supermen. Chapter One, Part Six Barry December 8th, 1914, Salisbury Plain, England “What is it about these boys,” Garric asked, “that makes getting laid in a new country so damn important?” “It burns, sir; I’ve got the French sickness again,” said Gardiner. “It’s not the French sickness, Gardiner.” “No, sir, I didn’t mean anything. It’s… gonorrhea.” “And when did the contact occur?” “A day ago; maybe day and a half.”   “Right. So wash up over there while I get the needle.” Garric took a bottle of Protargol solution off the shelf, and a syringe.   “You know, these diseases have such an effect on our boys, you’d think the jerrys had figured out how to poison the women,” Allen said, and then “cough.”  Warren did. “It’s just a sprain, not a hernia, and it should be fine in a few days. Come again if it persists beyond that.” The boy pulled his trousers up, saluted, and walked off.   Gardiner stood in front of Garric with his hands held sheepishly over his genitals. “This is going to hurt, but you know that. And the next time some Irish girl makes eyes at you, I want you to remember,” he jabbed the needle between Gardiner’s fingers, “just what the consequences are going to be.” Gardiner looked at the floor. “Yes, sir.” “Let it rest a few days, and stay away from excessive physical exercise.” He glared down his spectacles at him, and the boy blushed, “Next time be wary of loose women.” Gardiner nodded then slunk away.   "You think it's the last time we'll see him?" "Of course not. I think we're going to have to deputize the boy. Pretty soon he'll be better at treating venereal disease than we are."   Next Part