Date: Wed, 20 Apr 2016 16:01:01 +0200
From: J a skehan <jaskejr@hotmail.com>
Subject: Crashed in Combat

Crash in Combat

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Crash in Combat

Steve woke up in pain. His arm and left hurt, a dull pain. He hadn't opened
his eyes yet for fear. When he finally managed to open them just a bit, he
saw the thatched roof of the hut. Sunlite peeked through the spaces between
the thatch. Otherwise the room was a shadowed, cool place. He could hear
insect outside, swarming around. He leaned up to look at his surroundings.
His left arm and leg were covered in a palm frond bandage and held in place
by strong yet flexible pieces of wood. He was naked and he could see the
remains of his uniform on the dirt floor of the hut.

  The last thing he remembered was the sight of his fighter jet heading for
the thick jungle. His co-pilot had bailed minutes before but his own
ejection seat did not work. He looked, not at the approaching ground but up
at the clear blue sky. If this was his end he wanted to see it one last
time, to imprint it on his mind. Then all was blackness.

  The young, muscled man had been hunting in the woods. He was looking for
wild berries and other things he might eat. Earlier he'd set out some traps
hoping to snare a rabbit or some other creature to supplement his meager
diet. He heard the sound of the low flying jet nearby and then a loud
crash. Running to the sound, he saw a ring of fire burning on the jungle
floor. On the edge of the fire lay a bundled white cloth, twisting.
Circling the flames he moved with caution to the cloth. He'd never been far
from the village that had ostracized him many moons ago. He knew of a
distant war but it mattered little to him here in his jungle. It was a
fight between two groups of men both of whom were hostile to his people.
Their pale religious men had tried to sway his people from the gods that
had protected them since ancient times. They had little success and
eventually left his people to their old ways. However, they did manage to
teach his people some words in their foreign language in order to
communicate with them. Being young and bright he quickly picked up their
langauge but he rejected their religion just as the rest of his people had.

  He approached the white cloth which was now very still. He could see a
red streak on the ground. Instinct told him that it was blood. Perhaps his
gods had sent him a bird to roast for his supper. He pulled the white
covering away only to discover a man, bloodied with most of his clothing
torn away. The man was breathing and moaning in pain. Our hunter knew that
he must help. He quickly pulled the cloth the man was laying on away from
the flames. As he did so the man moaned from pain. His arm and leg were
twisted in an un-natural way. The hunter left for a few minutes to gather a
few stirdy pieces of wood. He returned and made a sling using the wood and
the white cloth. With this he was able to pull the injured man back to his
hut.

 Once he'd gotten the man inside the hut he went out to the fire he used to
cook with and warmed some water. He mixed some jungle herbs into the water
until he was satisifed with the paste he'd created. Taking the paste inside
he them covered the man's injuries with the past and some clean palm
leaves. Finishing this he very carefully moved the man over to his sleeping
hammock. He pulled the hemp ropes up until the hammock was just a short way
over the ground. This would keep the crawling insects from the wounded
man. He returned to his fire to prepare a stew of dried meat and wild
vegitables.

 As Steve's mind became cleared and he could focus he noticed the smell of
the stew and moaned from hunger. He could not remember the last time he
ate. Suddenly a naked, native man appeared in the doorway of the hut. He
smiled at his now awake guest. He was carrying a wooden bowls with a
steaming mixture in it. The naked man approached the hammock, knelt, and
offered Steve a spoonful of the stew. Steve closed his eyes and let the
wooden spoon enter his mouth. It was a strange taste but welcomed. The man
then took a spoonful of the stew and ate it himself. This showed Steve that
the man was sharing his own meal.

 Over the next few days, then weeks Steve had begun to recover. His arm was
not broken only sprained and the paste that the man applied worked
wonders. Eventually Steve was able to sit up. The young man had bathed him
using warm water and a piece of the torn parachute. His host had been very
resourceful, using another piece of the cloth to cover the doorway of the
hut. He'd also carved a crude crutch for Steve to use to support himself.

  While he still could not understand the man's language he did manage to
commuicate using his college french and a few of the words he'd picked up
in the local market near the airbase. This was supplemented by drawings in
the dirt to illustrate what could not be understood. Steve became
comfortable with his new friend and host. He wondered if his comrades had
given up on the search for him after seeing the wreaked remains of his
plane. If they had he was satisfied with the current existance.

  Over time Steve began to get the story of the young man's life out of
him. He had been banned from his village and his people when he'd tried to
have sex with one of the stronger warriors in the village. He was denounced
before the entire village and sent into the jungle on his own to die. But
the man was stronger than the villagers had suspected. He quickly built a
hut and carved out a new existence for himself. Steve admired the young man
for his survival. He also had a growing awareness of his own attraction to
the man. At first he attributed it to gratitude for saving him. But with
the passing of time another feeling began to surface. He felt a need that
he's never had before. It was a need for a deeper closeness with another
man.

  Together they worked on the campsite. Steve was able to recover some
basic tools from the remains of his crashed plane. He used these to build
improved traps and tools for hunting. He even managed to learn about the
editable plants in the jungle. He cultivated a small garden. Together they
repaired the roof and walls of the hut to keep out the elements. They build
a larger hemp hammock that they would share. They discovered certain plants
that repelled the jungle insects and used the leaves to cover the floor of
the hut. They also rubbed the leaves over their bodies to protect
themselves from the insects.

  Occasionally, Steve would hear a chopper fly near but he made no effort
to attract their attention knowing that his old world would not accept his
life with his new friend.

 As time passed the two men became closer. Steve managed to pronounce the
native man's name but instead they re-named each other. Steve became Jean
and his companion was Joe. Steve even carved 2 "J's" over the door of the
hut. At night after supper they would retire to the hut and the
hammock. Eventually they began the process of physical bonding. It
surprised Steve how easy it was to sexually mate with this native. Certain
things were instinctive, part of human nature. It was natural to express
their feelings in a physical way. As the distinction between his old life
and his new one blurred, both men realized that their little world was
unique. They had few visitors, mostly those of the same persuasion. Often
their shared their food and bodies with these visitors. But each visitor
soon left to seek his own partner, happy to have experienced the joys of
being with the two men.

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