Before she'd really given the matter nearly enough thought, the hot tap was steaming and the blouse was being doused in its cascade, the fabric rubbed...against itself vigorously as she strove to remove the offending symbol. Regrettably, the stain merely blotted and ran, ingrained in the thread. The best she could do was to make it look less like a swastika and more like a shapeless blob of diluted blue. Yet now, not only did she have a stained blouse but a soaking wet one. Suddenly the. By the time my senior year came around, I had begun to hang around moregirls than I did guys. Looking back, I guess I just found that they wereeasier to talk to, and that conversation was less painful. I didn't enjoyall the crude sexual references that were made by the people I used togroup myself with (though I still did talk to them in the halls and in anyclasses we shared), and I thought that the girls were much more competantand rational.To be honest, I don't think that I was even. And being trained.When Bill said he had one of every single engine trainer, he meant it. The 'exercise' taught the youngsters a lesson or two ... or three or six. Combat between equals is something never forgotten ... it's an experience that 98% of American pilots haven't had since Vietnam ... shooting machine-guns at and being shot at by machine-guns in return.Missiles are considerably less personal than bullets and these old men knew the difference ... more than once.Air combat ... if you. His steady polite voice and easy manner did not fit her image of the man she had only seen in pictures. He was older than she was by a few years if the pictures she had seen were current. They showed a tall burley man with a neutral expression wearing an old beat up cowboy hat. Not what you expected the president of an oil company to look like. No expensive suit and tie. She had to admit she was curious also. Jana took a deep breath and said, ‘Maybe I have over reacted a little.’ She paused a.