The Private Journals of Isaiah Watts
Volume III

By: Nicholas Hall
(© 2022 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

nhall@tickiestories.us

Chapter 5
 

“My concern was heightened, when stripped to our nakedness before retiring to bed, I noticed the older and newer, and angrier, welds of scars at various places on Gio’s body. Those wounds must inflict discomfort and pain to him, causing the use of the cane and his hesitancy toward bodily contact with others.”

(The Private Journals of Isaiah Watts) 

“Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt.”

(Sun Tzu – The Art of War) 

Gio was tired, it’d been a long day and a longer couple of years since he’d had the comfort and security of sleeping with his lover. His body ached in various places, but the pain didn’t stymy the growth of a fine and glorious cockstand! He noticed Isaiah’s eyes sweep over his body, seeing and analyzing the healing and healed wounds, finally centering on his hard man-piece. He also noticed Isaiah grimace as he lifted his right leg to remove his pants and undershorts.

“Liniment handy?” he asked. “Your leg and hip seem to be bothering you!”

Isaiah reached over to the night stand, retrieved the container of liniment his Grandmother Lovell prepared for his use, and handed it to Gio. He pulled off the rest of his clothes, stretched out his naked body on the bed and let Gio’s hands work their magic massaging relief into his leg and hip.

Isaiah reached up, while Gio was busy massaging his hip, and ran a finger carefully, lightly down a particularly long scar extending from Gio’s left hip up his side to midway on his rib cage.

“Knife?” Isaiah asked.

“Bayonet!”

“Still tender?”

“Somewhat!”

Gio ventured nothing more in the way of verbal exchange, but his eyes looked longingly into Isaiah’s seeing love, security, and concern. He also felt Isaiah’s finger leave the scar and touch his scrotum and begin a feathery, erotic, and cock-twitching journey from whence it started, meandering up the thick delivery tube around the circumference, up a side to the oozing head of his cock! Gio sucked in his breath, sighed with anticipation, and gasped as Isaiah leaned up and forward, and using his tongue swiped the clear lubricating sticky liquid used to prepare a partner for intercourse into his mouth.

Gio wiped his hands quickly on his handkerchief, felt Isaiah’s mouth engulf the head of his cock, looked down at Isaiah’s large, throbbing erection, and huffed,

“Oh, my god, Isaiah! I’m going to spend myself!” and did! His cock pulsed, pulsed, and pulsed again as his thicky, white, and abundant orgasmic eruption filled Isaiah’s mouth. His butt cheeks clenched with each spasm and his legs grew weak from the force of the orgasm. Not depending on his balance as he dribbled his last, he took Isaiah’s head in his hand and slowly extracted his still hard cock from his mouth sitting on the bed.

“My turn,” he said with a sigh.

“Why don’t we just hold each other for now,” Isaiah advised, “and give you a chance to catch your breath and rest!”

Lovers should give each other pleasure and not pain!

Gio didn’t object! He laid down beside Isaiah, pulled Isaiah closer, and whispered, “Just hold me, please? I missed your arms so much!”

It didn’t take long for Gio to fall asleep. He’d not been asleep more than ten minutes until Isaiah felt a slight tension in Gio’s body and felt one arm move slightly and his head begin to turn toward the door. Both heard Andy whisper,

“Captain?”

Gio rolled over and saw Andy, naked, holding an equally naked Vinnie, tears streaming down the youngster’s face.

“Our little one is having one of his bad dreams, Captain, and wants you. I think we had too much excitement and are overly tired.”

Vinnie’s arms came out, Gio raised himself, and accepted the boy into his.

“Poppa!” the boy whispered.

“I know, Vinnie. Why don’t you snuggle in with Poppa and Uncle Isaiah and let me keep the bad guys away tonight?”

He settled Vinnie into his favorite position, making certain the boy’s body avoided, as best he could, those sore spots in his own, carefully, and lovingly, wrapped the boy in his arms, and began humming some little song to him.

Andy, seeing all would be well, smiled at “his Captain,” and saying “thanks” left the bedroom.

“How old did you say Andy was, Gio?” Isaiah asked, noting Andy’s mid-teen appearing genitals and pubic area.

“I think sixteen maybe seventeen; no more than that!”

“That’s about what I would guess by the look of his cock and balls,” Isaiah responded.

Not sixty seconds later, Tony appeared in the bedroom doorway, walked up to the bed and stared down at Gio holding Vinnie. Right behind Tony, Andy appeared, put a finger to his lips indicating Tony was still asleep and walking, seeking Gio.

“Poppa?” Tony said speaking Roma, fear and anxiety in his voice. “Poppa?” he asked a little louder.

“Yes, Tony,” Gio answered. “Poppa’s right here!”

“Don’t die, okay, Poppa!” Tony pleaded. “Please don’t die! What will I do if you die? Who will protect me?”

“I won’t die, Tony! Climb in bed with me and you can help me, okay?”

Tony was definitely sound asleep! Andy knew it, Gio knew it, and now Isaiah knew it. The boy was frightened and wanted his “Poppa!”

Tony crawled into bed, pressing his naked body up against Gio’s, reached up, and put Gio’s arm around him, and snuggled in close.

“He does this sometimes,” Gio explained to Isaiah.

“Poppa?” Tony asked.

“Poppa’s right here!”

“Are we safe here?”

“Yes!”

“They won’t find us?”

“No! Andy’s here and Poppa’s here. They won’t find us!”

Tony raised his head up from where he lay, saying, clearly and distinctly with no hesitation,

“If they do, I’ll shoot the mother-fuckers!” and lay back down.

Gio gave Andy a wave indicating he could leave, but asked, “How’s the other one doing?”

“Fine, Captain, but I better get back before he gets antsy!”

Clearly, Isaiah thought, these three boys have a lot of baggage; the type of baggage the others at Ravenwood may have experienced but not in the same quantity, day after day, or as violent!

“Okay, Gio,” Isaiah finally asked. “Where and when did you come by these boys?”

“Rico and Tony were being held prisoner and were about to be raped and then murdered when I intervened!”

******* 

“Andy and I left Florida by air transport with a group of RAF personnel who’d been stationed there for training. It wasn’t a direct flight; there were refueling stops in Labrador and Iceland before landing in Scotland.”

Gio and Andy, promoted to Sargent once in Britain, giving him more authority and lee-way of action in reporting directly to an officer in the OSS. He also received orders while there to proceed with Captain Russo to North Africa to act as his liaison, via radio, and monitor his activities and to relay information to OSS, specifically, Colonel Dickenson.

Andy underwent rigorous training in the use of the radios, coding and decoding, transmission, reception, repair of radio, and morse code. He was also trained in the use of the code he’d use communicating with Gio and for relaying information to his own superiors. Even though they were extremely busy, Gio still had the opportunity to ply his skills and visit some homes of the well-to-do in some of the relatively undamaged portions of some of the communities. He was amazed at how many persons of privilege there failed to make certain their funds and valuables were safe and secure. He also felt those same individuals were in the process of hiding what they had from authorities. Did he feel guilty about his nefarious activities? Not one bit!

Evading the Home Guard was a challenge and sharpened his skills of stealth and thievery, since most of the Guard were locals and keenly serious concerning the responsibilities they held; ever on the watch for infiltrators interested in sabotage or stealing secrets in order to do damage.

Gio was able to send some mail home to Isaiah and also to his grandparents. Andy, under tutelage from Gio, soon became well-schooled in the art of successful bribery, applied in some cases with healthy doses of blackmail. Their sojourn, so to speak amongst all of the destruction and death occurring in Britain due to German bombings, ended when they received orders to go to North Africa via air transport.

Andy thought the air flights were a little rough, the accommodations relatively sparse, and the food cold since it was packed beforehand for them, but preferred it over surface ships or submarines. Ships pitched, rolled, and made him sick; just the thought of getting in a submarine, one hundred feet under water, caused his stomach to feel funny and his mouth to dry. Gio teased him a great deal wondering how a guy who could kill without compunction and would walk through the most dangerous parts of a city without fear, could be frightened by being in a submarine.

On the flight to Africa, with little else to do but check equipment, snooze, or sort through one’s thoughts, Gio and Andy discussed, in wonderment, how in the hell the Brits were able to sustain themselves mentally since they were under intense bombardment almost nightly by the German Luftwaffe.

“Just plain guts and determination to protect the homeland,” Gio concluded.

“Amazing!” Andy decided.

There was little interference with their flight, although a couple of times the pilot took some evasive action to avoid a fight. Fortunately, there was enough warning to enable the crew to prepare. Ducking into cloud cover was an effective measure on this particular flight.

About an hour out from their destination, Gio wondered aloud if there might be the possibility of locating some young lads up for some “bed sport.”

“Something like those two Brit boys?” Andy asked.

“Yeah, willing mouths and flexible assholes!” Gio responded.

“Man, they about wore our cocks off,” snickered Andy.

“Maybe yours, not mine!” Gio laughed. “What did those two cost us?”

Andy thought a moment before answering.

“Ten pounds of sugar, twenty of flour, and five of butter.”

“Where did you get it?”

“Stole it!”

Their flight was met in Algiers by an aid to Colonel Dickenson. Gio would leave from there, by submarine, on the next leg of his journey and Andy would base in Algiers until he was able to travel to Italy’s east coast, once the hostilities would allow it, where Gio would end up, eventually! This was provisional on nothing happening to Gio in the meantime.

Dickenson reviewed Gio’s mission with the two of them. Gio was to be put ashore north of Rome and south of Pisa, would be met by two Partisans, and taken inland to an area which had a large German military presence, a supply depot, and a command center. Sicily was under invasion by the Allies and would soon fall according to Dickenson, citing Army Intelligence.

Gio’s operation/mission would begin as soon as he landed and was in place. A “significant” event causing some disruption and distraction in the form of an attack was to occur no later than the first week of September, preferably before the first of September.

Dickenson’s briefing included Andy since he had no doubt Gio confided in his aide concerning his mission.

“Remember,” Dickenson said, “this is not an intelligence gathering mission, although we list it as such and other top brass are being led to believe it is, but a mission to disrupt, distract, cripple the leadership, and cause the regular soldier to be scared shitless, so to speak. One way to cause significant problems is to attack the command centers and personnel. Cutting off the head of the snake, if you know what I mean!”

“The Germans and some of their Allies have committed and will continue to commit some of the most despicable and horrendous deeds imaginable to the populations and to captured troops of our Allies. Turnabout is fair play—in spades!”

After Dickenson left, Gio and Andy took the opportunity to discuss their own strategy should anything go awry, specifically if something should happen to Gio.

“If something should happen to me, I’ll head for Porti Sicuro along the coast. I have relatives there.”

“How will I know?”

“If the name ‘Isaiah’, a Biblical Prophet, should appear any where in the radio message sent to you, it means I’m in trouble and headed for Porti Sicuro. You’ll find me there, either alive or dead!”

It was a sobering thought for Andy and one he really didn’t want to speculate about.

The day Gio left, before vacating their quarters, he paused, hugged Andy closely admonishing him, “To care of yourself. When I get back, we’ll go home to Ravenwood. You’ll love it there!”

It was all Andy could do to contain the extreme emotion he felt and the tears threatening to erupt from his eyes, fearful for the wellfare for the man he so loyally served and loved more than a brother.

“You do the same, Captain,” he responded. “Remember there are those who love you and want you home. So do I, dammit, so don’t go off and get yourself killed!”

Stepping through the doorway, as much as an afterthought, Gio turned and asked,

“How much did that lad cost us last night?”

“A goat!”

“Where in the hell did you get a goat?”

“I stole it!”

Andy chose not to accompany Gio to the docks where a small craft waited to ferry him out to the submarine. Shuddering at the very thought of being enclosed in a metal tube under the water, frightening him to the point of shitting or pissing himself, he decided to head to the Communications Center to make certain the small space he was to occupy was available and secure. It would be there Gio’s messages would be sent in code for Andy to decode, evaluate, and send on to Dickenson or whoever was designated. If written communication or packages were somehow smuggled out of the warzone, Gio would open them, evaluate them, and send on to the destination Gio desired.

Shortly after mdnight a day or so later, Gio was put ashore, with all of his gear, on a secluded beach on the western shore of Italy. He was met by two Partisans, identifying themselves as Rudolpho and Orsino.

They each shouldered one of Gio’s bags while he carried a smaller one containing his radio, pistols, knives, and special items produced according to his instructions to the OSS “magic makers.” A short distance from the beach, sheltered in a copse of trees, a donkey hitched to a small cart waited. The gear, except for the bag Gio carried, was stowed in the cart and the two men, one leading the donkey, made their way on a narrow trail to a small farm house about five miles (approximately eight kilometers) away. It was located in an area a person would have to look more than just closely in order to find it.

“We’ll rest here a bit,” Rudolpho announced. “The city is not far and we’ll head in there in the morning. Travel at night is not really advisable since German patrols watch the roads closely at night. There’s a safe place to stay there and base our operations from.”

Orsino checked to see if Gio’s identification papers were the same as was needed. Assured they were, he gave the okay to Rudolpho.

The city was crawling with German soldiers when they arrived in the morning. There was no problem going through checkpoints! Gio was quite well disguised as an old man (with a walking stick) on his way to visit his daughter. Stowing his gear at the safe house, the three headed to a plaza in the city, where Gio found a couple of older gentlemen to visit with while Rudolpho and Orsino reconnoitered the “target” they thought would serve their purpose.

The two older gentlemen seemed to accept Gio’s presence with little concern, noting “during these times, it’s good to see family,” when Gio mentioned he came to the city to see his daughter.

Gio spent three days visiting, becoming acquainted with, and gaining the trust of the two older gentlemen. He didn’t press any issue, only listened, nodded when necessary, and spoke excellent Italian. They had no idea he wasn’t a native of the country. They were, however, a little suspicious he might be a Facist, but that seemed to ease as the days moved along.

Nights were spent exploring the city of thirty thousand plus. He moved on foot and by bicycle since it wasn’t practical to travel by car or anyother motor vehicle. Not only would it draw attention, but would take gasoline (petrol) which was scarce for civilians. Namew of streets, escape routes, and locating the wealthier, almost exclusive neighborhoods, now under the control and occupied by the Nazi’s, their allies, or sympathizers were all cataloged to memory. During his night-time sojourns throughout the city, he wasn’t challenged by anyone of authority, mainly because he made certain he was unobserved, moving silently, almost invisiably in the darkness of night. He was thankful for the experiences he’d had with his Uncle Freddie and avoiding the Home Guard in Germany. He actual concluded the Germans were quite lax in their security and concerns there might be problems coming from the outside. They were more concerned with the activities of the Partisans in the area and throughout the country.

Gio carried, in a musset bag with a shoulder strap, his disguise, domino cape, and skull and crossbones mask. Tucked in there was well were his little flags, his .22 cal. Pistol loaded with “dum dum” bullets. He had cartridges loaded with special hollow point lead bullets in order to do maximum damage to anything they hit. The knives he needed, he carried in his belt, along with a small flashlight or “torch” as the Brits referred to the light.

He also joined Rudolpho and Orsino in checking out the fuel depot they targeted for destruction, arguing it would be a massive explosion which would be the desired distraction they were advised to create. Gio didn’t disagree with them, neither did he outright approve. Quietly, he just didn’t seem to think it would be demoralizing enough to the enemy soldiers or attack the “head of the snake” to really bring about a distraction of country wide attention causing the German Command to take notice and perhaps focus resources on it rather than someplace else.

On the fourth day of visiting with the old men, he casually mentioned he hadn’t seen any young people, boys and girls around. He wondered if the city was populated by only the old or soldiers.

“I notice no young people about,” he said and waited for some type of comment.

The two older gentlemen, looked at each other, raised their eyebrows, and then looked around them to see if anyone was close enought to overhear what they might say.

One finally, speaking softly and conspiritorially, “They are in hiding!”

Gio nodded his understanding and using the same voice, without looking at either man, commented,

“The Germans seem to enjoy the company of the young ones!”

“Especially,” added the man, “if the German general is planning his annual birthday party in a couple of days.”

“It is well they are hidden then!”

To be continued...

Posted: 07/29/2022