The Khamsin

      “The ship is sinking,” she croaked hoarsely, “we’re going down…all of us!”

      The boatload of khaki-clad women heading for foreign shores shuddered ominously.

      “No shit!” the corporal in the hammock next to Joanne screeched rubbing her sore knees after ejecting from her hammock, “just how do you know anyway?”  She didn’t like the little redhead from Brooklyn and the emphasis she put on the “you” was openly sarcastic.  Joanne let it pass.  This was a matter of life and death.

      Above Joanne, in the higher hammock, Pokie held her head, muttering in Chippewa, taking her time struggling out of her perch.  Joanne was all thumbs getting into her home-made Indian loafers thinking that her friend was one real lazy Indian.  She couldn’t be rushed.  Nothing rattled her.  Unlike Joanne, she was always calm and collected.  Not yet 21, Joanne wasn’t ready to die yet and she predicted the present situation was a formidable omen of what was to come.

      And so it began.  The foreign intrigue of distant lands kept the adrenaline racing…and she soon learned the whole gamut spelled the survival of the fittest.  What she had thought would be a lark turned into a wrenching series of events that tested her sanity.  A top secretary it seemed was not enough in this woman’s army; one had to be a mind reader to figure out some hard line veterans she came in contact with.  They had been thru the mill and spent their time practicing the rules of the book on rookies like her, fresh out of boot camp.  As the youngest in the company she, to her sorrow, soon contemplated the long hard road ahead of her to make her mark in the service.

      And that was the least of it as death and tragedy waited eagerly in the wings.  Aside from the daily trials at the office she winced thinking about home-- and the main source of her near fatal dilemma regarding Bruno.  Eight thousand miles away, it turned out, wasn’t far enough from the long arm of perverted infamy reaching out from the neighborhood kingpin.  Even while he was in Leavenworth serving time for stabbing another G.I. for attacking his heritage he still commandeered a private army of ruthless goofers carrying out his every wish.

      One of his brothers was a 3-time loser at Sing Sing and she had put him there!  Her breath came in short gasps remembering and swearing it wasn’t her fault.  Her very life depended on defending herself.  But it was all behind her now.  She was safe in the service and regardless of her daily office problems she didn’t have to keep looking over her shoulder.  Amos and the knife.  An indelible memory.

      Right now, come hell or high water she was going to return from the war in one piece.  And what awaited her there was no laughing matter either.  At home her family was in disorganized distress.  Her teeth came together tightly thinking of the sponging relatives who had a field day looting anything they wanted from the flat--at her father’s behest.  Salute!  Good old Uncle Joe.

      Yes, she vowed, I’ll return.  The army wasn’t going to slap her down.  But what about Bruno?  He’d get a dishonorable discharge and then what?  He was well known for exacting vengeance regardless of how long it took.  In the meantime she had a date with someone from home.  She had no way of knowing he was one of Bruno’s six brothers until the sand dunes erupted into doomsday around them.