Lieutenant Sapphire and the Cuddlies

By: Lieutenant Sapphire (aka Malachite157)

Note:  No disrespect to the American soldiers meant in this fic.  I really do respect those who are brave and noble.  This is just in tribute to them, in my own, funny way...   :::finds men in U.S.A. army uniforms strikingly cuddly::::  I'm South African, btw.  So no political ties, either!!

Robert shielded his eyes in the bright sunlight.  The desert sand of Iraq reflected the light so that it shone from below and above.  He wished for the eighth time that he hadn't forgotten his sunglasses at base.  Of course nothing came of this and he still stood, blinking in the sunlight.  He was in the middle of an open plain, heading on foot for a small village on the horizon.  It was shimmering and rippling in the heat waves and a trickle of sweat slid down his dusty face.  

"Man, I sure would kill for a cold shower right now."

Private Maxwell rubbed the sweat from his own face and put back on his sunglasses.

"You know you probably could.  That village ought to have at least one shower, and if any of them ragheads gives you any trouble, just say you could kill for a shower and I think they'll get the point."

Robert glared at Maxwell.

"Max, you're an idiot, you know that?"

"Heh-yeah," Maxwell chuckled.  He looked over his shoulder at the approaching platoon of men.  Their Humvees, glorious vehicles though they were, had broken down on the way to the village.  All three of them.  So now they were straggling in the heat across the hard, dry plain towards the village, as instructed.

"Come on, soldiers!  I reckon we've got only twen'y more minutes before we get to that there village and drink us some water."

"Ah, shuddup," one of the soldiers called.  "You said that twen'y minutes ago!  I think we've been goin' after a mirage, that's what I think, yessiree."

Maxwell put his hands on his hips and glowered at that particular soldier until he was right in front of him, panting and sweating profusely.

"You wanna say that to my face, boy?" he said.  It had taken the soldier five minutes to get up to him and he had already forgotten what he'd said.

"What?"

"I said do you wanna say that...oh never mind."

Maxwell turned away and realized that as hard as he tried to sound like a sergeant, he just wasn't one.

The twelve men were now gathered and resting.  Most of them had flumped down and were gurgling down the last of their water bottles while a few of them fingered their weapons irritably and scanned the area for any people or vehicles.

"I hate this place," Robert suddenly declared.

Everyone looked up at him, some of them obviously annoyed.

"I don't wanna be here and," he trailed and pulled up his shirt sleeve.  He pointed to an old bullet wound, healed now but still clearly evident, for all to see, "I sure know them Iraqi's don't want me here either.  I wanna go HOME!"

Private Jake sniffed and frowned.

"Oh, don't be so sore.  If you were in Vietnam years ago, or in Germany or Normandy years before that, you'd feel just the same way and so would yer enemies.  So quit whinin' and come ta grips with the fact that you...you joined the army!  You're a soldier and soldiers get shot at!"

An argument was hovering heavily in the air, but it was prevented by Corporal Bill yelling:

"Shush!   Look over there!  There seems to be a crowd coming towards us.  Get your weapons ready," he warned.  

Suddenly, everyone was alert and on their feet, flicking off the safety switch on their guns and aiming it at the nearing group of people.  

"Who do you think they are?" Private Gallagher asked the Corporal.

Corporal Bill shrugged.

"Well, they ain't ragheads, that's for sure.  Check their clothing!"  

They could clearly see the crowd now was wearing the typical dress for-

"AH, no!  It's a group of dang journalists!" Private Roy yelled out.

"Aw, man, where did they come from all of a sudden?" Robert moaned.

The journalists were hurrying eagerly towards them.  Usually the soldiers would be happy to talk to them because they liked the publicity.  They could moan on national T.V. about not having decent magazines and mosquito repellent.  But they knew this crowd - this was a crowd of journalists on a joy ride.  Far, far off in the distance they spotted a bus.  These reporters were not looking for a story, for indeed there was nothing interesting to tell.  They'd heard about bored journalists.  They could be terribly irritating and utterly demoralizing if in a bad mood...

"Uh, Corporal?  The journalists...they're all women."

Corporal Bill went pale.  The crowd of females was coming at them at a jog now, and, to his horror, their arms were outstretched...

"Oh no, I've seen this happen before.  Men, brace yourselves, we could be taking heavy-----"

It was too late.  Suddenly, the women were right in front of them.  They were drunk, they were bored and they were in desperate need of a nice, soldier-style...

"CUDDLE!" one of them yelled and threw her arms around Robert.

Before they could react, the women were attacking them with everything from mild cuddles to big, bear hugs.  The platoon were bowled over and shocked.  They found themselves being squeezed, winded by over-enthusiastic pats on the back and their collar bones and necks were taking punishment.

"Ack!  Excuse me ma'am, but we have a mission to complete and..." Private Gallagher tried but the woman nearly had him asphyxiated.

Corporal Bill had managed to make a quick run for it but a short, fat lady in red grabbed him by the flap of his jacket and he jerked away, falling to the ground.  He whipped out his radio and screamed into it.

"Taking heavy cuddles!  I repeat, we're taking heavy cuddles!"

This was a very serious situation indeed.  They could not fire on these unarmed...well, no, they had two very strong, hugging arms, but... well they couldn't shoot at them.  They were not trained for dealing with this but the Corporal knew from past experience that over-zealous bear hugs had been known to crack ribs and seriously wind soldiers.  Why, oh why, was his platoon so cuddly?

An answer crackled over from the radio.

"Corporal, this is Captain Johnson!  I'm sending a chopper over to you now with a special unit that will get you out of this mess.  For now, just hold your position and try to defend yourself with polite refusals and gentle pushes.  This is the media we're dealing with, so we don't want to get on their bad side.  Is that clear?"

"Yes sir!  Corporal Bill over and out."

The fat lady fastened her hand on his collar and ripped him up to his feet just as he closed the connection.  She held him in front of her.

"You know, male journalists just don't have the cuddle-appeal you guys do.  I think it's the uniform," she informed him, before grabbing him and giving him a powerful embrace.

"W-would...you...stop hugging us...if we changed the uniform?" he wheezed, struggling to get away from her jaw-like grip.

She smiled happily.

"No."

"I thought as much," he gasped.  After a while, the sound of a helicopter coming in to land met his ears and he felt a thrill of hope pass through him.

A voice over a loud speaker, coming from the heli filled the desert air.

"All journalists, stand down!  Any further cuddling will result in boring assignments.  We have your bosses on the phone lines back at base, and they're not kidding with you!"

Terrified of getting boring assignments, the journalists backed off and the helicopter landed.  It was a transport heli and the soldiers, the moment they were free, rushed over to it.  The door opened and none of them hesitated to jump inside.  When all twelve were onboard, the door slid closed and the helicopter lifted off.  Robert sank down in a chair and looked through the window to see many disappointed journalists staring up at them.

"Phew, that was close," the Corporal said as he sat down.  His soldiers stared at him incredulously.

"What was that?  Why were they hugging us so much?  What did we do?" Private Jake asked the question on all their minds.

The Corporal was unsure about what to say.  Recently, there had been a few strange reports of soldiers being ambushed in the desert (it was true, the huggers were so quiet in their approach, they hardly noticed their coming) and hugged half to death.  The scary thing was it wasn't always women.  Apparently, the soldiers who made it out alive said that the huggers told them they couldn't resist, the just looked 'so dang cuddly'.  It seemed to be a phenomenon.  It was still very rare, and seemed to happen to a specific type of soldier.  The soldiers averaged between 19 and 24 in age, had cleanly shaven faces, wore full military gear and were slim and of medium height.  The Corporal realized he had a whole platoon of men who looked like this.  They were a recipe for disaster.

"Boys," he began hesitantly.  He gazed at their young, expectant faces...oh, this was going to be so difficult...

"Boys, the army doesn't really have a name for this...unusual occurrence.  I know you've all been trained for combat.  Fighting people who fight you with weapons, but there seems to be a new, different problem facing certain...kinds of soldiers."

"Which is why I am here," a strange voice said. All of the soldiers looked towards the entrance from the pilot's room to the main cabin they were seated in.  Standing there, dressed in full uniform, was a female officer.

Robert cowered at the sight of her.

"Not another woman," he murmured fearfully and backed against the wall.  She stared at him coldly.

"At ease, soldier.  I'm not here to cuddle you...yet."

The soldiers shifted uncomfortably, but listened with curiosity.

She stood rigid, her shiny badges glinting in the sunlight that filtered through the helicopter windows.

"I am Lieutenant Sapphire.  I've been assigned to take you men to a special training facility in Southern Africa."

"Southern Africa?" Maxwell exclaimed.

She nodded.

"Men, what you have just experienced is a new threat to the American army.  It is such an unusual threat, that we have to deal with it in unconventional ways.  Apparently, certain youths in the army, when fully dressed in uniform, appear to be irresistibly...cuddly.  Of course, you are only cuddly to the allies, not the enemies, which makes this threat very difficult to deal with.  The only way to combat it, peacefully, is to undergo training on resisting it."

Private Robert scratched his head.

"I...I don't understand.  I've never heard of such a thing!"

She gave him a steel-cold look.

"It's a new occurrence.  Now, this helicopter will fly back to the nearest airport, where you will board a plane and head straight for South Africa.  You will get off at Johannesburg and board another plane which will take you to a training facility on the eastern coast."

Private Roy's jaw dropped and the Corporal stiffened up.  Unlike Roy and the others, he had been expecting this to happen at some point or another.

"Do we have a choice in the matter?" Roy asked.

"No," she said firmly.

A heavy silence fell over the soldiers.

"As of now," Lieutenant Sapphire continued, "You will be known as Cuddlies.  Your company is A company and you will spend a maximum of five weeks at the training facility."

"Wow, that happened fast.  One minute we're sweatin' in the desert, the next we're on our way to...to South Africa," Robert said in amazement.

Gallagher frowned and looked up at the Lieutenant.

"Lieutenant?"

"Yes, Cuddly?"

He winced at being called...ugh...'cuddly', but she was his senior officer and he had no say against being called that.

"Um, may I ask, what is this facility called?"

A small smile came upon her face and her eyes glinted.

"It's called the 'Foundation for the Poor Cuddlies', and the training program is known as 'Training the Soldiers of Today, for the Cuddlies of Tomorrow'."

"Sounds crazy," he muttered.

Her upper lip stiffened and her smile faded.

"Oh believe me, it is."

End of Cuddly Fic Number One.