Greetings

[Porpoise]

Can I take that as tacit approval?

Here's the first section or so. I'm really interested to hear from people from Denmark, Norway, Sweden or anyone who worked in joint headquarters in the 80s.

As soon as I read the destination of my next assignment, I knew the General had found his way to punish me. Adultery is a crime under the UCMJ, so technically I should have been court-martialled and discharged, but doing so would have made public the fact that I had slept with the General's wife, that I had done so at a swingers party in Maryland and that the General was also present and liked to watch. I don't want you to get the wrong impression about me, I'm not in the habit of attending swingers parties. It was all the idea of that pervert McHenry. Going to the swingers club, I mean, that was McHenry's idea, the General probably thought up the idea of watching his wife having sex with a pile of strangers.
"You need to get out more, Bud," McHenry said and I agreed. I thought he meant going to a new bar and meeting new people, that sort of thing. When we arrived at the party and the host answered the door in the nude I knew something was up. McHenry just walked right in like he'd been there before, which he had, and I felt obliged to follow.
"Jesus, McHenry," I said as he stripped off naked in front of me.
"Hey, don't use my real name," he muttered, "now take your clothes off, you're making me look bad."
"I'd say you and the hair on your back are doing a pretty good job by yourselves."
If we hadn't stopped by a bar beforehand I would have turned around and walked right out of there. But I'd had just enough drinks to think, 'what the hell, what's the worst that could happen?'
Just for the record, no I did not actually have sex with the woman in question, but yes I was at the party, in the buff, trying not to look anyone in the eye. I was naked in the same room as the General and his wife, both of whom appeared to be having a very good time indeed. Naturally, being naked, none knew the other was an officer in the US Army, nor felt the need to announce the fact. About a month later I discovered what a huge mistake I had made when the General and I almost bumped into each other in a corridor at the Pentagon. We did that awkward dance as both of us tried to get around the other, then I recognised him. There was an awkward silence while we kept pretending we'd never met and I tried not to picture two guys bumping into his wife, naked, simultaneously, earlier that week.
"Excuse me," he said, looking furious, then shoved past me.
At that point I pretty much thought this whole army career thing was done and so I started shopping around for work and updated my resume. Working at the Army Logistics Management College gave me some good contacts with guys who worked for defense contractors and suppliers. I asked around to see if anyone would employ an ex-army Major. Most seemed to think a dishonourable discharge was no impediment to working for the industrial part of the military industrial complex. One beltway bandit even told me it showed you had a keen business sense. The weeks went by and no summons came to appear before the commander I imagined I had gotten away with it. Until the letter of reassignment dropped into my inbox with all the grace of a wet turd from a tall moose.
Growing up in Southern California I'd grown accustomed to warm weather. Two years college in San Francisco was enough to tell me I would never like the cold, so of course I should have guessed my next assignment would be somewhere like Oslo in Norway. If I had been given a choice of assignments, I would I have preferred Hawaii or Naples. I've never been to Italy, but I like Italian food and they tell me it's nice and warm there. Unfortunately the swinging general managed to get a word in the right ear and had me sent to the coldest headquarters he could think of. How did he even know I hated the cold? Perhaps I'd been shivering while standing naked at the swingers party. Even Belgium would have been preferable to Oslo. As events turned out I'm glad I was sent to Oslo. If I'd been sent to Naples it's doubtful I would have survived the war at all. It could have been worse. At least it wasn't Alaska.