She never did approve of drinking to excess, especially since it usually made Dixon sick.
Dixon watched a group of young officers from the battalion at one of the bars. In the middle of them was First Lieutenant Randy Capell, the battalion's scout-platoon leader. Capell was, for the most part, a good officer. Technically proficient, he handled his platoon well. On the debit side, Capell had a tendency to be impetuous to the point of recklessness and self-assured to the point of arrogance. While in moderation those were good qualities for scout-platoon leader, Dixon would have preferred a slightly more timid man leading the battalion's scouts. He had spent a great deal of time with Capell trying hard to train him in his duties and what was expected of the scouts. Given a little more time, Capell would do well. But time, as Dixon knew, was a commodity he didn't have.
At that moment, Capell appeared to be doing quite well with Lieutenant Amanda Matthews, the assistant brigade S-2. The two were obviously quite tipsy and becoming far more intimate than protocol normally permitted.
Dixon thought about that for a moment as he watched Capell run his free hand down Matthews' side, letting it come to rest on her hip. She simply smiled and drew closer. At the rate they were going, it wouldn't surprise Dixon one bit if Capell screwed her right there.
With that thought in mind, Dixon turned and looked at his wife. She was talking to the battalion XO's wife and ignoring him. He turned, placed his hand on her knee and ran it up her thigh. This sudden and unexpected contact startled her, causing her to jump and turn. Then she slapped his hand and scolded him as if he were a little boy, "Scott Dixon, you behave."
Dixon leaned forward, running his hand up higher on her thigh and said, so that all at the table could hear, "I don't want to behave, that's no fun."
Fay blushed and turned to the others at the table to apologize for his behavior. She was cut off, however, by Dixon announcing to them, in slightly slurred voice, "Now, if you ladies and gentlemen will excuse us, my wife and I are going home to reenact the consummation of our marriage."
Without waiting for a response or saying another word, he stood up and dragged his red-faced wife away by the hand as she finished apologizing, halfheartedly now, for her husband's behavior. In truth, she hoped that Scott wasn't so drunk that he couldn't deliver on his promise.
Amanda Matthews was enjoying herself. She had met Randy Capell at the club one night during an evening "stress reduction" session. The two had talked for a while but nothing more. A few nights later they had met again by accident and had dinner together. Matthews found herself drawn to Capell.
He was tall and solidly built, with a physique that suggested great power, yet he carried himself with an easy grace. His sandy blond hair and blue eyes were soft and inviting. He was the image of what a soldier should be-a warrior. He was also brash, self-confident, boastful and, on occasion, crude. In short, Capell was all those things that a modern woman was supposed to disdain in a man. Yet Amanda found that those traits were enjoyable and exciting.
When she saw Capell at the ball she decided to find out how interested in her he was. But rather than charge forth, she decided to charm him.
Not sure how an officer went about seducing another officer, Matthews started by making sure she was sufficiently conspicuous at her unit's table that she and Capell could make eye contact. At first, Capell was so engrossed in his conversation with other people at his table that he didn't notice her.
In desperation, she excused herself and went to the ladies' room. On her way back to her table she took a roundabout way that let her pass right behind Capell and brush against him. It worked. He turned, his face showing anger at first until he saw who it was. Matthews stopped, put her hand on Capell's shoulder, leaned over and apologized. Capell turned to face her, putting his hand on hers while they talked. His touch sent a warm, tingling surge through her. She felt herself blush as she stood there staring into Capell's soft blue eyes. When she finally told him she needed to get back to her table, her speech was faltering and barely audible.
As she walked back she felt embarrassed and happy. Embarrassed that she was acting like a schoolgirl who had a crush on a boy for the first time, and happy that she had gotten his attention. She wasn't sure, however, whether he was interested or not. Throughout the rest of the meal the two exchanged glances. When the formal part of the evening was over, Matthews forced Capell to make the first move by restraining herself from bounding up and rushing over to him. When he stood and began to approach, she beamed with a childish glee, proud that she had succeeded and excited about the prospects that the night held. She hadn't felt the way she did since her high-school prom. That thought caused her to wish she were wearing something more feminine. The occasion called for a sleek, low-cut black gown, with bare shoulders and slit skirt, not her dress-blue uniform.
That bothered her until they danced for the first time. Capell crossed the room and asked if she would like to dance. Matthews, trying hard to conceal her excitement, simply answered, "Yes, I'd love to." The two started at a respectable and proper distance that didn't last long.
Matthews drew closer to Capell, looked into his eyes, then rested her head on his shoulder. As they danced, she felt Capell become aroused, and her own excitement increased. She turned her face toward his and smiled. In response, he leaned over and kissed her.
For a brief moment they stood still, lost in the passion of the moment.
Then slowly their lips parted, and they began to sway to the rhythm of the music again. With his arms around her, she put her head back on his shoulder and followed his lead, letting herself relax and enjoy the moment.
She had no doubt where the night would lead them and eagerly looked forward to it.
Major Percy Jones watched the couples dance while he sat in his own little corner and quietly got drunk. After two years with the 25th Armored Division, the British officer still had difficulty accepting the large number of women the American Army had in its ranks. It just didn't seem proper. The two young lieutenants, however, seemed perfectly at ease dancing with each other. The blond female intelligence officer, a striking beauty by any measure, was quite competent and professional.
Jones had worked with her on several occasions and, despite 141 his prejudices, had come to depend on the intelligence products she developed. Still, it didn't seem quite proper.
As they disappeared into the middle of the group that was dancing, his thoughts returned to his own plight. Despite his best efforts, he had been unable to terminate his assignment to the corps staff and return to the 7th Royal Tank Regiment. This failure had hit home when he and several other officers from the corps staff flew to Britain for a liaison visit with the British 33rd Armored Brigade, to which his regiment belonged. The regimental mess had been alive with young officers eager to have a go at the Iranians. The older officers, while doubting the wisdom of the commitment the British government had made, were, in their own way, just as eager to get on with it. Though everyone was friendly, Jones, for the first time in his life, did not feel at home in the mess where his father's picture hung in a place reserved for the regiment's most honored members.
After one visit to the mess, he avoided it for the rest of the trip, spending his time alone in his room instead. And now the American unit he had worked with for so long was also going and he was staying behind with the corps staff. Eventually he would make it over to Iran, but not for some time. This last indignity was almost too much to bear.