud and tensing, sensing the fast approach of their own orgasms, and once again the black man got the upper side.

Hamid jerked, arched, stiffened and grunted like a pig, sinking his fingertips into the soft flesh of Lisa's buttocks, as he exploded into her inflamed insides.

"Yeaaaaahhhhhh!!!" Lisa whined like a mare on heat, feeling the black man's sperm seeding her barren bowels.

While Hamid emptied his balls into Lisa's ass, Philippe lost his moment and groaned in frustration, feeling somehow stuck at the very entrance of her fuckhole, being the other entrance now blocked full by the spasming black penis.

Finally, the gunman pulled out of Lisa's busted ass, and while Philippe sank once again into her sloppy pussy, he jumped from the car to turn around again to the driver seat side.

The doctor resumed immediately his rhythm, fucking his girlfriend from underneath while she lay disheveled on top of him, exhausted by her unnatural exertion: his cock pumping into her pussy was making her wide buttocks bump and bounce, showing quite clearly her wide-open, rippled and inflamed anus.

Without any respect for the girl he had just anally broken, Hamid grabbed her by the hair and purposefully aimed his still swollen and smelly prick at her face.

Lisa shut her eyes open and winched at the sight of that huge, blood- and shit- stained piece of black male meat, then instinctively opened her mouth again. Readily, Hamid engulfed her gorge with his softening, but still swollen sticky organ.

The girl gasped at the intrusion, almost choked on it, and then started eagerly sucking the dirty shaft empty of what was left of semen.

Fucked again both in her pussy and mouth, Lisa seemed to relive after her arse busting, and started blowing hard on the now rapidly softening black sausage, while her white lover was quickly recovering his pace inside her belly.

Hamid groaned happily and satisfied, as the white girl finished him off with her mouth; at the same time Philippe whined his own pleasure, and finally released himself inside Lisa's hungry belly.

She smiled happily, sensing her boyfriend orgasming inside her vagina, and bended on him eagerly, splashing her sweating, naked breasts on his hairy white chest and kissing him open-mouth.

Naughtily, Lisa openly spat into her lover's open mouth the mix of cum, blood and escrements she just sucked in from Hamid's black cock, so that Philippe got to taste it all while he was still climaxing into her pulsing cunt.

With Lisa's used body relaxing and cooling down, a yellowish trickle of dirty sperm started running out of her wrecked asshole, making a puddle on the passenger seat and drenching Philippe's spasming testicles.

The two lovers went on kissing and cuddling, oblivious of their black partner, which just looked at them, clearly satisfied at the sight of the white boy having to swallow his dirty sperm.

While their African partner moved away to the shadow of a tree to relax, Lisa and Philippe went on kissing each other, exchanging their juices from mouth to mouth and smearing each other's face while their hands roamed around their naked bodies.

It was time for me to call back the helicopters which were resting nearby, to finally go home with a film full with compromising evidence: I gave a quick call to the pilots, but suddenly I realized that, incredibly, it was not over.

Lisa stopped French-kissing her boyfriend, and started moving down his pale body, kissing his neck, nibbling his nipples, licking his navel, and finally reaching his groin, where she found his limp dick and readily swallowed it.

Philippe moaned almost in pain, but didn't complain too much: after a few blows from his lover, he placed the hands on her blond head and caressed her encouragingly.

Reassured on her boyfriend availability, Lisa went on giving head to him, blowing and sucking wantonly, until his erection started swelling again into her mouth.

When the white cock was stiff again, she raised her head and motioned Hamid to join them back on the car. With a wide, white smile on his pitch-black face, the gunman rose on his feet and reached again the jeep back compartment.

Down on her knees, Lisa started stereo-blowing the two standing males, who were soon groaning and shaking while wiping her hair and alternately pushing into her gorge.

One hand on the thin and hairy thigh of her white partner and the other on the smooth and muscled buttock of the black one, Lisa looked like a child in a candy shop, and the feeling of cum slowly oozing out her wrecked holes was only adding at her excitement.

Soon, both cocks were hard and stiff as pokers, but having both just ejaculated, gave no sign of imminent release and Lisa just went on eagerly feasting on her two private dicks.

But the idea of Lisa's just broken asshole must have inspired the young Frenchman, because he suddenly moved himself free of Lisa's mouth, pulled her up and positioned her against the front backseats, her cute large bum fully exposed to his eager eyes.

Her rippled sphincter rim was showing, open and swollen; a film of dirty cum was still trickling out of it, running down the girl's bare thighs.

Horny for the sight of his girlfriend's freshly busted asshole, Philippe grabbed her by the hips, planted himself on his feet, and suddenly impaled Lisa with his thin, stiff pecker.

"Aaghhh!" she screamed, jerking her head with pain, "Slow! Slow, it hurts! Oh my God, it burns so bad... Ah! Aahhh... But don't ever stop, please. Do me! Fuck my ass... Fuck me, please! Oh yes, fuck me hard. Hmmm..."

Her ass had been thoroughly opened and softened by Hamid's sperm, and Philippe's dick was far thinner than the black gunman's, so the young doctor found it quite easy to cornhole his girlfriend, while she found her second anal experience far less painful than the previous one, although probably far less fulfilling.

Her fulfillment was achieved though, when Hamid reached back her mouth by standing on the front seats and grabbed her by the ears: with a slow motion, he fucked his big black cock back into her gorge, groaning with satisfied lust.

A white cock in the ass and a black one in her mouth, Lisa was bucking back and fro, her tits hanging and bouncing wildly under the strokes of the two maddened men who were fucking her from both ends.

Damn it was hot: Philippe finally grabbed her bouncing soft breasts and pulled at them, increasing his pace. At the same time, Hamid let go of her mouth, leaving the girl free of screaming.

"Aahhh.... Aahhh... Yes, fuck my ass!" she gasped breathlessly, "Fuck my ass... Oh yeah! Fuck my ass... Do me hard... Hard... Aahhh... Aahhh..."

His large black erection shining with Lisa's mouth juices, Hamid moved back to the rear compartment, next to the two white lovers unnaturally coupling in a standing position against the front seats, and jerked himself feverishly.

I watched in disbelief, as Hamid suddenly grabbed the white boy and impaled him in the ass with a vicious single stroke.

Philippe ranted breathless, and then screamed in agony as the Blackman broke his ass open with his huge cock, only lubed by Lisa's thin layer of saliva.

"Aaghhh!" he gasped "Fuck, it burns..."

"Do not stop, you idiot!" Lisa snapped at him from the front of the naughty human train, "I'm almost there... Oh! Oh, yes, fuck me deep, please... I like it... I like it... Oh God, I like it so much... Oh! Oohhh..."

I had never seen anything like that, not even in porno magazines: it was like if Hamid was fucking Lisa's ass through Philippe's thin, pale body: the young doctor was taking it in the ass while filling another ass...

"Yeah!" the Blackman grinned while brutally fucking the naked Frenchman, "Oh yeah! I'm fucking your ass with your white boy dickey, Miss Lisa. Yeah! Oh yeah..."

The nasty double sodomy lasted quite a lot: both males had already emptied their balls into her, and the reckless girl had gotten absolutely sex-crazy. She was perfectly aware that their common lover was fucking her boyfriend in the butt, and apparently the extreme naughtiness of this was turning her even more on.

Lisa was panting and gasping at each and every stroke she was getting in her now fully rippled shithole, with one hand between her legs, her tits squeezed by her white lover, and the black one setting their overall fucking tempo by screwing mercilessly Philippe's pale ass.

"Oh my God," Lisa gasped, frantically frigging her pussy while getting fucked in the ass, "Oh my God I'm coming... Oh my God... Oh my Gaaaawwd-d-d!!!"

When Lisa finally exploded in her anal orgasm, Philippe stopped complaining and clearly enjoyed the contractions of his girlfriend stretched anus, almost forgetting the pain in his own broken one.

The total perversion of that unnatural mating seemed to last for ages, and Lisa came other two times before the black gunman shot his last wad of sperm into Philippe's bleeding rectum, and the Frenchman himself spewed his last drops into Lisa's already cum-filled one.

The two white youngsters collapsed onto the seats, still plugged at each other, while the black gunman laughed loudly, cleaning his bloodstained cock on Philippe's crumpled shirt.

"You got fun, white boy, uh?" he asked derisively, zipping up his fly and wearing back his shirt.

Then he went back at the driver seat, and started the engine, without caring of the two shaking, naked white bodies that lay disheveled next to him.

Damn, my "girlfriend" had gotten quite a workout! Her partners had equally filled her in both holes: sperm was going to leek out of her stretched rear ends for hours...

It was then that our two choppers suddenly arrived.

The Attack helicopter seemed surging from the sand behind the small hill, the engine silenced, and the air wash almost wiped the jeep away. The two well-fucked youngsters' clothes flow in a sand twister and disappeared.

Awaken by the shock, Lisa scrolled Philippe out of her ass and raised her arms to cover her face and show the pilot the color of her skin, as if to prove she wasn't a rebel, and poor Philippe fell out of the car, rolling naked into the sand with his sticky limp dick and his leaking, broken shithole.

I didn't take care of what happened next. My soldier and me just run for our Huey while our friends were busy with the Mangusta, jumped in and stripped on the belts.

In a minute we flow away in the dusk, leaving the three debouched lovers in the midst of the sandstorm provoked by our rotors.

We landed at the base on time for dinner.


The day after, WHA released an official complaint for the unjustified harassment by our Attack Helicopters against one of their columns.

I collected a selection of my best printouts and went to the compound.

Hamid was still on duty, his eyes red for the sand and the fatigue. Hell, it was worthwhile, considering the fun the fun the thug got before the choppers came...

"Hi Carolyn," I greeted her while entering the lounge: "I thought we had a radio link. You could contact me if you had any problem, before making it official."

Carolyn was sitting on the couch: she didn't raise nor offered her hand, and she looked quite pissed.

"Your helicopter almost killed our people," she stated: "We are doctors, and you are behaving like warlords in this land."

I smiled: "Hey, let's keep our roles: the NGO community is usually blaming the US helicopters, not on ours... We perform recce only, and if we see something suspicious going on, we close up to investigate."

"You don't know what happened there."

"Oh. Do you know?"

"Yes. Lisa was there, and she told me."

"Oh, how nice. Well, I happened to be there too... On one of the two recce choppers – not Attack one – and also happened to take a few nice pictures of what we saw, just to justify our intervention."

I handed over the pics.

Carolyn took them without a word.

The first one showed Lisa's jeep strolling in the bushes.

"What is suspicious about that?"

"Nothing," I said, "Go on."

She scowled and went to the second. It was similar, showing the jeep parked under the trees.

"Very dangerous," she commented.

I remained quiet. The third one showed Lisa, half naked, riding Philippe while blowing Hamid.

Carolyn froze, speechless. It looked pretty nasty, seen how the gunman was handling the girl's hair and forcefully fucking her head.

"First impression, this looked rape to us," I said.

Next one pictured the first sandwich: again, Hamid was on top, roughly handling the blond girl while clearly sodomizing her.

Carolyn gasped.

"At this point, we were determined it was rape, and I ordered to take action."

The last hard pic showed the second sandwich: Philippe was fucking Lisa, and Hamid was fucking Philippe.

Carolyn want pale.

"This has been taken just a few seconds before we jumped in," I commented: "We still had no doubts Lisa needed help. Would you think otherwise?"

No answer.

The last two pictures showed the airwash, with sand and clothes twisting everywhere, and the final run of Lisa, her bare boobs bouncing and her arms high up to signal herself. Hamid was still in the jeep, covering his eyes, and Philippe was lying naked in the dirt, his abused pale ass showing clearly.

"When she waved at us, we first thought she was asking for help," I commented, "Then she joined the driver, so we realized everything was OK, and we just left. We have no Rules of Engagement against gangbangs between consenting adults..."

Carolyn kept quiet for a few more moments, and then: "How many people saw this?"

"Only our national Chain of Command, as high as your complaint reached."

"No UN Chain of Command?"

"Nope. As you know, we are not at best odds."

"No Journalists?"

"Not yet."

"I see. Well, I suppose we will withdraw the complaint not later than this evening. Sorry to cause you troubles."

"Shit happens. Misunderstandings too."

"Can I offer a tea?"

I sat down next to her: "Why not? As long it's a nice cool one..."


She poured the cold drink in my cup and sat back. This time she crossed her legs, which showed nicely under the long, thin skirt.

"May I ask what happened between you and Lisa?"

I coughed, embarrassed: "Ehm, what do you mean?"

"I mean, you looked like hitting quite well at the beginning... And then, suddenly, you were like cat and dog."

"Well, let's say I don't like to be used."

"Oh, really?" Carolyn reached for her purse, and took out another picture: "Actually, who is using who, here?"

There it was: our nice evening orgy. The picture taken with flash in the darkness showed clearly me and Lisa on the terrace: she was half naked, and I was clearly screwing her from behind against the wall.

I smiled: "Nice picture. Do you have more like this?"

"No. But I suppose your superiors would not like this one either, would they?"

This time I laughed: "Carolyn, I don't belong to the US Army. If my superiors see this, they will congratulate me for finding a chick in the middle of this shit. I am not married, and this can have no consequences on my private life, while our rules are not opposing sexual intercourse as such, unless this affects the performance on duty, which is clearly not the case. You know, if our Prime Minister could ever boost an extramarital relationship with an actress, he would gain scores of votes. We are not Puritans... Sex is not such a sin for us."

Carolyn looked puzzled, if not appalled.

"Of course," I added intently, "It would be different had I fallen victim of the charm of a spy working against my Country... But that is not the case, is it?"

Now, Carolyn looked definitely dismayed: "Of course it's not. We are..."

"Of course. You are a humanitarian agency. And I have no prohibition to consummate a sexual intercourse with a girl from a humanitarian agency, so where is the problem? If we hit better, we could do it again... But we didn't. And for sure, we will not in the future. I don't like this much... Ehm, this much promiscuity." And I pointed at my pictures.

Carolyn sobbed: "I can't blame you for this... Well, at least, we clarified each other's. Friends?"

She was smiling now. Her skirt hem had lifted quite a bit by now.

I smiled back: "Carolyn, we have never stopped to be friends. As far as I am concerned, we have always been."

I let the meaning of my words sinking in, looking purposeful at her handsome if a bit worn face. Her legs were far better, but I was not there to get seduced again.

"Hmmm..." she hissed, "I was just wondering weather you might be more interested in a less inexperienced and less promiscuous partner..."

Definitely very nice legs, amongst the longest I ever saw.

"Maybe another day, Carolyn," I smiled again, "I've better to report about the closing up of our harassment case, now."

"I see. May I keep your pictures?"

"If I can keep yours. My Commander and comrades will love to see it!"

I left, and Hamid gave me a long, deep look when I passed him.

Time was going on, and our whole contingent was reorganizing. ENI was leaving the country, and rumors were that also our Brigade would not stay forever.

I was driving south along the Imperial Road to Bulo Burti to prepare our redeployment there in view of the arrival of a new Regiment, and for once we hadn't two vehicles to move, but only one jeep, with my driver and two Carabinieri as an escort.

The whole road between the two towns is absolutely straight and flat, apart from a single hill, which peaked with a few rocks and an abandoned wrecked house, where the road bended abruptly, drastically reducing visibility.

It was, actually, your most typical location for an ambush.

And ambushed we got.

My radio started creaking while we were driving up the slope, but the signal was very bad. I managed to get a female voice croaking something in English with an alarmed voice, which just worried me enough to be more present just one second later.

Our jeep just reached the summit of the slope, where the road went through two big rocks, and some idiot shot at us.

One, two times.

We were driving relatively slow after the slope, and were an easy target, but we were also in the best condition to react.

I can't explain exactly what happened. I just know that one of the Carabinieri in the rear compartment screamed something, the tiers squeaked badly on the old tarmac, and a second later I was crawling on the roadside, my rifle in the hands, trying to understand where the shots came from.

A quick burst: AK-47, the most renowned Kalashnikov. Two of them... No, three.

Behind the rocks, to the right.

"Captain, cover me!"

A second to react: fucking slow, but enough. One of the Carabinieri jumped from beside me and run for the nearest rock.

I shot two bullets straight over his head against the side of the rock to cover him.

He made it.

Then he gestured me to reach him, and I run for safety.

I heard other shots behind me, and understood the other two were shooting from behind the jeep to cover me.

Oddly, the ambushers weren't behind both rocks, in order to take us from both sides of the road, but were all behind the western one, just on the right of the side from where we came from.

A burst cheered me while I run, but ended up quite high. Another came once I was safe behind the rock. Too late.

OK, I was well protected now, together with a Carabinieri; the other one with the driver were less safe, just behind the jeep, which isn't such a protection.

"To the house!" I hissed over the wind, aimed at the wreck with my rifle muzzle.

Just that moment, another burst swept next to the jeep.

Too dangerous: they couldn't make it to the house.

I looked at the rock: it could be climbed on. I grew in the Alps, I am a climber.

So I moved upward, as fast as I could.

Another burst, I do not know where.

Somebody swore.

It was taking too long. Fuck, I remembered, I've got two hand grenades. Assault ones, little more than shock, but hand grenades.

Took one, pulled out the safety, checked the distance, and threw it over the edge of the rock.

One second, two, three...


Screams in Somali language, rolling of stones, panting, somebody who runs, another burst of Kalashnikov.

I run up and somebody run besides me.

Another couple of single shots, both from Berettas.

My boys were at the house, sound and safe, and now they could shoot at the side of the rock I was climbing over.

The safe angle for the attackers was getting smaller and smaller; the Carabinieri who jumped with me was making it for the other side of the rock, and soon our ambushers would have been in trouble.

Or we would be, if there were too many of them.

The summit of the rock was just three metres away; I threw the second grenade.


It was the first time in my life two out of two grenades went on without malfunctioning... Maybe it was good I was aiming at hard stone.

God bless Breda, I thought, while jumping up the rock, my hart pulsing hard in the throat.

And suddenly, I was at the top; nobody was there waiting for me. The idiots were down on the far side of the stone block, just metres from my isolated Carabinieri...

Three of them. No, four.

Four fools.

I aimed my old 7.62 FAL.

The idiots were all clustered together; one of them shot another burst, using the Kalashnikov like a hose.

Just a second to think of life and death, then I pulled the trigger.

Less than twenty metres distance, from high ground, against a fixed, large target. Impossible to miss.

I didn't.

I saw blood erupt from a body, the mass of bodies waved like a flock of blackbirds, somebody howled, the others screamed hysterically.

A body fell to the ground, a large pool of blood widening under his sobbing frame.

The others all turned at me; one shot.

Far high.

I shot a second time, aiming at the central and closer man.

Got him in the middle of the chest, and it was like seeing him explode. His body was lifted by the power of the impact and thrown a metre back, spraying blood in a wide arch before falling down on his back, the arms and legs convulsing in agony.

The other two screamed out, and one threw the rifle and run; the other just run.

I shot again and missed. Too bad.

My Carabinieri emerged from behind the rock, his modern Beretta 5.56 at the ready, saw the running guys and shot.

The two idiots were running away from the only cover, down the hillside, completely uncovered.

Like birds on the pole.

I couldn't believe they were so stupid. The most naïve of the ambushes, then the clumsiest of the close fights, and now the most idiotic of the disengagement attempts.

"Alt! UNOSOM!" I screamed, according to the Rules of Engagement.

They run.

I screamed again my warning, and the Carabinieri shot in the air.

The armed guy turned and shot a burst while still running.

The burst was high, but the Carabinieri replied with a single shot, and got him right in his belly, causing him to twist, fall, bump and roll down the hill in a mess of dust and rolling stones for at least fifty metres.

No visible blood this time: 5.56s pierce you without the splatter effect of 7.62s, but they weight less and you can carry much more ammo.

When the dust fell, there was no movement, nor noise. Probably a broken neck had put an end to his sufferings.

The last guy was unarmed, and run like a gazelle down the slope.

He fell like a hippo however, and rolled down catastrophically in another cloud of rubble and dust.

Somehow, he rose again and resumed his flight.

I aimed at him, wondering weather to shot on a running unarmed guy who just tried to kill me, when I saw a spark and then dust covered him as he jumped and fell down.

"Land mine!" my Carabinieri shouted loud, to make sure none of us was moving out of the road area.

Dust dissipated and I could see the guy lying next to a small hole in the ground, tossing and screaming out in pain. He was missing the whole right leg from the knee down.

Combat was over. It lasted less than three minutes.

I breathed hard.

I rose and joined the first Carabinieri where the two bodies lay down the rock, and the other two boys reached us there.

I looked down: the first one I took in the back of the left shoulder. The whole arm had been pulled out almost completely, and was still connected only by the drenched cloth; he was still moving and shacking a bit, but blood was flowing out so fast that it was a matter of minutes.

"Well done, Captain," cheered the second Carabinieri, who had seen the scene of my shooting from the wrecked house, "Good shot!"

I breathed hard, and the man in the dust stopped breathing that moment.

I just killed my first enemy.

"Go back to the jeep, the two of you," I ordered: "And keep the eyes open, there may be more idiots around."

"Right on, sir," he said, and walked away with the driver, mumbling something about the stupid animals living in those goddamned bushes.

The second I shot was cold dead. I got him right in the middle, and he fell on his back, in the largest pool of black blood I have ever seen: the 7.62 bullet had mashed his hart, and he probably died before hitting ground.

"Again, good hit Sir," smiled the Military Policeman next to me.

I said nothing.

It was Hamid.

He lay with wide-open eyes, a trickle of dark blood flowing out of his mouth, and there was no mistake at identifying him as the WHA gunman.

"Documents," I ordered the Carabinieri next to me.

Nothing to do about the other two thugs: you never enter a minefield if you don't have to; and we didn't.

The guy who hit the mine was whining desperately, but there was no hope for him... The last one was not ever making sounds, not after a bullet and his drop downhill.

"Sir, his papers," the MP told me, offering the bleeding documents out of Hamid corpse.

The drenched sheets were in Somali, but there was a small, plasticized WHA card in between.

So, that it was.

"Sir, shall we go?"

"Just a moment."

That whining was troubling me. I couldn't leave that idiot to die that way. I climbed back the rock to get a better view, aimed and shot a few bullets. It wasn't easy, he was at least three hundreds metres away, but our old FAL was precise almost as the venerable Garand M-1 from which it was developed, and at the fourth shot the whines abruptly ceased.

This time, nobody commented on my marksmanship.

Back to the jeep, I found my radio still croaking a female English voice.

"Hello, Captain Serra speaking," I called.

"Bob! Oh Bob, it's Carolyn here. Finally you hear me. Bob, pay attention please... We just fired Lisa's driver after talking to her, and he left shouting that you had to pay for it. Be careful, we hired him because he was known to be fearless and determined."

I didn't know weather to laugh or cry, so I just breathed deep before answering: "I know Carolyn We just killed him and three friends of him. But thank you anyway for the warning. It's nice to hear it wasn't you who send him to do the job..."

We slept in our camp in Bulo Burti, after reporting the ambush to the Regiment and to the Brigade. Nobody liked the story, but I used the crypto to relay the background to the G2 Cell down at the Embassy, pointing out that WHA did their best to warn us of the danger.

We had been lucky that the Somalis are far more aggressive than capable fighters, and lucky enough that they have far more guts than brain when it comes to set an ambush and shoot to kill.

As it turned out by the ensuing enquiry, the four fools had probably been surprised themselves by our arrival, likely because they set no sentry, so they were totally unprepared, but still they were so filled with chat that they started shooting anyway, flashed by their Delirium Omnipotentie, the peculiar effect of that popular drugs. The same trigger of most fighting in Somalia...

Think of the shit stuff is not even classified as drugs by WHO...

On the other hand, nobody is doing anything against ritual female castration either.


I think my youth as such died on that hill in the desert, the 10th of September 1993. Since then, I have been quite a different man. Disillusioned, more self-confident, a bit bitter when it comes to mankind maybe, but not a sad character, nor a cold, ironic veteran like novels and movies love to picture soldiers back from war after watching the white, cold eyes of the people they killed.

I did see the cold, white eyes of people I killed, but I was and I am aware I had to kill them because I wanted to survive, yes, but also because they were, basically, too stupid to survive.

Darwinism, essentially.

I will live as happily as I can, trying to defend innocents and to keep idiots like those I killed in Somalia as far away as possible from my own folks and our friends.

When I made it back to the WHA a full week later, another gunman opened the gate and waved me to the lounge.

Carolyn greeted me with a smile that looked sincere for the first time since I first met her.

We shook hands, and she had me accommodated in the couch, sitting in front of me, without any attempt to seduce me this time.

"A beer?" she offered.

I smiled: "A cold tea will do, thank you. What happened?"

I got her story: after I left her with the pictures, Carolyn had confronted Lisa, asking her about the affair with Philippe and, most of all, with Hamid. Lisa had broken almost immediately, telling her about the frustration of being incapable to seduce me as completely as she believed she could, about her meeting Philippe at Save the Children, and them getting quickly intimate. As for Hamid, the Blackman had always intrigued her, but nothing had ever happened, until they ended up in the bushes, where he had taken advantage of her lust and of Philippe obvious perversion.

After the confession, Carolyn had simply called the gunman in, and fired him on the spot. The guy had left shouting, but came back with friends a couple of days after, threatening his old pals at the gate and shouting outrages in Somali, which the interpreter had gotten and reported, so Carolyn had gone to our camp as soon as she could, to warn us. I wasn't there, and she couldn't communicate with my people, so just went back to the radio and tried to contact me.

I told my side of the story, and Carolyn looked quite horrified.

"Damnit, Bob, I am so sorry. It's so difficult to hire the right people in our job... And I am not talking about Hamid."

I smiled sympathetically. I could imagine.

"I am sorry. Lisa looked like a good young recruit, fit for her job. My only excuse is that it wasn't me to choose her ...'

"Where is she now?"

"On an airplane, on her way back to Denver, Colorado." Carolyn sobbed, and then added: "Don't be angry at her, she got much more punishment she deserved, poor girl. She will get free intensive care, but is marked forever, in the best case. She's turned out to be HIV positive after the last test."

I gulped: "Oh my God... Hamid?"

Carolyn shook her head: "Philippe. Or maybe they infected each other after being with Hamid... We will never know, unless we can check Hamid's blood. Does it matter?"

"When did she get the last negative test?"

"One month ago. Are you worried?"

I breathed: "No, not really. We did it the last time more than a month and a half ago... No, I am not worried, but I'll take a test anyway at our field hospital."

"You can get it here and now, if you want."

I looked at her and smiled bitterly.

She looked back at me, and asked plainly: "Would you trust me on that?"

I thought of it for a moment, and then I shrugged: "What the hell, if you say so, of course I will trust you! A soldier needs to believe in something like friendship and comradeship... And we are supposed to be friends and allies, don't we?"

Carolyn got my blood in a sample and took it to the lab.

"It will be a matter of a few days. We will give it maximum priority."


"May I do something else for you?"

I thought of it. And I thought of my nice words about friendship and comradeship.

"Actually, there is one thing. Carolyn, I think it would be fair if I could get the negatives of those pictures from the party."


"No. The ones with our two "cousins". They are quite in deep shit, and don't deserve it."

Carolyn looked at me with a strange expression.

"You are an idealist," she said.

"No. But I believe in what I say, and fight for what I believe in."

She nodded, and left for a few minutes.

When she came back, she had two films.

"Do you know them well?"

"No, not really. But they are comrades of mine. Like your guys down in Moga. And we stand together in this shit."

"Do you believe they would do the same for you?"

"I like to think they would."

Carolyn smiled: "I stand right. You are an idealist."

I shrugged and offered my hand.

Carolyn kept the films: "Tell me why I should do it."

I smiled: "It would make you feel better."

"And stupid."

"Maybe. Better feeling well and stupid than bad and smart."

The woman sobbed and handed me over the two films.

I smiled: "Thank you, Carolyn. Oh, another thing. Our ENI prospections team will leave Moga tomorrow. They finished the entire drilling program and got absolutely no results. There is no oil, in this goddamned desert."

She smiled bitterly: "Oh? Why do you think this may be interesting for me?"

I shrugged: "You helped me. So I feel like helping you."

Another smile, far more bitter: "The world doesn't work like that, Bob."

"Maybe yours doesn't, Carolyn. Mine, it does."

I got no answer to that.

We rose, and when she offered her hand, I shook it warmly.

"Oh, another thing. Carolyn, please have my file updated. You know: I got engaged just before coming to Somalia, and I plan to get married within a year. She is a Dutch girl, her name is Karin, and I am very much in love with her. It was a hard game, to play with you..."

They did update my file.

I discovered it two years later, in Bosnia.


I am fully aware I made a few of potentially controversial statements... Please keep in mind this was just the point of view of a guy who has been there and saw a few things. I know I may sound cynical and disillusioned, and maybe I am. I probably also developed strong feelings towards some cultures and beliefs...Basically I am just another soldier serving his Country overseas and trying to do his best for the Western civilization, like so many other American and European colleagues and friends. Please feel free to criticize the story, the language and the opinions, only don't tell me I am a racist: I am NOT, as you will hopefully find out soon!

confidential   somalia  

Jun 12, 2018 in anal