"He seems to be a nice guy," the older of the cops said."Yeah he does. All us old retired military types are pretty good people." I replied."I got to ...agree with that, at least as long as you are sober." he agreed. Then he added, "Well we need to get back on the street." Well be careful all kinds of bad shit out there these days." I said."No amount of scrubbing can wash some of the stink off," the other one agreed."So where did you get that bike," the chief asked."It's a long story and I really. The guys carried me back to the base where I had another meeting scheduled with Drs Rich and Moore. We talked three hours about everything, how I felt, my expectations, what I was going to do. They were amazed at how relaxed I looked. If they only knew!They were interested if I was going to re-enlist. I said, "No, not even if I got another promotion." I had been in the sandbox too long. We will always be at war in the sandbox. They agreed and gave me a list of numbers for help if I needed it. The major bits, shrapnel from the RPG, and stone chippings from the rock face where the grenade had exploded behind me, had been taken out, but the medical facilities at the 'Uzbek Hilton' although first class, didn't have the equipment required for what would have been micro surgery to remove those microscopic bits.The Harley Street man sent me for a full body scan, and on examining the results decided the foreign bodies were not causing the weakness in my leg, or anything else detrimental to. I hate the thought of it as much as you do." So why don't we stay here a little longer?" Because. A little becomes a little more, and that goes into another hour. Then it gets out of hand." Pick me up when you stand and take us to the bathroom. It's right there in the hallway." Hold on, Lynn. I don't want to drop you."I stood with my hands under her ass, embracing it as I unintentionally held its cheeks apart. She cooed, feeling me lumber with the unbalanced satisfaction of a man who got his.