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I could sit with my back to the entrance of a room or building. And I could enjoy a date with a pretty girl at a restaurant without first noting the location of all the exits, what potential threats exist, and the status of my firearm. All of those would be symptoms of what the mental health professionals called “hyper-vigilance.” For now, I was symptom free and enjoyed life.But, I had a concern. My purpose for being in this body and in this time was for me to conduct tactical operations. What I didn’t know was whether the combat stress would trigger PTSD type symptoms. It concerned me. I mentioned my concerns to Cindy and Michael. No one had an answer and I tried not to think about it.AwkwardSeptember 12, 1976, Tarleton State UniversityOn Tuesday, I had Biology and more importantly, I would see Shelly at class. I had called her on Sunday morning just to chat. Since I didn’t enjoy speaking on the phone, the call did not last but five or ten minutes, but I enjoyed hearing her voice.. I stood to leave and she stood with me, asking if I’d like anything to drink. I had no idea how to respond, this was so completely outside my frame of reference, outside my vast male-female experience… driving a date to a movie in my dad’s wheat truck. Well, not counting my wife.In short, I was scared; scared for my job, scared for my marriage, but mostly scared of the girl in the room! And God, I wanted to stay! So I did what any twenty-six-year-old red-blooded coward would do, declined, but thanked her, then got up to leave.Her door was closed, obviously. I stopped to open it and turned to thank her, in my most ‘professional’ manner. Suddenly her lips were on mine. They were soft, so god-dam soft! My hands went on her shoulders, barely touching. I hadn’t opened my lips… not until I felt her tongue pressing against them. Then her hand on the back of my neck and her nearly naked breasts pressing against me.I was literally in a haze. This couldn’t be happening, except that it was. My.
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