Chuck Avery loved the early morning Army runs. Today was a four-miler and super special. His unit was running through the German countryside, an area with small vineyards and allotment farms. He didn't think allotment farms existed in America -- they probably should.

They were small parcels of land where different families shared common small plots of their own. Generally, there were huts for storage and rudimentary overnight facilities. It was an early October morning, so a bit brisk. Many of the people were burning charcoal braziers or small fire pits. The smell of wood burning in the morning reminded him of his home in northern Alabama.

The sound of a "Jody" song enhanced the cadence of feet pounding the pavement in unison.

Mama mama can't you see,
what the army's done to me.

They put me in a barber's chair,
spun me around I had no hair.

Mama mama can't you see,
what the army's done to me.

I used to date beauty queens
now I love my M16.

This went on and on, some verses more politically correct than others. The Germans seemed to enjoy it. Many waved as they went by.

Chuck was drafted into the army in 1971, right out of Auburn University. Getting to Germany rather than Vietnam was a seminal moment in his life.

The running was centering, as it was something he had pretty much done every day of his life. The four-mile came to an end. Most of his unit were huffing, puffing and bitching about the run. Chuck was sorry to see it end. He turned to his buddy, Jean Herbert. Even though out of breath, Jean lit up a cigarette. "Hey, man, if you would quit smoking those things, the run would be a piece of cake to you."

He had to smile at Jean. They were room mates. At their introduction, Jean made sure that Chuck understood that his name wasn't pronounced 'Her-bert', rather 'A-Bear'. Jean was French Canadian, so how he wound up in the U.S. Army was a mystery.

"Ease up. I'm really cutting back. I only smoke before breakfast, after lunch, after dinner and after sex."

"Well, I guess with the lack of sex, you're really cutting back."

Jean replied with a smirk, "You should talk, married man. Your wife isn't coming over for two more months and you still refuse to go to Susie's with me."

Susie's was introduced to new arrivals during their orientation. Prostitution was legal in Germany. Perhaps the army thought it was safer for the newbies to go to a place that was regulated and controlled than to try and find sex on the streets."

"Look, you know I'm not going. Being married is serious to me. Right now, I'm saving every bit of my pay to get my wife over. Even though we'll get a small housing allowance from the Army, most of the cost is on me. Sixty German Marks for a visit to Susie's, just isn't in my budget."

"Well, it should be brother. In American money, that's only fifteen dollars. Plus, since you don't smoke, you could be selling your cigarettes on the black market."

"Way ahead of you. I am selling my cigarette ration. I've even been known to sell some class-six liquor. Let's go the the mess hall for breakfast before the late-comers get in."

Army breakfast was something Chuck loved. People always seemed to complain about Army chow. Apparently, they never ate it. Lacking lagniappe, it wasn't lacking in variety and wholesome goodness. Two eggs fried over easy on top of creamed beef on toast, fresh cut fruit, a glass of milk and endless coffee. He might have to skip lunch today.

The two men could have been poster boys for the Army. Each was six feet tall and weighed about one-hundred-eighty pounds. Chiseled frames for both were accented by square jaws and slightly dimpled chins. One difference, Jean sported a pencil thin mustache.

As they were eating, Jean turned to him. "I know we've been kidding about Susie's, but you really should go. I'm going tonight. It's an experience that you might not ever have again."

"Jean, there's no again, and there won't even be a first time. Thanks, but no thanks."

"Okay, I'll see you after work at the service club. Since you have so much money, I'll even let you buy me a beer."

"I can handle that. Twenty-five-cents for my favorite Canuck is doable."

Jean dropped by the service club at eight PM. He immediately spotted Chuck at one of the card tables collecting money. The game was pinochle. He knew they played for a penny a point, and Chuck was pulling folding money in.

"Well, isn't that grand. You can't afford to go to Susie's, but you can afford to gamble."

"First off, the way my partner and I play, it really isn't gambling. Plus, it came to all of six dollars. Even if I lost, six bucks for two hours entertainment isn't too shabby."

"Well, it's not healthy to abstain from sex. Your wife won't be here for two more months. Plus, I want to find a woman who speaks French, my first language. My last trip, the woman spoke German and broken English. Look, just come with me. The place is a riot. There's a nice bar downstairs and you like German beer. It has three floors. You walk through and get a chance to look at pretty girls who try to get you into their little rooms. You don't have to buy, just window shop."

Easy to blame on the beer, but Chuck replied, "Let's go."

The walk was an easy one. Susie's looked very benign on the outside, more like a three-story apartment building. On one corner downstairs was a brightly lit bar. The bar prices were cheap, but the glasses small. Drink was not the primary enticement.

After one more round of beers, Jean announced, "Okay, time to go upstairs."

"You go ahead. I'm just going to sit here, enjoy myself and have another beer."

With a snicker, Jean said, "Come on. Remember, you don't have to go in a room. Let's just take a look."

Walking through the first floor was an experience Chuck would never forget. There were women of every color and for every taste. Most were beautiful. There were a few who were quite heavy, and one, actually obese. Jean questioned several women in French.

On the second floor, a short brunette responded to Jean in what sounded like perfect French. Stopping and turning to Chuck, Jean said, "This is the one." She opened the door and the two disappeared inside.

Chuck just stood there for a moment. A woman standing in front of a nearby doorway announced, "I don't speak French, but I speak good American. Come on in." Surprising even himself, he went in with her.

After closing the door, the woman started discussing the fee structure. "The entry level price is sixty marks for straight sex, nothing fancy. Anything else you want to do will be extra."

Chuck stuttered his reply, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come in. I'll just leave now."

A quick series of questions followed, "What's the matter? Do you find me ugly? Don't you like sex?"

"Slow down. You're not ugly at all, you're are a beautiful woman that any man should be proud to be with. I like sex, but for me, something is missing."

"And what would that be?"

"What's missing is my wife."

The woman was silent for a moment before replying, "You know of course, your wife will never know."

"Yeah, but I'll know, so I'll just be leaving."

"There's a small problem with leaving. A house rule is once the door closes, you owe me sixty marks. If you don't want anything for it, that's your decision, but it is still owed."

As he pulled out the sixty marks, Chuck said, "I understand. Just know it is nothing about you, just me. I'll be leaving now."

Pulling her robe tight around herself, the woman said, "Actually, you've given me a paid twenty minute break. It's better for me if you don't leave. Would you like a cup of tea?" She walked to a corner of the small room. On top of a tiny table stood an electric teapot, a tin of tea and containers of milk and sugar. "If you leave now, your friend might just think you lack stamina."

Puzzled, Chuck asked, "Where do you want me to sit?"

"Pull up the small chair from the corner. I'll just sit on the side of the bed."

To Chuck, the situation almost seemed surreal. She bustled about the small room, preparing tea.

She finished the tea and handed him a cup. As she sat down and crossed her legs, she noticed him taking a peek at the ample view of white thigh. Chuckling, she said, "It's not too late you know."

Chuck just gave her a goofy smile. After no response, they both took a sip of the tea. The silence didn't last long. The first question Chuck asked was, "Where did you learn English? You speak it with hardly any accent. In fact, the only accent I hear is a southern accent."

Laughing, she replied, "That's why I originally said I spoke American. My mother married a GI and I spent five years in Fayetteville, North Carolina and two years at Fort Benning, Georgia. When he started wanting to get into my pants more than my mother's, they divorced and we moved back to Germany."

"I'm sorry it didn't work out for you."

"Ah, it's okay. It was an interesting time in my life." Taking a sip of her tea, she continued, "I can see the next question in your eyes."

Chuck blurted, "What?"

"You're wondering how a girl like me wound up in a place like this."

Blushing, he admitted, "Yeah, it did cross my mind."

"Well, it's a common question I get all the time. All the girls here seem to spin some sad tale around it, usually involving taking care of an ailing parent or sickly child, or perhaps to pay for university. The truth is we all probably have the same reason. The money's good and the work's not hard. We're reasonably safe. If threatened, there are ways to alert people who come to the room in seconds. They are not the type of people you would want to know."

The two became more at ease. They shared their names, hers was Adelisa. She was born in Leimen, Germany, right outside of Heidelberg. She owned a dachshund named Schatzi. They both shared a joy in running. Adelisa admitted she hadn't made an early morning run in quite awhile, but knew exactly where Chuck ran that morning.

"When you made that run, do you remember where the slight fork turns right toward the river, left, back up toward the hills."

"Yes, of course. That's where a lot of the guys can't wait to turn right, the shortest distance back to the barracks."

"At that fork is a small cottage that my cousin owns. It is painted a faded red, with a distressed green front door. The grounds are small with flowers in the front, fruit trees and a small grape vineyard in the rear."

"Adelisa, I do remember, because I've always thought it looked so cozy. Are you ever there?"

"My cousin has invited me many times and has stressed I could always stay there with a friend."

"Perhaps I will see you there sometime."

"Maybe, I doubt it, but, who knows?"

Their talk was like old friends, about a lot and at the same time, nothing at all.

She glanced at the clock on the wall. "Chuck, thank you for my break, but your twenty minutes are up. You'll have to leave."

Surprised time passed so quickly, he said, "You deserve my thanks. I know this was unusual, but you didn't make fun of me or make me feel uncomfortable at all. Talking with you was great. I got value for my sixty marks."

Smiling, she replied, "You can come back and talk any time you want and get the sixty mark cup of tea. Next time, I'll even have biscuits." She arose from the bed and escorted him to the door. As she opened the door, Jean was coming out from his room. He and the girl with him were arguing in French. Seeing Adelisa and Chuck, they stopped mid-sentence .

Holding Chuck's arm, Adelisa turned to the two in the doorway and proclaimed, "Your friend was fantastic."

'****************

Chuck took his wife to the Frankfort Airport. Their eighteen months in Germany had been wonderful. Even though they had little money, they were incredibly blessed to see many things, not only Germany, but France and Switzerland. He would be joining his wife in about one week, but knew his mom and mother-in-law would be ecstatic to greet his wife and their seven-month old grandchild, Charles, Jr.  

The next morning, he took a run. Not with his unit, but a personal one, his last in Germany. His destination of choice, the rustic road through the vineyards. He had run through there several times and remembered passing Adelisa's cousin's cabin. He'd never seen anyone.

When he reached the fork in the road, he glanced at the cottage. Standing in front were a man and a woman. Both had mugs in their hands. Steam rose from each, so could have been coffee or perhaps tea. Both looked happy. He waved and both waved back. He passed quickly, so never noticed that the woman's wave became more animated.

Running alone, so not hearing the 'Jody" songs in reality, one refrain became integrated into his breathing cycle.

Marching down the avenue
Few more days and we'll be through
I just want to look at you
So, I'll be glad and so will you

Count off one two
Count off three four
Count off one two, three four
Three four