Gunnery Sargent Terrence "Cade" Shaw, USMC, was utterly having a bad day. In the
life of a Marine MP, he had to deal with a lot of unpleasantries from his closest
friends.

In front of him, on his desk, he was processing the reams of paperwork on one
Corporal Lampton, a good friend of his.  That good friend has gotten drunk at the
NCO club and started a small riot.  He and one other jar head started a friendly
wrestling match and as the drinking progressed, the match got less friendly.  The
contest quickly evolved into a team event. New contestants voluntarily, or
involuntarily, joined in.  At the end, Lampton did a couple of grands of damage
to the bar and other members of the Mother's Lean, Mean and Green Machine.  This
boy had to get himself under control.  Yeah, too bad that Lampton was Cade's best
drinking buddy and had gone through the great Hathcock's sniping school in ë69 on
Hill 55. Also that s.o.b. really packed a mean hook.	Cade still had a black
eye to prove it.  Well, it didn't show very much because Cade was as black as you
were going to get in the Beloved Corps. Besides, it was too embarassing to
himself and to his friends to advertise it.  Just as well.

Now that Nam is over Cade and the rest of the warriors just moped about under the
gutless CIC's (Commander in Chief) new direction, unappreciated for the blood
they had shed, rejectd by the country that once supported them.  Now, the images
of the raghead terrorists parading the good people from the Embassy in Tehran
blasted out of TV tubes across  America.  He even knew some one who had just
transferred out of that  Tehran duty before the shit hit the fan.

"Luck for Johnson," he whispered.  Then jumped to his feet with a start and stood
stiffly.  "Sir!"

"Poof, you're dead, sniper.  If I were Ngueyen Schwartz, you'd be dead, soldier."
 Capt. Morris remarked, "At ease, gunny, I was just a-shittin' ya. Cade, ya gotta
take care of your shit, man.  Or ya gonna bleed out real quet in Indian Country. 
Remember who told me that?"

"Sir, aye-aye, sir.  I said that garbage, sir."  Cade was standing stiffly at
attention now, cursing at himself for his lapse.  It was just that things at home
with Miriam was not working out too well.  But he had too much pride to go into
marriage counseling.	He wanted kids and she did not and that was that.  Though
he tried to bury himself in his duty but he was failing in both endeavors.

"At ease, Cade.  Yeah, I was green as 12 year old virgin pube.	You plucked my
ass out of the weeds more than a few times back in the them days.  I just hate to
see you waste away like this, man.  We PARDNERS, right?	You can tell me that
this ain't none of my fucking business and fly it up an alley somewhere.  But I
am gonna say it anyway....."

"Sir?"  Cade didn't know exactly what was coming but could roughly guess.

"Patch it up, man.  Patch it up with Miriam at home.  You know what day it is,
Cade?"  The Captain let the significance of that sink in.

"Sir?  Oh, shit, I mean, Oh, damned, I....."  Cade just stammered.

"That's right, well put, Cade.	You always amaze me with your total command of
English language.  It is your third anniversary with Miriam. I know that your ass
is married to the Corps and the Corps loves you back. But, man, take the rest of
the fucking day off and do that marriage thing." Captain winked at his friend
mischievously.  "Like I said, take care of business at home and the business here
will take care of itself."

"Sir, I got work...."

"Bullshit, you ain't got shit here.  You are loopy as a VC gooner on opium. You
aren't doing me no favor here."  Morris nearly screamed and then eased off on his
friend, "You want me to drag you by your balls back to Miriam and have you ask
her for her forgiveness?  I don't think so." Just for emphasis.  "I don't want to
see your ass back here until 0800 on Monday, you hear that?  That is an order
from you C.O.  Don't you disobey it!"

"And here, just in case if you've forgotten."  Morris handed Cade a small
gift-wrapped box.  "Make like a fast tracking, outbound Airscout and get your ass
on home."

Cade wanted to refuse the gift.  After, it was his responsibility to remember the
important dates in his life.  Why was it that he could remember the date that a
two star handed him a Navy Cross for valiant conduct and he couldn't remember his
anniversary?  But the Captain was right.  "Aye-aye, Captain." Cade clicked his
heel and saluted his perfect Gunnery Sargent, USMC salute.



Miriam was sprawling naked over her bed.  She had just finished round one with
her lover.  She was not satisfied yet.  She knew that he could provide more to
her.  He had too or he wouldn't be here.

She purred, "Are you ready to get some more of this?"  She rubbed her hand
seductively from her breast to her pubes.  "Come to Mama.  C'mon, your big stud."
 She urged on with her sexy voice.

He chuckled, "what are you trying to do, kill me?  Hey, babe, here comes Johnny."
 In his best Ed McMahon imitation.

He haul her half out of bed and let her bend over the foot board, "You are such a
hot bitch, you know?  You are so damn hot.  I am gonna unload on you."

"Oh, baby, you talk the talk but you walk the walk?"  Miriam begged.

"Ask for it, slut.  You ask for it."  He commanded.

"Yeah, do me....yeah, from behind, yeah.....just like this."

He inserted his full length into her doggy style and started pumping with all his
might.  His right hand grabbed his belt and made a loop with it. He hissed at
her, "I am gonna collar you, you hot bitch!"  He wrapped the belt around his
lover's neck and started moving her entire torso with that restraint.

"Ahhhh!"  Miriam screamed at the top of her lungs.  "Touch me, you damn son of a
bitch.  Touch my clittie.  Ahhhhh!"

Her lover obliged.  She screamed while his left index finger did circular motions
over her engorged clit, his right hand moving rhythmically with the pumping of
his lower body.	She was alternating between gulping down air vast quantity of
air and shrieking out her lungs.  She was getting a hell of an aerobic exercise.



Cade pulled into the driveway in his brand new 1980 Ford Mustang.

"Hmm, that's strange."  Cade chatted to himself.

The front door to his small ranch style house was partially ajar.  This place was
not exactly the nicest part in Orange County.  However, it was close to the El
Toro base.  The crime rate just didn't compare with the rest of the affluent
county that featured the Disney Land.  He got out of the car and picked up the
L.A. Times in the driveway.  He had gotten out too early this morning to get the
paper.  Now under the order of his CO (Commanding Officer), he could read the
paper and catch up on the Lakers.


Then he heard a sound emanating from his house.  That sounded like Miriam.

"Yeah, that was Miriam and she was screaming.  Oh, shit, fucking intruders!" 
Cade's mind went into hyperdrive.

Before Cade's mind clicked his body was already on the move.  His M1911A1 sidearm
was at ready and he busted through his front door and stopped dead in his track
in front of his bedroom door.  He was shocked at what he saw.

"Whaddafuck!"  The simply expression often gave the most apt description of an
unexpected, bizarre situation.

Miriam was naked the bent over the queen size bed and a man, a fucking rapist,
equally naked, had a belt looped around Miriam's neck and still had his penis up
Miriam's snatch.  Cade thought that he would've laughed at the expression on that
man's face, except it wasn't funny.  This man was fucking his wife, fuck!  Cade
silently rooted for the rapist to pull out so he could use his Distinguished
Marksmanship in removing his pecker.

Then time stopped, Miriam screamed, "OH MY GOD, DON'T HURT GREG, IT WASN'T HIS
FAULT."

Cade's mind went blank and everything was clear.  The marital problem. Miriam had
been so withdrawn in the past few months of his marriage.  He touched her in bed
and she just squirmed away.	He just stared blankly and his mind replayed
moments in his marriage.	It was all over now.  It had to be.  "It couldn't be.
 No!  What had I done to deserve this!"  His mind raged.

Then Cade caught in the corner of his eyes that  "Greg" was reaching for
something and his reaction was automatic.  The pistol came up and two rounds went
through his chest and the next five rounds went through the combined heap of
Miriam and rapist.  He stood up the looked over the fallen bodies and saw that
Greg was merely reaching for his trousers, U.S. Navy trousers.

"Oh, fuck, he wasn't going for a weapon, oh, shit!"

"Oh, fuck, what have I done, what have I done, what have I done....."

Cade just sat down on the floor and looked across the room at his recently
departed wife and her lover and repeated the same thing over and over. The pool
of blood began to trickle towards Cade.  But he didn't move.  He sat like a
stature and just murmured the same sentence.

Next thing Cade heard were the blaring sirens.	They quickly grew in intensity
and Cade walked out of his front door to greet his destiny.  He was sitting in an
expanding pool of blood of both his wife and her lover. "Wooden floor did such a
poor job of stemming the flow."  He knew that he couldn't live on.  His life,
whether dead or alive, was over.

He got out to the drive way just as the first police black and white pulled up.
He looked at the young officers in the car and waved numbly at the squad car. 
Then, in a smooth motion, he jammed his side arm into his mouth and pulled the
trigger.  He simultaneously heard the hammer drop and some one shouted, "Shit!"



What a lousy time it was for the weapon to misfire.  Maybe his trusty side arm
wanted to save its master.  Well, nothing else wanted to.  Cade blacked out after
he pulled the trigger.  When he woke up, he was embroiled in a nightmare.  He
learned that he had shot a Naval aviator named Gregory Olsen, Lieutenant, US
Navy.  And his buddies wanted blood, all that Cade got.  Those lousy F-4 drivers.
 They should've know what their buddy did for recreation, banging a fellow
comrade's wife.  "A married woman!	Wasn't that against the Code? Fucking
jerks."  Cade thought bleakly.

The Corps went to bat for him.	But that wasn't enough.  His attorney, some
Naval turd Second Lieutenant, wanted him to beg for clemency from the military
court, citing the mitigating factor.  "Yeah, right, I am gonna take it a Marine,
not a pussy sailor."  He was no longer resigned to fate.  He was angry at every
one, especially the naval types.  He was meeting with another batch of attorneys.
 He didn't want the damn Navy ones.  And that was what he got.

"Sargent, I am Smith and this here is Clark.  We have heard about you case and
are very sympathetic to your plight.  We are ready to help you if you are."  The
man in Army battle fatigue began, no rank, no insignia, nothing.  His partner,
Clark, was dressed in polyester, a civilian type, but looked the part of a real
tough bastard.

"We are going to ask you a few questions about you.  Please answer them as
truthfully and candidly as you can."  Smith went on.

Cade thought, "Who are these clowns?  That Clark fellow, that look, who does he
work for?"

Smith set out a folder in front of Cade and got a tape recorder going. He waved
off the sentry in the jail cell, a private without a word and asked, "How are
your parents, Sargent?"

"My father passed away when I was in Nam, heart problem and mother lives in a
convalescent home."  Cade answered.  And silently, "And fuck you guys, you know
my parents are goners so why did you ask?  Let's get down to business."

After a series of questions about Cade's personal life, of which he had none
outside of Miriam and the Corps, well, now that Miriam was no longer with him,
nothing, they asked about his feelings in sniping off Viet Congs.	He spoke
candidly about the emotion of killing his enemies from afar and illustrated with
details from a few declassified stalks of his 43 confirmed kills.

At the end, Smith folded up his folder but left the tape recorder running.  He
looked over to Clark, who sat silently through this interrogation and Clark
nodded back.  Smith offered, "We believe that we can help you, Sargent.  But you
will have to make some sacrifices in your life.  Do you accept?"

Cade suddenly felt like he was about to sign a pact with the devil.  He was both
wary and worried, "You folks are not from the CIA, are you?"

Clark chuckled and spoke for the first time, "What makes you say that?" He pulled
up the left sleeve of his sport coat and Cade saw the bottom half of a seal
tattoo.	"So what would it be, Mr. Shaw?"