An interesting fact about being in Bosnia is the multi-national aspect. There are Turkish Tankers, Russian Paratroopers, Jordanian fuel handlers, British pilots, Swedish nurses, Polish infantry... wait, back up -- SWEDISH NURSES? By yumpin' yiminy yes, SWEDISH NURSES!

Now, what kind of ambassador of American good will would I be if I didn't visit our multi-national partners? Why, not very good at all! In fact, one might say I am duty bound to act thusly. One has to start somewhere, so it was with only a sense of duty and obligation that I sought out the Swedish Nurse detachment. What a detachment it was, too! Wow, maybe I should say attachment! They sure feed them girls healthy food, and it appears to be a lot of dairy. There's just something about a statuesque, buxom blond, but it's even better when it's 20 statuesque buxom blondes! I think they cloned Anita Ekberg, or else all her children became nurses. This was truly a sight to behold (or be held, which would be even better). And the cleavage! Oh my, acres of cleavage. I asked why their uniforms seemed a bit skimpy. They replied that the laundry had shrunk them all until they were too tight, and it's just so hot down here compared to Sweden that a few buttons had to be left undone, just so they could cool off. Then there were their smiles, which could melt you at 20 yards. Oh my, the smiling, friendly buxom nurses of Sweden. Now, this was multi-national, oh yeah! A bit of an American dream come true!

My time was well spent with the nurses, but, alas, it seemed some yahoo with brass shinier than mine decided that I was needed elsewhere. Hey, I got my ambassadorial work to do! He seemed unimpressed with that line of reasoning. So, I tried the direct approach of telling him about them being beautiful, buxom babes, and was told about the Army's "don't ask, don't tell" policy. Geeze. To make matters worse, the nurses are on the outskirts of where I am, and you have to be on "Official Business" to go there. Double geeze.

Hmm, how would I get back there? They were a trauma outfit, so it wasn't too likely that being "sick" would get me in to see them. This was indeed a perplexing situation. I wasn't really up to shooting myself in the foot just to stare down the cleavage of a beautiful, bosomy woman bending over me. I kept thinking, "well, I do have two feet," but no, that just wouldn't do. Those thoughts were becoming a bit overwhelming. I toyed with the idea of a rapid correspondence course from the Caribbean to become a doctor, but the damn mail here takes 6 weeks just to get to the states, so that wouldn't work either. All of my waking moments were devoted to figuring out how to get to see the nurses.

That was the case when I was walking alongside a bomb crater. One new --yet implausible-- idea hit my mind, but just as I was dismissing it, I mis-stepped and wound up at the bottom of the crater. Dusting myself off, I felt a bit of the fool for not watching where I was going. I then got to my feet, and my left leg just wouldn't work right. At that point, there was some screaming and yelling about some idiot falling into a crater. They proceeded to help me out, and the medic on the scene said I ought to be evacuated to the trauma center for evaluation of my leg. Even while they were loading me up for transport I was still thinking about ways to see the nurses. That is until the guy helping me in said, "You lucky stiff... in 15 minutes you're going to have Swedish Nurses all over you!" Wow, hooray for craters!

I made it to the center, and gave the screening folks the lowdown on the injury. They checked my records and said I was going to need a tetanus shot, just to be safe. So, they put me into an exam room, and had me drop trousers and wait for the nurse to come in and give me a shot. Bingo, we had a winner!

I was lying on the exam table with the old derriere exposed, ready to make my move on the first Swedish Nurse to approach me. I was truly in a dreamy-eyed state. I noticed a shadow blotting out the light. Power failure? I turned to see if there was a light switch, and there, hovering over me, was 200 lbs. of long nosed, hair-from-the-mole NURSE!!!!

"Where's the Swedish Nurses?", I meekly asked.

"Dey leave last week. We Polish here now", she said.

"Arrrrgh!" I replied as she injected me.

Fading out, I think I heard her say, "Tasha, come here. Naked American butt. Dream come true."

:-P
-- Bad Irving