There were other soldiers who lived in town. Jane could see where they lived from the yellow ribbons tied around trees and gateposts all along the bus route. Shit, that stuff was as corny as hell, she thought.

“Bet your family’ll be glad to see you home ma’am.” The bus driver smiled.

“Don’t ma’am me sir, I work for a living.” It was an automatic response and the bus drive laughed knowingly.

Tech Sgt Jane Goodman wished she hadn’t worn her uniform now, too many people wanted to share too many clichés with her all the way home. Home, it had been what she had been waiting for, but this time she was nervous.

“Alright girl so you want to go off an play soldiers, well I knew that when I married you. But I don’t know what these damn Iraqis have got to do with us and for god’s sake we have a child now.” Pete had loomed through the door as he spoke, still sweating from a stint at his garage. A big macho man, he would have a made one hell of a soldier, she always thought.

“It’s all I ever wanted to do and besides we need the money.” She replied, hating herself because it came out a whine and not the confident assertion she was aiming for. Damn the man, why did he always have that affect on her?

“Well at least you got that damn straight.” He said reluctantly. “If you must, you must, but I have two conditions.”

Only two, she smiled knowing she had won this round. The same two he had always had from the time they had decided to marry.

“One. Remember I am the man of the house; don’t do anything to damage my delicate little male ego. Not ever.” That one always made her laugh, as if there would ever be anything little about Pete Goodman.

“Two don’t you get yourself killed baby. Don’t you put yourself in harm’s way. You’re not a combatant, so I don’t want to hear of any heroics.”

“I promise.” She smiled and gave him a hug.

That had been before her tour of duty. Now the medal burned in her pocket. She thought it tactless to actually wear it under the circumstances. She had spoken to Pete the night before by phone. Man he was pissed.

She had shared her concerns with Wendy, a long time friend in the service.

“You’re a bona fide all American hero girl, what’s he gonna do? Spank you.” Wendy had offered in her best Harlem drawl. “That man gonna just be happy to have you home baby girl.”

“GI’s don’t get thanked and they don’t get spanked.” Jane had responded with an old boot camp jingle.

“That’s the spirit.” Wendy had punched her arm.

The only problem with that little tale was that it was a lie, Jane thought ruefully. Just 12 years before when she had been a 20-year-old up-with-a-bullet new recruit back from her first tour of duty she had found that out.

“Mom I am home.” She had called as she dropped her kit bag on the kitchen floor.

She paused to admire herself in the kitchen mirror, boots shined, hair pinned neatly and hat on straight, she was every inch a returning hero.

“Mom what’s for dinner I am starved?” She called again.

“So the conquering hero returns.” Her mother said emerging from the cellar.

“I thought you would be glad to see me?” Jane’s face held a half-smile.

“I am.” Her mother softened and moved to embrace her. “It doesn’t mean I have to like you being in the army. I had enough of that with your father.”

“Hell it’s the only life for me.” Jane said cheekily.

“Hey watch your language and get that gear out of my kitchen.” Her mother scolded swatting her on the rear.

“Oh Mom, we say a hell of a lot worse in the army. I am grown woman now. Why can’t you just accept that?”

“Jane Elisabeth Howell, you keep swearing in my own kitchen and I’ll show you a hell of a lot worse, now scat.”

“Pop was right you always were a tight-assed bitch.” She mumbled in irritation as she kicked her kit bag.

“What was that?” Mom snapped suddenly alert.

“Nothing Mom.” Jane said quickly.

“You throwing your father back in my face? Again.”

“You just need to lighten up a little that’s all.” Jane said defensively.

“You go and get washed up.” Mom had pointed to the door like the statue in the town square.

Jane picked up her bag and slouched out of the room in the best tradition of the surly teen.

“Some god-damned homecoming this is.” She muttered.

Watching this childish display her mother’s palm must have itched, Jane now realised as the bus turned on to more familiar streets. Back then she still had a lot of growing up to do.

Things had gotten worse that day. Her mother had decided to redecorate while she was away and Jane had thrown open her bedroom door to the most girlishly girly room imaginable.

“Pink for fuck’s sake. Oh for Jesus fucking sake you have got to be fucking kidding Mom.” She wailed in voice that would have made her drill sergeant proud.

“Jane Elisabeth, you get your caboose down here this minute.” Her mother matched her bellow.

“Mom its just…”

“Get down here now.”

Jane had taken slow sullen steps back to the kitchen. When she got there, Mom’s expression was as keen as a laser beam and would have had the toughest guy in her outfit running for cover. There in her hand was an old friend from high school, her trusty hairbrush.

“You are kidding me Mom.” Jane gaped.

“I am going to wash your mouth out with soap.” Mom growled. “You get over my knee.”

“Mom you can’t I am in the army now, you don’t go around spanking GIs.” Jane said in exasperation. “Look I am sorry. OK.”

“No it’s not OK. But you are right, you are going to be sorry.” Mom had barked taking Jane by the ear.

In a moment Jane had found herself face down in full uniform across her mother’s lap.

“You can’t do this.” Jane wailed.

Her mother ignored her as she unhitched her fatigue pants and shucked them down to meet her oh-so shiny boots.

“I bet these panties aren’t army issue.” Her mother snorted. “Putting some weight on the can as well I see.”

“Mom.” Jane gasped as she felt the aforesaid articles slip down her legs to join her pants and boots.

Moments later the brush had plied its trade and Jane had gotten the soundest spanking ever given in Roundtree County since Betty Parker had been caught necking with the Principal’s daughter in the back of the mayor’s Studebaker. Certainly soundest Jane had ever received.

“Mom.” Jane wailed.

The hairbrush cracked firmly across both cheeks of her bare bottom like a rifle shot from the range, or on reflection like a machine gun, as her mother set a blistering pace.

“Waaa.” The fire that her mother set blazing in her bottom, quickly overtook any embarrassment she felt.

“You are not going to sit down for a week my girl, using language like that in my house. You ungrateful brat.”

The spanking lasted until Jane was sobbing hard and her bottom looked like she had marched to Iraq with it dragging in gravel. This was no way to treat a soldier she thought miserably.

“Not such a heroine of the flag now are we you little brat.”

“No Mom.” Jane boo-hoo-ed.

Once the spanking was done, Jane was dragged over to the sink with her army trousers and panties still at her ankles while her mother plied her mouth with soap.

“Are you going to curse like that again?” The soap ground against her teeth with the words.

“NNNNNNNghh.” Jane replied.

“Alright get to that corner.”

Jane choked on a great heaving sob as she stooped to pull her things up.

“Leave them where they are.” Mom growled.

Jane had spent the next couple of hours with her nose pressed to a laundry list pinned to the kitchen notice board and a very red bare bottom turned to the room.

Not long after her domestic exile there had been a knock at the door and a voice called: “you-ho has our little Janey come home?”

Oh god not Aunt Bunny and Uncle Jim, please let me die now, she thought miserably.

Her mother had been right, she could barely sit down by the time her leave was over.

“Your stop soldier.” The bus driver called.

Jane looked up at the house. No yellow ribbon thank god, she thought. I bet mom has some out when we see her Sunday. But I’ll pass on the swearing and say thank you very nicely, she thought ruefully.

Pete was waiting in the kitchen. Casey wasn’t waiting at all.

“Mommy.” The four-year-old squealed as she made a dash.

Jane scooped her daughter up in her arms and all but crushed the life out of her.

“Is it true mommy that you killed hundreds of towelly heads?” The little girl chirped.

“Don’t call them that honey, they are just folks like us. And no, mommy didn’t kill anyone. I just pulled some folks from a burning truck.”

The last part was for Pete’s benefit.

“You were under fire at the time I hear, told to keep your head down, your boss said, but you went anyway? Your boss sounded real proud on the phone.” Pete said.

She could hear the thunder rumbling in the back of his throat.

“No one else could do it I suppose?” He continued.

“There were others but… I kinda got carried away.” Jane said sheepishly and chewed her lip.

“Did you actually save any lives?”

“Not really.” She admitted. “The medal was just good press on account of it being on TV.”

“Oh I saw that.” Pete growled.

He turned away and balled up his fists into tight knots.

“Casey will be fine with the neighbours while we… talk. I already asked.” He said still not meeting her eye.

“Casey honey, do you want to go and watch TV at Mary’s house?”

“I want to stay with you mommy.” She was as cute as a button.

“If you’re good we can go out for pizza later.”

“Alright mommy. Can I take Tiger?”

Jane looked at Pete blankly.

“Her Tiger, a soft toy, your mom bought it her.” Pete said quietly.

Damn I miss so much, she thought bitterly as she watched her daughter go.

After Casey left the tension was unbearable.

“You promised.” He whispered.

“I know but when you’re out there… no excuse.”

“I understand. Really I do. But when your there and I am here… do you expect me to compromise when you are back here?”

“Never.” She said urgently and ran to him.

At last he smiled and nodded.

“You gonna whop my ass Mr Goodman?” She said in a childish voice.

“You had better believe it.” He growled like a friendly bear.

In a moment she went from standing and in full uniform to folded over his huge lap with her clothing heading south.

“Oh boy are you gonna get it.” He barked as he pulled his belt through the loops of his pants.

The cracks of leather on flesh bounced back off the ceiling with a metallic edge. The sting across her bare bottom matched the echo and not the blows, although it was a moot point as the blows came fast and furious.

“I love you.” There was wetness in his voice and she started to cry herself.

The relief broke her at the knees. She was home.

Ends