Wiesbaden, Germany

I saluted the admitting officer, an elderly major, and presented the order for circumcision. The major looked incredulous and eyed me suspiciously.

“Have those pissers in urology screwed up again?”

“You’re partially correct, sir,” I replied, grinning sheepishly. “It was a screwing, with unanticipated viral consequences. A general’s daughter,” I added unnecessarily. “At the War Department in Washington,” I blundered on, “and Doc Jacobs said that kind of virus can take months to show symptoms.”

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