Free Castro's Bomb by Robert Conroy

as I believe in the tooth fairy.   I think it's a bunch of bullshit and that something really big might be happening really soon and we're maybe at the pointy end of the stick.   Lucky us, gunny."
    In the darkness, Andrew sensed rather than saw Cullen nod.   "My thoughts exactly, lieutenant."  
     
     
    For Cathy Malone, Christmas Eve had been pleasant but not noteworthy.   Dinner with the Petty Officer Pachulski, his wife, and their two little kids had been fun, especially since her Polish-American hosts traditionally celebrated Christmas on the Eve, which meant she got a chance to watch the kids open presents and generally make a mess of the Pachulski's small quarters.   The fact that she liked kielbasa, kapusta, and all the other ethnic Polish items on the table had made it a very pleasant time.  
    She'd gotten back to her apartment a little too early and a little too full to go to sleep.   She would try to run the meal off in the morning, although the idea of going for a run on Christmas Day seemed just slightly blasphemous for a reasonably good Catholic girl, which was what she still considered herself.   She still planned on a second Mass and try for a dinner invite, although maybe this one wouldn't be Polish.  
    She and her roommate, Alice Stockton, had stayed up to talk and allow their respective meals to digest.   While this was happening, they'd had several glasses of very cheap wine and Cathy knew she'd regret it a little bit in the morning.   Cheap wine gave her sinus headaches and maybe she wouldn’t go for a run tomorrow.   Still, it was fun and funny when Alice got drunk enough to admit that she was sleeping with her boyfriend, a sailor stationed at Gitmo as a mechanic, and how much she liked screwing him and what she and he specifically liked to do best.   Cathy had to admit she never thought people could be so creative and acrobatic.   Her post graduate education was increasing.   She now knew that oral sex worked both ways.   Amazing.  
    Cathy'd dated one guy fairly seriously in college, but that had fallen apart when she wouldn't go all the way with him.   Part of the way, yes, but not completely, and certainly not orally, which he told her he would happily accept as second choice.   She sometimes wondered if she was being a fool.   At least she was getting an education of sorts here in Gitmo.   The nuns she'd had in high school would crap if they knew what she was learning about in the real world.
    It was well after midnight when she finally tumbled into bed.   She would not go running.   She would sleep in.   Thank God for holidays.   With a little luck she would find someone else to feed her.  
     
     
    Firebells in the night was the phrase that always came to mind whenever Lieutenant Colonel Ted Romanski's phone rang in the middle of the night.   He thought it was something Thomas Jefferson had said but wasn't certain.   The author didn't matter; firebells in the night were never good news.   The worst news was that somebody had died or been in an accident or one of the boys couldn't get his car started and needed him to drive out to the middle of nowhere to help.   The best was a wrong number from a drunk trying to reach someone to give him a ride home.   So far, late night phone calls hadn't been for anything serious, but there was always a first time.
    He decided to answer the damn thing.
    He looked and saw his wife, Midge, was also sitting upright and trying to remember where she was.   As always, their first thought was that something had happened to one of their twin boys who were freshmen in college.   But it couldn't be them because they were home for the holidays.   One had even brought his girlfriend, which had caused some logistical problems concerning sleeping arrangements.   To put it politely, Midge was pissed that her little boy was sleeping with his girlfriend.   Ted thought the girl was sweet and cute and that his son was pretty damn lucky.
    Romanski