Preparing the clusterfuck

The Americans were bringing in some additional supplies. They were determined to give the Russians a well-aimed blow and reducing their number of T-90 tanks significantly. In order to be able to surprise them, they offered us Ultra-Lightweight Camouflage Screens (ULCAS). They would hide our camps and AT-people from heat detection. That way we should be able to get a lot closer to the Russians before shooting our fire and forget anti-tank missiles. By the time they figured out where the missiles came from, we would be long gone.

They must have some additional intel resources in the Russian Army, as they were almost certain the Russians would be coming here. They gave our AT-crews extra training in concealment, recognizing targets from shorter distances, plus coordinating target selection with multiple platoons, using extra com-sets.

I was present during those trainings, in my capacity as team leader for Peter, Jon and Tom, as well as coordinator in preparing to the best of my capabilities the multiple locations from where the different platoons would attack and retreat to secondary attack positions. It would be risky, frightening even to be so close to the enemy for the first time. We would be attacking only at the last possible moment, just after the bridges were blown up. In that moment of confusion, the missiles would be sent on their way, maximizing the surprise-effect.

The problem was that Russians were also bringing in a few attack helicopters. If they saw us moving around, we would be fucked. And not in a nice way. Sure the GI’s would have stingers, but they could only attack after we did our part, not to spoil the surprise. And the Russian attack helicopters had antimissile defense too.

Listening to the training officers, I couldn’t help but think that tactical operations were like rock-paper-scissor games, as in the collectible card games, I played so much at home on my gaming-PC. Choosing a way of killing the opponent, but keeping all the various ways the other guys could counter in mind. And luck is a fickle mistress, so we couldn’t trust her to do the right thing for once.

I kept pacing around the various attack positions and platoons, just making sure everyone was calm enough and prepared the equipment and camouflage to their maximum effect. I tested the non-visibility constantly from greater and shorter distances time and time again with infrared goggles. I must have been like an obsessed lunatic. The other platoon leaders were by now no doubt wondering how my platoon felt with me as their so-called leader, giving orders left and right, constantly worrying and stressing about what could go wrong. The AT-crews probably had seen enough of me, keeping them company once every while and weighing them constantly down with my repeated requests for minimal adjustments and my stupid jokes.

I barely had time to eat and see my own platoon. I must confess every time I saw Kylie now I would get a boner, getting uncomfortable in my pants and needing to adjust my package. What must she have been thinking about me? I must have come off as a **** constantly horny guy with barely a thought to spare for the more important things to come.

But whatever she thought about me, she still joined me in my foxhole the following nights cuddling me as I finally fell asleep after yet another exhausting day. Which I was grateful for, although also a bit guilty. We never got into a meaningful conversation those days. It was like going to work, getting home late, eating, napping in front of the television before going to bed separately. I wasn’t nearly as attentive as I hoped I could be. True, the sleeping bags were very comfortably, but quite an obstacle for really getting intimate with each other. Having experienced her superb blowjob, I was like a blind man seeing a beautiful light spectrum for a very short moment, getting very frustrated with the need to see that once more. I knew I shouldn’t complain, she did already so much for me. I tried to hold her close, however clumsy, in those short cold nights.

The last night before the Americans would arrive, we had a surprise visit in our foxhole from Kate, holding her sleeping bag, slithering onto the bottom. She looked at both of us, saying she needed to stay the night, as Peter and Jon wanted “a private moment”. Her brother Tom would join Dave in his smaller foxhole.

As I was holding Kylie, her ass very close to my crotch, Kate decided to snuggle up behind me. Probably for the extra warmth only. I was radiating enough heat anyways. With Kylie spooning with me, I was literally and figuratively in heat. I didn’t know if it was her express intent, but Kylie starting wiggling her ass closer and closer to my crotch. Although two layers of sleeping bags were between us, no doubt in my mind she felt my raging boner at that instance. She seemed intent to tease me while Kate was laying very close to me. Kylie proceeded then to even push my hips backwards in slow repeating patterns. Kate should have sensed the movements towards her, but whatever she thought of it, she kept her silence for some unknown reason. I hoped she didn’t feel too much embarrassment or regret choosing to stay here for the night. I tried to counter Kylie’s movements by trying to stay still as much as I could at the same spot with my hips, not further wanting to cause Kate more embarrassment. However pleasant the feeling was, being teased by Kylie, pure exhaustion won eventually, rendering me asleep.