Bihac FOB

Mark was sitting on the back porch of the small building that housed the office and living spaces for the intelligence team for the Kladusa and Bihac areas. Bihac, it was pronounced BEE-atch and, yes, almost every US Troop wanted to work in BEEatch. Mark had not been happy about being taken from Prijedor and Banja Luka. He was not happy about being up in the Bihac Pocket. He also wanted to run his own team. Sure, he was a Second Class Petty Officer, a junior NCO for the Navy. He also looked at his leadership training and experience from when he was in the Army. Hell, an E-5 in the Army was an NCO and had the respect and responsibilities of an NCO. In the Navy, he was considered a junior NCO and not affprded the same respect or authority. It also had other amenities that spoke of it being a newer construct. Josie stepped out onto the porch area. She was wearing some light cotton shorts and a loose t-shirt. On second glance Mark noted that she was wearing one of his t-shirts. That made him smile.

Josie was not smiling. She had too many things on her mind. Their relationship was the topmost. After the fight last weekend Mark kept his head down around the office, so to speak. She was glad to see that he wanted to avoid staff officers here until things had quieted down.

While the sex was great, Josie felt that it was becoming too much for both of them. Although she wouldn't admit it, even to herself, it was becoming too much for her, too. Their relationship was becoming too close for either of them to handle and do their jobs properly. Bosnia was still a hostile fire zone and still dangerous. There were armed patrols out regularly, but, for the intelligence collectors, it was different. They were largely on their own. Two operators, an interpreter, and some emergency supplies in their vehicle. They only had their personal weapons. For most teams this was two 9mm pistols.The distraction factor that was developing between Mark and Josie concerned her. Mark, too, was mulling these same things over.

Mark stood up and stepped to the railing. Buster, the house mutt, raised his head to watch Mark then put his head back down. Josie put her feet up on the railing. They were quiet for most of the evening, saying almost nothing to each other.

Even though he did not want to have this conversation he felt better about opening it up than haveing it opened on him.“I don't know why I let my feelings take control. It's like something else comes crawling up out of me.”

Josie took her time in responding. She was thinking back to her observations of Mark as a field operator. He often stepped up to take charge, was protective of the team, and looked after thiings as a good Sargeant would. Sometimes, too many times, he got overly protective of what and who he was calling 'his team'. “I know, Mark,” she paused for a few seconds. This was a quality that was both good and bad for anyone, not just an NCO. It concerned her now for the obvious reason of one fight.

Josie gets up from her chair and moves behind Mark. She quietly considers his body, looking him up and down. She knew every inch of the back of this man. He was powerful. The shoulders and back were broad and thick. She had watched him lifting when they were in Sarajevo together. Now, as then, she marveled at this man. Josie reached out as if to touch him, but stopped short.

“You have got to keep yourself under control. Not just at parties, but also in the field.” She wanted to see him get into a leadership role in the field, but that was never going to happen if they stayed together and if he lost his temper again. “Your time in the Ary and B-NOC make you uniquely qualified as a leader her and in the Navy.” B-NOC was how it was pronounced, what it was was an Army training acadaemy for noncommissioned officers, NCOs. The Navy had some leadership courses, but those were more administrative duties than fundamentals of actually leading younger enlisted. “That leadership will never happen if you get into another fight. I'm a big girl and I can take care of myself.”

Mark lowered his head and stared at the ground. Being protective, jealously so, of someone who he was not supposed to be involved with was something that he would have to avoid at all costs if this was to carry on at all. But, he did not know how to do that. “I suppose that's why they call it 'making love,' the feelings come once the sex is happening.” He sighed heavily, still looking towards the ground. “I simply want to enjoy the time we have and what we can share.”

Josie lowered her hand onto the small of his back. “Me. too, but we have to be very careful.” No, she had to make some distance happen. She was feeling the same things. She was enjoying his body as well as his tenderness. Yes, she was admitting to herself that he was becoming more and more distracting. Josie squeezed Mark in a gentle one armed hug and turned away. Walking through the kitchen her bare feet made no sound. The kitchen floor creeked. That little creek let Mark know precisely where Josie was.

“Josie, I know that you are risking as much as I am with 'us', and, yeah, I do have a possessive streak.” He was thinking also about taking command of a collection team himself. He had heard the banter and discussions going on in Captain Lathrop's office. One benefit of these trailer offices was that sound traveled decently. “I also know that there is talk about putting me into The Cray Norseman's slot.” The only response was another squeak from the kitchen floor. Mark knew Josie had left the kitchen.


(C) Copyright Marcel Trepanier 2013