The army should have discharged me as well. What good could this castrated cripple be to anyone? Although I started receiving my veteran pension, I was kept in the reserve, in fact I got promoted to the grade of colonel-lieutenant. But, much more to my surprise, shortly after returning home, I received a letter, offering me a post of command of a disciplinary unit attached to a new army corps being developed, in great secrecy, at an isolated location in the forest of XXX. The letter also contained detailed instructions about how to contact the ministry, should I wish to do so. I was to keep this offer absolutely secret, and not mention any of it to anyone.

Why a disciplinary unit? I enquired, and the mystery got deeper. The commanding officer, the letter had stated, was Major-General Alexandra Sterkz, a hero of the Eastern wars, and the highest ranking female officer in the army. There was an entire disciplinary regiment attached to her command, as well as regular infantry, armour, and airborne regiments. The officer at the ministry explained, at my first call, that after the end of the war, big changes were being carried out in the army. A new discipline code had been introduced, and some of the newer recruits had difficulties adapting to it. He advised me to go and visit M-G Sterks, who, he said, was very interested in meeting me. He said, in conclusion, that the command would be challenging, even for me, and that “my” unit was entirely composed of female soldiers. They were not hardened criminals, he added, but rather “youngsters who don’t always understand the need for discipline.”

I was baffled. I let it rest for a few days. There was no need to rush. The letter had said that I could take my time, and that the command would be kept open for me until I made a decision. 

I did not want to be inactive. Gradually I was recovering my strength. Recently, I had also made a discovery. At the dojo, I had met a handsome fighter, a tall woman with a crew cut, who after a rewarding bout of training, had engaged with me. She said she wasn’t afraid of the artificial arm and leg, and she convinced me to try a new experience with her. She was patient, gifted, and, in the end, was rewarded by a magnificent and lasting erection, a first time for me since the hospital. We had fun, I relaxed, amazed at my own prowess. We repeated the experience. As a result of the handicraft of the surgeon, and perhaps some magic, my erect penis was larger than it had been, and not only stayed erect for a very long time, but did not lead to ejaculation, just leaving me a feeling of intense relaxation. I was gratified, and so was she. For her, I was told, it was divine. It got even better after a few encounters, she told me.

Being encouraged and made more confident, I resolved to visit Major General Sterkz. I started gathering some information from military publications I subscribed to. The seat of the new army corps was indeed located in a remote corner of the northern region, surrounded by thick forests and several lakes. A small airfield had been built nearby. Access by road was complicated, and, apparently not encouraged. At the ministry, when I called the second time, identifying myself by the code name  I was given in the letter, the kind officer sent me a map, with instructions on how to get there, and a telephone number to contact M-G Sterkz. I called the following day.

An NCO answered my call, and introduced herself as Staff Adjutant Maria Kolinsky, aide de camp to M-G Sterkz. Her voice was firm and a little stiff, but she was also very precise, explaining the protocol and the code of conduct on the compound. She would book my flight and sent me the details by military courier, once I had spoken with her boss. She said that M-G Sterkz would presently explain the role and reasons for the command, and added that she and her colleagues were “excited at the prospect of meeting you.”

Indeed I waited only a few seconds and a clear voice greeted me. “Hello colonel! I am glad you contacted us. This is a new command, and a fantastic opportunity for a veteran of your experience…” She then explained to me the need for the unit, one of several in the disciplinary regiment newly created. The girls, she said, were not bad material, but a little unsure about the reason for the code, and how to cope with it. My experience of combat would be invaluable to them, and the whole corps. It was a teaching as well as command role. I would have a lot of initiative regarding how they are taught, and, she added, with a sudden change in tone, how to punish them when they deserved to be punished. She explained that the command came with a comfortable lodging on the compound, in fact, close to her own, superb sport facilities, and beautiful training spaces. The motto, she concluded, was “discipline in joy”. She had a few questions about my health and state of training. I could reassure her, or thought that was what she expected of me. I was told that Maria was looking forward to meeting me, and would arrange everything. She wished me a good journey to her domain. Mentally, I saluted.

Discipline in joy? I was beginning to believe this was indeed a rare opportunity, for such a wreck of a man as myself. But then…

In fact I was getting fitter by the day. I enjoyed the swordplay even more now, that I had discovered the magic my artificial right arm could create. Indeed my response was improving all the time. My escrime coach said my improvements were radical, and wondered if I would be willing to join in the next regional competition. I was evasive. I could not say anything about my future assignment. I was gratified to be feeling strong again, and at least as quick in my response in combat situation as I had been when young and intact. At the dojo my sparring partner, the lady with a crew cut who enjoyed so much the long erections, said I was transforming in front of her very eyes. “You are a miracle,” she told me, “the first time I saw you training, I thought you were half man, half machine! You are alive!” I knew too well what she meant. I went to visit my parents again, and this time, my father appeared to recognise I was Marcus, the real thing. This time, my mother cried.

The following week a military courier was at my door, saluted stiffly, and handed over a large envelope covered with official stamps. Before I had time to thank him, he was gone. I open the envelope with some apprehension.

There was a letter from M-G Strekz confirming the appointment, reporting to her. Should I decide not to take up the command after all, I only needed to incinerate the material sent to me, and contact the ministry as before. Then was a detailed note from Maria, explaining how to reach the compound, using the passport included, and the military transport booked for me. I had a choice of two dates: one was the following morning, the other two weeks later. There was a detailed map of the compound, with the location of my unit’s barracks, and my own lodging clearly highlighted. I had to commit to absolute secrecy.

I had already prepared my suitcase, a few civilian clothes, books, and the sword I had kept safe all these years, when I was away at war. I looked carefully at the passport. The starting point of my journey was the nearby military airfield, which was familiar to me since my training days. The passport had a recent picture of me, but I could not think of when, and by whom, it could have been taken.

The following morning, I was on my way to the airfield. The paratrooper at the gate saluted, scanned the passport and gave a quick call. A few minutes later, a command car picked me up, and left me and my luggage near a small building. Two airforce guards let me in. My luggage was scanned, and I was strip-searched. Soon after, an officer in the uniform of the state security came and saluted, offering apologies for the search. “We have to make sure colonel, Sir.” I saw a small jet arrive on the tarmac. The pilot and another state security officer came to greet me. There was a sealed message from M-G Strekz: “I’ll meet you on arrival. Alexandra.” My spirits went up.

Before boarding I noticed the aircraft was unmarked, bar a small star on its tail. It was a twin jet craft, thin-nosed, short wings, which I thought was built for speed, and quick landing. The flight was uneventful, but longer than I had expected. I began to wonder whether the compound was at the location I had so far been given. The state security officer, a young man of not quite my age, was with me all the time, as well as a hostess, who was taking care of drinks, laughter and and lovely smiles. We chatted, about music, climate, and sex. 

I was too far from the small windows to see anything, but sensed a change in the direction and altitude of the plane. My companions sat down, and fasten their belts. I had kept mine on, all the time. We were now losing altitude fast.

The landing, abrupt and sudden, surprised me, despite my training. The craft did not take long for coming to a halt. The officer said: “Sir, you have arrived.” The door was opened, the officer preceded me on a frail ladder down to the ground.

The quality and coldness of the air told me this was a very northern latitude. I took careful steps down the ladder, and as I reached the ground was faced with two women officers, in plain uniforms. 

“Welcome to our world,” said M-G Strekz, and shook my hand. I had had no time to salute. Next to her stood Maria, and our eyes met. “Colonel, we are delighted to see you, and I want to thank you for a prompt positive reply to our offer. Adjutant Kolinsky will show you your quarters, and take you for a tour of the premises. You are my guest tonight, when you can meet some of your peers and colleagues.” This time she saluted, the imperial way, and I returned her salute. They led me to a limousine, and Maria took the wheel. I then had a chance to look around me. The airfield with crawling with short landing transport aircrafts and helicopters. As Maria drove us toward the perimeter, I noticed lines of armour and mobile artillery, on both sides of the highway. The perimeter was unguarded: the airfield was within the compound, but it took half an hour to reach our destination, through thick woods. Maria stopped the car near a low building that faced what I immediately recognise as a parade ground.

“Welcome home” said M-G Strekz with a smile. “I leave you in Maria’s capable hands.”

Picture: Getty images

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