It was opened and I looked into a room full of all kinds of communication equipment in it and the windows were painted over with thick white paint.“...ou know how to type?,” was his first question.An old joke in the Army was how you never admit you know how to do anything, don’t volunteer. I’d done it in basic training, admitting I knew how to drive a truck and I ended up with an Army issue drivers license to spend one whole weekend everybody else had off, me doing guard duty all night long. ..kinda...that is, I need to...well, I'd *like* to askyou some questions about what boys think okay?" When Jeanwas uncertain of herself, she often placed an interrogatoryinflection on the last part of her sentences as if to say,"You know?" Only if you share with me...tit for tat, girl. I'lltell you things what you wanna know -- if you tell me what Iwanna know...and no mincing around either. Fair?" It wasalways better to establish the rules of engagement withJean. More often, she was willing to. More

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