Cold War Spy Story: Part Quattro


‘Now everybody listen up. My name is Petty Officer Second Class 🚢 Boten Daddy! This is named Mission Trujillo. We’ve got shit-covered Krasnovian OPFOR in the AO. They are planning a diversionary assault on the airfield. A team of Army Airborne-Ranger-Special Forces-Commando-Opertaives or some whatever the fuck team is going to be there to secure the far end of the airfield as a blocking position. They are being lead by some fucking Two Star General Fraunifaisce. I did not, I repeat, did not make up that name. Any frakke?”

We were inside a GP large ultra-extreme-American-covert 🦅 compound with dim ‘tactical’ blue light and double flaps. I was selected to give the final mission brief.

“All of your training back at Eglin and Bilbao was directed towards this activity. This is not a drill. Don’t make President Carter (pronounced Khor-tair) look bad.”

I said.

The sailors, marines and airmen on Strike force Zulu were geared up for the mission. Strike Force X-Ray were the Army team going in by ground.

“We will do a sea 🌊 borne insertion exactly as trained. We hit the beach at precisely 0345 hours then we sit. Supposedly a team of seaborne Krasnovian OPFOR will be scouting the beach 🌊 at 0200-0300 then they will land at 0400. We will be ready.”

(Note to readers: Krasnovian OPFOR were a real All-Communist Spetznaz special operations force supported by all known Bolshevik Kommunist régimes. They disbanded in 1991 when they lost funding.)

I droned on for about a half hour with various military bullshit that no one listened to.

“Operations Order blah, blah, blah Intel blasé’ blasé blasé. Orientate your compass yada, yada, yada. Synchronize Swatches und so weiter…”

Apparently eine Deutschen Demokratischen Republik operativen Mannschaft Apparatchiken were leading the raid in hopes of total Socialist Revolution against the Imperialistichen Kapitalistischen running 🏃 dog 🐶 paper 📝 tiger 🐯 would cause an uprising of the campésinõs blah, blah, blah. Our job was to stop them. Then he appeared. A sunglasses 😎 wearing Washington douchebag civilianistsa pimp-looking character stepped in front of me.

“OK, you all heard this stupid man-cunt swabby butchering of the OPORD. I guess the shit-covered retards f4990+ chickens 🐔 are running the goddamned poultry farm now. A so-called ‘man’ like this Petty Officer Botendaddy would have been raped directly in his red-hot anus back in ‘Nam, you goddamned f4990+5! Here’s the scoop from the top. Now I want to say…”

He stopped mid-sentence because I punched him so hard, he was knocked out stone 💎 cold from seven different camera angles.

“Fuck that douchebag boys, let’s gear up and get out of here.” I said. We went out to the boats 🚣 to be dropped off on the little deserted offshore Island 🌴.


“I was sitting alone in a cabana by the beach 🌊. It was a stormy day at the shore. I had ordered all you can eat shrimp 🍤, you know, peel and eat with that powder they throw on it. They had ample cocktail 🍹 sauce. It was nice to be alone and away from the training.

It all didn’t seem very secure though. Intel had intercepted  A communiqué (I have no idea what communiqué means) at any rate, after eating my shrimp and getting dirty looks from all the waitresses or whatever they’re called… serving people…

I don’t know 🤷‍♀️, so I was there in my navy fatigues looking all sailor-like but I was young, 19 but in the Navy just over two years, but because at the time, the services, desperately depleted after Vietnam 🇻🇳.

So, with the all draft military they needed people that actually weren’t completely brain-dead so I moved up in rank rather unexpectedly and quickly and I got some interesting assignments.

I was going to join the Army ‘Airborne-Ranger-Special Forces’ only to find out that they really didn’t exist and were just made up by Hollywood bull 💩 artists.

The young women at the Cabana were totally repulsed by my existence and made no attempt to be civil. So I went into the town to the Korean Whore-House and Kimchi joint. I had trouble finding the right place but an aged petite Madame Kim was there.

“Hi, Madame Kim, I’m a local sailor and I heard you had a lady down here who is blonde, fat, German and 63 years old.”

“Oh you want older woman to make Bulkgogki? I bring out lady 37 year old she good. She make you Kimchi!”

“Madame Kim, when you go to the grocery store and you ask for Steak and they bring you chicken 🍗 are you happy 😊? No you are sad 😭 because you want what you asked for. I can go down the street to any filthy Whore-house but I came here. I want old, not older.”

Being from a wealthy old family I waved a stack A FUCKING STACK of Ben Franklins. Her eyes lit up.

“She not in today she no work Saturday. She wait tables. Me 67 years old but I handle restaurant, but me could still handle massive American sailor-cock, mass-ive cock you think you bad, fat boy? You fuck me now. Kick those motha-fuckin’ Franklins fat boy!”

So my dear readers, I literally almost f@&@ed her into oblivion, despite her advanced age, she was able to handle my gargantuan torqued-out 19 year old gnarled ghastly  Godzilla-like love ❤️  weapon. It was the most utter sloppy degradation I could do to the poor lady.

“Is that all the meat 🍖  you got fat boy? Give me more, you damned white-face, go to the devil! More Franklins me keep going, you ghost-faced devil sailor boy!”

After a ritual bath 🛀 in the filthy little shower 🚿 we sat in her restaurant for excellent Kimchi and Bulkgogki.

“You come back again next Saturday fatboy. Me like you, money talk and bull 💩 walk. You not 💩-y cheapskate like most sailors no even leave tip! You rich blue-blood I can tell! You welcome here!”

Then I looked at the photo of a young Korean-American sailor on the wall only to realize in horror that it wasn’t a whore-house! It was just a goddamned Kimchi joint! I had just literally, for a solid hour and a half f@&$ed the living 💩 out of Ensign Kim’s grandmother 👵! I literally had soaked her with my pungent, foul-smelling, sticky spermatozoa in every orifice that I was able to man-handle!

The problem was, Ensign Kim was my commanding officer. If he found out I f@&$ed his grandma 👵 and treated her like a filthy whore and paid her for such degrading defilement I would be in beaucoup trouble.


Monday formation Ensign Kim came out to inspect the troops.

“One of you perverted bastards engaged in aggressive but unfortunately voluntary sexual intercourse with multiple ejaculations of pungent spermatozoa into several of my aged grandmother’s orifi! She has a stack of Franklins, a huge grin on her face and she is literally dripping spermatozoa! When I find out who did it, I will send you on the shittiest mission to the most dangerous part of Central America! BOTEN-DADDYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!”


The raid never happened. It was my custom to dress 👗 in civilian clothes and go on walkabout (pronounced walk-a-bite) in the evening dusting of snow ❄️. I may have had some inside Information I was told by my Arabian friend that {CLASSIFIED TSSCI NOFORN UNTIL 28 DECEMBER 2019 ORDER OF DOD} so I walked right past the hôtel du Kirchboim. I stopped in to find the night desk attendent engrossed in a game of Yahtzee. To this day I have no idea what Yahtzee is. The attendent was a 🌈 so he offered me a Latté. I can’t say what transpired next, {CENSORED USDA} but he gave me an extra key 🔑 to Chambre xiv. I walked back to our hôtel.

“Listen up kids. These guys are really stupid. Gear up. No rehearsal. Let’s go. The  snow is heavy, wear your winter ❄️ whites extreme combat alpine uniforms. Everything white like the snow ❄️.”

I whispered.

“How do we get out of here without being noticed.” Also gefragt Délàcrôîx.

“Back stairs.” Said Holmes.

“We will be under cover of das Schnee ❄️ Stürm once we get onto die Straßen.” Also sprach Röchibäüld.

“Kill team or neutralize with non-lethal force?” Also wunderte Jones.

“If they are still asleep 😴 we will creep 👀 in muzzle them and literally beat the shit out of them, tie 👔 them up, throw them into the van and mansport them back to Baum 🌲 holder.”

We filed out silently into the now blinding snow ❄️ storm ⛈ the air was crisp and tasted cold. My eyes 👀 froze at the lashes.

Delacroix and Holmes waited with the Van in the street.

Jones, Röchibäüld and I walked into the hôtél, right past the attendant with a wink 😉 and we silently climbed the stairs.

I unlocked the door 🚪 with the key 🔑. We muzzled the three operatives with duck 🦆 tape. Zip 🤐 tied them and then we literally beat the 💩 out of them.

Röchibäüld photographed the weapons cache and seized papers. I marched the operatives to the van, while Jones and Röchibäüld secured the weapons and documents. Not one word was spoken during the entire operation.

The desk attendant informed the Diekirch Kaserne and local police 👮. He also settled up with our hôtél so we didn’t need to go back. He got a handsome cash reward.

We drove that night all the way to Baumholder where we were met by MP’s and an intel team from Langley. Our team were cleared and then flown that very morning back to Graf. But they took our RAFOV.


The General sat behind his desk. The Suit sat in the corner.

“So you shit-heads did it again. The goddamned ‘C Team’ hits the  big home 🏡 run 🏃. I don’t know 🤷‍♀️ how you pull it off. So now you get what you want. You melt back into the National Guards, then when the next combat assignment comes up, if one ever does, you get dibs.”

Said the General, pacing around the room.

“But one of these days, if I’m still in this man’s Army, I’m gonna pull down your manties and ejaculate hot spermatozoa directly into your red-hot bowels. So you taste me, Lieutenant? Ah the smell of it!”

The General was an odd one.

“Look Botendaddy. You’ll get some award of some kind. This mission will remain classified, but I can’t promise that a new administration. Hell it could be a quarter century before you get that combat patch if you are even still in the Army.”

Said the Washington Suit. And then I realized it was all bullshit. We were just tools. And the General was clearly 🌈.


The green light came on and Strike Force Zulu jumped. Once we were in free fall I checked my audio altimeter. Chutes opened on time and we hit the water 💦. Boats 🚣 were inflated and frog 🐸 man gear was readied. We got a head count, al hands on deck. We rowed to the quay (Pronounced key 🔑). Then we went frogman style into the inlet that went right under Airstrip Uno.

We set up in our position and we waited.

“Did you really f@&$ that old Korean broad like 73 times?”

Asked Ensign Marcos.

“Aye Aye Sir! In every possible manner. She has a great body actually. We’re sort of in a relationship now. I can’t be even remotely attracted to a woman under 50. Ah the taste of it!”

I replied. I checked into the net. Comms were good.

“The Army blocking team is a little late getting into place.”

I told the Ensign.

“No worries, Sir, we’re a little early, so we just sit and wait. That General in charge of their operations is a moron. He was up at Colon. Frowny-face? What a weird name.”

Said Master Chief Moustachhio.

We waited. I thought 💭 about what the resorts must be like. Cancun must be filled with really old broads. I couldn’t wait to see Madame Kim again. We were going to take a road trip together to NYC when I got back. Then in the early morning fog on the beach 🏖 I saw them. Krasnovian Lesbian shock troops accompanied by oddballs speaking Deutsche.

I gave the signal. There were eight Krasnovian frog 🐸 men. We put two sailors on each and we subdued them without a sound. We informed the Army team by radio 📻 as they still hadn’t arrived. What a mass clusterfuck, a Panama 🇵🇦 ian goat 🐐 fuck. We brought the Krasnovian Strike team to the shed.

One of them spoke English.

”My name is Klaus. Kapitalist 🐷  🐖 ! So du bist der sexy Botendaddy, Ja? 👍 Wir können sie sehr gut meiner Geehrter Häär! We are Extréme Röten Schützen-Hund-Wehr Faktiones! XRAF! You Operation is illegal thanks to your wishy-washy sexy Präsident Mann: Tzschimmy Khörtäär.“

“Klaus try an El Ciggarettolo, a Mexican Blend grown at 18,000 feet and hand rolled by neo-Mesozoic Aztheca.”

”Sehr Güte Tabakwaren! So is this where the male prisoners are violated in den Arschlöch by the sexy sailor-man! Ah the smell of it.“


The rest of this Mission is classified. I was later ordered to Colon Panama 🇵🇦 for a debrief. I was met by the psychotic General Fraunifaisce.

”So you were early, we were late. Nice touch Petty Officer Botendaddy. Is that even a real name?”

”As real as Fraunifaisce, Sir.”

”It’s pronounced Frah-kanay-Phy-each-uh!”