I was sixteen when I wanted to die.

Peejay's father had completed his time in Germany and was being promoted to Washington as a Lieutenant Colonel. We had had just over three years together, and everyone had come to see us as a couple. We had been steady ever since that first summer. I had no desire to stray, and neither did Peejay.

Peejay brought me the news two days after my birthday. It was one of the happiest days of my life, and now I had one of the worst.

“Can't you stay in school?” I asked, knowing it was a dumb question.

He shook his head. “I already asked. There are several families who would take me in.”

“We'd take you.”

He took my hand. “I know, and if it any consolation, Dad even asked if he could delay the move for us.”

“For us?”

“Yeah. He said it was for my schooling, but I overheard him and Mom talking. She said that the move would break your heart. Then Dad said it would break mine.”

I stared at the ground. “What are we gonna do?” I asked.

“We could get married. We're both sixteen, with parents' consent, we could marry.”

I looked at him and was tempted. We'd been tempted before, and still I had not succumbed to allowing him to make love to me. We had both wanted to, but something held me back. With hindsight, I was regretting it, but I knew that when the time came, it would be a special time.

“No, I do love you and we would make it work, but no.”

“Why not?”

“Because I love you, and it would not be right. We should marry when the time is right. When we are in a position to bear our responsibilities and to make our own way in the world. I'm not ready and neither are you. You have to go to law school, then become the lawyer, and I will become the cop who can arrest the guys you defend, or prosecute or whatever.”

He took me in his arms. “I don't want to lose you,” he said.

“Why should you? My Dad will probably get his next posting soon, so we may be neighbours again.”

“Yeah, to Alaska.”

I smiled.

We just sat together enjoying being miserable.

His folks were right, as it broke both our hearts. They left two weeks later, and I cried for a week. Then I dried my eyes and got on with life, my eyes on the next goal, graduation.

Fate was to deal me yet another hand. For who should come into my life but Marianne, the bigot from my last school. I was seventeen and it was the first semester in my last year, and she was placed in my form room. She neither remembered nor recognised me at first, so I avoided her throughout the entire semester right up until it was close to Christmas. I would get a call from Peejay each week, and we wrote every other day. The Internet was not available yet, but we managed. He would tell me about his new school, the people he met, and I told him about what was happening back here.

I missed him, and despite several really cool guys hitting on me, I wasn't interested. It was this that caused Marianne to remember me. She remembered the little kid I used to be, and she remembered that she decided that I was a lesbian. She started a rumour about me, and I got to hear of it from Carrie who had become quite friendly with the girl. Somehow, she had heard that I might have been a guy and then the rumours that I had had a sex change started.

Despite the many friends I had all telling her she was wrong, and that it was sick to spread lies about me, she persisted, so I had enough. Crude drawings with a girl with a dick appeared all over the school, with my name next to them. I knew who did them and so I waited and bided my time.

It was a week before Christmas, and I was in a foul mood because of a certain monthly event which was visiting me uninvited as usual.

I was in the girls' washrooms, having changed my tampon, and was just washing my hands. Marianne came in with a friend of hers.

“Well if it isn't the she-male. I think it is disgusting to allow perverts in these washrooms,” she said.

I felt the anger build inside me, and I turned and asked her, “Just what the hell have I ever done to you?”

She pretended not to have heard.

“Did it say something?” she said to her friend who was quite embarrassed.

“Marianne, I have a present for you. Just to show how wrong you can be about someone,” I said.

I took down my knickers, withdrew my bloodied tampon, in her plain sight, and thrust it down the front of her crisp white blouse.

“Now tell me I am a she-male. Bitch!” I said, and walked out to replace my tampon in another john. Her screams could be heard a block away.

The true story was spread around very fast, and those who were friendly with her, started to distance themselves from her. She never bothered me again, and would move away whenever I got anywhere near her.

I had a good final year, and graduated with honours. I was eighteen, tall and I thought pretty good looking, I had developed well, and was voted Prom queen. A really nice guy called Russell asked me to go after Peejay wrote to him and asked him to ask me. Peejay knew I would rather not go than be without him, so this was a way round it.

I was sad to leave, but I had out-grown the place. I got a job on the base for a few months, helping in the Security Police admin office. Dad was promoted and got his posting shortly afterwards, and we were sent to, yeah, you guessed it, California.

I had lived in Europe since I was six. So returning to the States was a real culture shock. I spoke German almost fluently and a bit of French. I had made so many friends from the UK that I could speak with a perfect English accent that even fooled other Brits. I had developed a taste for different wines, and I enjoyed food made from basic ingredients. I loathed anything that had a Mac prefix. In short, I was more European than American, and I found California so weird.

Mom wanted me to go to college, and Dad wanted me to join the police. I didn't fancy more school, and Peejay was on the east coast. I packed a bag, caught a plane and arrived in Baltimore just after the university semester had begun. I found he was in halls, and that women were not allowed. So I checked into a hotel and called him. He sounded surprised that I was here, but something made me worried. He was not as anxious to see me as I had hoped, and he was honest enough to tell me why.

“Sherri, I have to tell you, I've been seeing this girl.”

I put the phone down, and at 8 am the following morning, I was on the door step of the Air Force Recruiting office. It took about an hour of my time, but by the end of that hour, I was in the Air Force. I called my Dad and told him. He was pleased, but sad for me when I told him about Peejay. Mom was not so pleased, so I flew home for a month before I had to start training. I had joined the Air Force Security Police, just like my Dad, and was eighteen years old. I was 5'9”, I weighed 135 lbs, and none of it was fat. I spent the month before joining training alongside my Dad's team on his base.

Peejay called several times, but I was never available. He wrote several letters and each was returned unopened. I felt bad, but life had to go on.

I then left home and turned up at Andrews Air Force Base for initial training. I was fitter than any other recruit, and my training Sergeant, Matt Andrews, was an old buddy of my Dad's. This wasn't a great help, as he would expect me to continually shine, and some days I just didn't feel like it. I remained a little apart from the others. That is not to say I was unfriendly, I wasn't, I made some good friends, but I tended not to go out drinking and socialising as much as they did. I passed top of my intake, and was elected to carry the standard on our passing-out parade. I loved the uniform, with the smart shirts, the cravat and the beret. I knew I looked hot.

Dad and Mom were there to watch, and I don't know which one cried the most. It was a good day, and the sun shone on me.

I was a little sad to finish the course as I had made some good friends, but I was eager to move on. Several of the guys had tried it on with me over the past couple of months, but the memories of Peejay were so painful, I had declined all offers. I had been so hurt, that I was not interested in being hurt again. I went on and completed the firearms, specialised searching, investigation, counter-terrorism, driving and computer courses. The really neat thing about all military police units, they made us all corporals, so we had a little rank when dealing with enlisted personnel. I was then given my first overseas posting, RAF Lakenheath, Suffolk, England. The home of the 48th Fighter Wing. It was June 1994.

It was raining when my plane touched down, and I gathered my kit together and with the others dashed through the rain from the foot of the steps to the waiting coach. Summer in England was always a lottery. When the weather was nice, it was a wonderful, but when it wasn't, it was foul. It wasn't a long drive to where I was to be posted. I was shown my quarters, and reported to the SP CO, Captain Milburn. I was given my shift, and told to report to Sergeant Townsend at 06:00 the following morning. I went to the stores and was issued with whatever equipment I needed, including my side arm from the armoury. I chose the Glock 17, as I was already familiar with it from training, and having fired my Dad's on the range.

We were not permitted to carry firearms off base, as even the UK police did not carry guns. However, on base we did, and I was okay with that. There were three bases within a reasonable distance that our unit was responsible for. We had fully marked US cruisers, and special firearms' safes in the trunks, in case we had to travel between bases on the open roads.

There were a few other girls in the SPs, but not that many. The shift was welcoming, so I quickly settled into the routine. Most of it was base security, and occasionally some in-house problems relating to too much alcohol, drugs, petty theft or occasionally unwanted sexual attention. The base was active during the Gulf war after Iraq invaded Kuwait, and we were still on quite a high state of alert. The planes of the 48th Fighter Wing were forever coming and going, and at all times of the day and night. I had been brought up with the noise of planes, so it was nothing new for me, but I could appreciate how some people found it tough to get used to.

There was the Criminal Investigation Department, who investigated crimes that did not come under the jurisdiction of the local English Police. We saw quite a bit of the British RAF Police, and their Ministry of Defence Police, but only when the airmen got in trouble in the towns and cities did we mix with the Bobbies. The police force that covered Lakenheath was the Suffolk Constabulary, the nearest towns were Lakenheath and Mildenhall. The next county was Cambridge, and they had their own county police force. The city of Cambridge, with its university, was about 30 miles to the west. After a couple of weeks, on my day off I went by bus to Cambridge and found it a delightful city, with all the really old buildings, most belonging to the University. It was so nice to be free of the oppressive base atmosphere. I knew lots of US Servicemen and women who rarely went off base at all.

One afternoon I was in Cambridge at around lunch time, I had just done a bit of shopping and was preparing myself for the long walk back to catch my bus, when the sounds of shouting came from behind me. I turned round and saw a uniformed constable trying to separate three men who were fighting. He had lost his distinctive Bobby helmet, which was lying in the road. One of the guys was trying to hit the officer, and the others were trying to take great lumps out of each other. The poor cop couldn't get a hand free to call for back-up.

I went into the baker's shop, and asked the lady behind the counter to look after my bags. Then I asked her to call the cops. I went out to see that one guy was lying on the ground, and the other two were trying to assault the officer. I approached from behind the larger males, and executed a knee strike into the large muscle on the upper part of his leg. He went down fast, and I pinned him down with a wrist lock. The cop was able to restrain the other guy, and call for backup. It arrived in no time, and the cop looked across at me.

He was breathing hard, and sweating. He looked surprised when he saw I was female, and, I guess, reasonably attractive.

“Thanks,” he said.

“No problem. I'm a cop too, so what else could I do?” I said.

He frowned, but his colleagues took the three guys into the van.

I retrieved his helmet and gave it to him.

“You in the job?” he asked, looking me up and down.

“Not yours, I am in the USAF Security Police. I'm based at Lakenheath Base,” I said, showing him my ID.

“Well, am I glad you were here, I was going to take a hiding if you hadn't come to my assistance.”

“No problem. Here, let me go collect my shopping, and I'll come make a statement for your report,” I said, and dashed over and retrieved my bags from the shop.

“ 'ere, that was just like on the telly. Are you a copper too then?” the woman behind the counter asked.

I smiled. “Yeah, but not one like you guys would know,” I said, and ran back to where the officer was. He was explaining what had happened to his patrol Sergeant, and pointed to me as I appeared.

The Sergeant looked at me.

“I hear you saved this idiot's bacon. Thanks.”

“No problem, Sarge. He looked like he needed a hand, and what the hell, I wasn't doing anything else this afternoon.”

He smiled. “Dave Hart tells me you are one of our colleagues from Lakenheath?”

“Yeah, Corporal Sherri Brewster, USAF Security Police, at your service.”

“Well, Sherri, how about coming with us back to the nick, you can do your statement and we will give you as much free tea that you can drink?” the sergeant said.

“That is the sexiest offer I have had this year,” I said, and both men laughed.

I went in the police car to the police station, and was taken to their officers' writing room. I was handed a statement form, so I just wrote my statement for them. I called the base and informed the Officer of the day what had happened, so he noted it on the log sheet. I was taken to their canteen and given a cup of tea by the Sergeant, who told me his name was Rob Evans.

I was aware that I was receiving quite a lot of male attention, and smiled.

“So, why is a stunning girl like you in the Air Force Police?”

“As a chat up line, that stinks, Sarge,” I said, and he laughed.

“Seriously, why aren't you a movie star or a model?”

“Because my Dad was a cop, and I always wanted to be a cop, and the police departments don't recruit until you're over twenty one.”

“How old are you?” he asked, frowning. “Eighteen.”

He looked shocked and surprised. “No way.”

“Sorry, you want to see my birth certificate?”

He shook his head. “No, if you say so, I'll believe it. But you had better watch out, young Dave has fallen in love with you.”

I smiled. “He was the cop in trouble?”

“Yes, it seems that it was a drug deal which went wrong, so one of the men, the guy you so efficiently took down, had several bags of heroin in his underwear, which you successfully prevented him from escaping and getting rid of it. So a good job. My Superintendent will be writing a letter of commendation to your CO.”

“Cool,” I said grinning.

At this point the other cop, Dave, appeared.

“They're all banged up, Sarge, the DS from the drugs team will take them over, so I've handed him all the files.” he said. He then looked at me, flushing slightly. “Thanks, Sherri, I owe you a pint.”

“You're on. When?”

“You doing anything this evening?”

“Nope.”

“Then I'll buy you dinner.”

“Okay, when and where?” I said.

“Do you have wheels?”

“You mean a car, not yet, I've only been here a couple of weeks.”

“Okay, I'll pick you up, do you live on the base?”

“Yeah, I'll meet you by the security gate whenever you want.”

“Seven okay?”

“Fine. Do I dress up, or am I okay in jeans and a tee shirt?”

He paused, and the sergeant chuckled.

“Sherri, you'd look amazing any way you dress. Jeans are fine, but it is up to you.”

He blushed, so I smiled.

They gave me a ride in a cop car up to the base, where I was dropped off by the police post. Needless to say, the guys on duty had heard about my drug bust, and teased me. I had never been on a date, not since Peejay, so I was nervous. It wasn't as if I fancied Dave, I just needed to get out and meet different people. The people I worked with were fine, but they had such limited vision of the world. I was in England, I wasn't interested in living in a miniature replica of America.

I wore a skirt and top, with a jacket in case it chilled off. He was right on time, so I walked out to the road to spare him the whistles from my colleagues. He took me to small pub in a picturesque village. It was a really old pub, with smoke darkened oak beams and walls that had never been straight. Even I had to duck under the beams and doorways, as I had stupidly worn high heels, so these made me almost six foot. Dave was a tall guy, had he been American he would have been a football player, as he was very broad. He was a local lad, born and bred in Suffolk and, like me, his dad was still a cop. He was a nice guy, only 22, but seemed younger in many ways. He was dark and quite good looking, but not the world's quickest thinker. He was pleasant and laughed at my jokes, even though I suspected he didn't understand them all. But he was a good solid reliable guy.

I was a little reserved, so when he dropped me off by the gate, I kissed his cheek, but then he asked if he could see me again.

“If you like.”

“I never asked, but have you a boyfriend?”

I hesitated, and he frowned.

“There is a guy in the states, but I think he has found someone else, so I think I can say, not really.”

He smiled, but we were both aware that I still was tied into Peejay.

Life went on, but I got more and more bored. I loved England and I got on great with the team, but it was the job. It started to drive me nuts. I found the day-in day-out routine of base security, and the mind-numbing training exercises just wore me out. Most of the US Personnel were very compliant, as the UK was a nice posting, so no one wanted to jeopardise their time here. I may have been called a cop, but I didn't feel like a real one. I mixed quite a bit with the local Bobbies, and found them a good bunch. I think I brought a little exotic touch to their lives, so really enjoyed their company.

In the end, the three guys pleaded not guilty to an affray and assault, so I was called to give evidence at the magistrates' court. I turned up with a USAF SP cruiser, in full livery and roof lights. I wore uniform, with my utility belt, minus Glock, of course. With my beret, I know I looked real smart, and reported to the police room before the case was called. Dave was there, and he grinned when he saw me in uniform.

“Bloody hell, Sherri, you look fantastic,” he said, and I found myself blushing.

The case was called and Dave gave his evidence first, while I sat outside. I was called next, and ran through my evidence. This was the first time I had given evidence in a criminal court case. I had made reports to military courts, but that was well different. I was asked questions by the prosecutor, and then cross examined by the defence lawyers. My evidence of what I saw and the reasons that made me intervene were sufficient. The defence lawyers failed to budge me from my original testimony. They tried to infer that I was confused and panicked, but I vehemently opposed their inference. In the end, the cases against all three men were proved, and I found myself on the front page of the local paper:

Local Bobby saved by Blonde Bombshell.

PC David Hart stepped in to intervene to stop a fight between three local men in the High Street, six weeks ago. Unfortunately, the men, Michael Dawson (19), Richard Parrish (18) and Simon Gathergood (21), targeted the officer and started to resist and assault him. The officer was struggling with the men, and finding it hard to call for assistance on his radio. Pretty Sherri Brewster (18), appeared out of nowhere, and immediately took down six-foot three Gathergood and restrained him while PC Hart was able to summon assistance.

PC Hart said, “I looked round and saw a really pretty girl simply drop the big man and put an arm lock on him. She was so slick and professional, it was such a relief. Lots of people watched, but she was the only person to help me.” Other officers were quick to arrive and the tree men were all arrested and charged with fighting. But the blonde beauty was more than a pretty face, she disclosed that she was a Corporal in the USAF Security Police based at the local Airbase, and was more than capable of taking care of herself.

“I saw these guys beating on the poor cop, and thought, that ain't right, so I helped out. I'm a cop too, and we got a duty to help each other.” Giving evidence in Cambridge Magistrates Court yesterday, Corporal Brewster appeared in uniform, and gave an excellent account of herself. The magistrates took only minutes to find the case proved and dished out fines and community service to the three men, who had all pleaded not guilty to public order offences and assaulting the officer. Sherri's actions were praised by local Superintendent Stephen Harrison.

“Corporal Brewster is a shining example of the excellent relations we have with our American colleagues, and she is a courageous and gutsy girl."

Needless to say, this went down well with my Commanding Officer, who gave me a citation of his own, for actions beyond the call of duty.

Dave saw me a couple more times, and we instigated a bowling evening with the Base SP's against the local Bobbies. However, Dave, as nice as he was, just clearly operated at a different level to me, and we both realised that we would never be anything more than good friends. We had a deep discussion one evening at that same pub, and he was clearly uncomfortable about something. It turns out that he had met a girl, but wanted to make sure with me that I wouldn't mind him seeing her.

“Of course, you must. We both know that although we like each other a lot, we are just too different, so a relationship is not likely,” I said, and his brow lifted.

“I thought you would get hurt,” he said.

I reached out and squeezed his hand.

“Sweet Dave. My last boyfriend hurt me, so I am very cautious about falling in love. So as long as you don't mind me being a friend, you go ahead, and ask me to the wedding,” I joked, and he looked a little relieved.

We parted as friends, but life became dull again. A new pilot, a Lieutenant, fancied me from afar, and started sending me flowers. His name was Grant McCulloch, and we went on a couple of dates. He seemed to feel that that was sufficient for me to sleep with him, and we parted. One thing I wasn't was a cheap lay. Peejay still haunted me, as there wasn't a day that I didn't think of him.

They sent me on a couple of courses. One was over in Germany, so I managed to catch up with some friends over there. I returned to Lakenheath to find a message waiting for me. It was from my Dad.

Sherri.

Not heard from you for a while, how's it going? Your Mom and I have been talking retirement, now all our birds have flown. We are planning to buy a place in Florida, St Petersburg Beach. I have a couple of buddies there, and the weather will be nice all year round. Oregon is nice, but we can't face the cold winters. Melanie has graduated from College, and has stayed on to get her Masters. So we will have a teacher in the family soon. Will has started his own sports-wear company, and is doing well. John J is now a sergeant too, can you beat that? He has been approached by an aircraft company, and is considering leaving the Air Force. And Rod has finally asked Jennifer to marry him, and she has agreed. So there will be a wedding in the summer.

Peejay still calls, how about you give the guy a break, it's almost a year now? Just talk to him, honey, it can't hurt. You never know, he might love you as much as you still love him.

(I now understood why he wrote, he knew that I would not talk about Peejay on the phone, and I called home once a week.)

I heard good things about you through the jungle drums. I'm proud of you girl.

Take care and be good.

Lots of love

Dad.

A piece of paper fell out of the envelope. I picked it up. It had a telephone number on it. It was a Baltimore number, with ‘PJ' written next to it. I put the paper and the note back into the envelope, and returned to my room. A flight of F16s took off, making the windows rattle. I realised that this was not what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.

I completed a couple of shifts, and was sitting by myself in the club when my Sergeant, Eddie Townsend, approached me.

“Can I join you, or is this wake for one?” he said, and he drew a reluctant smile out of me. He sat down next to me anyway.

“So, the post honeymoon blues hit ya?”

I looked at him.

“It hits everyone, some harder than others. I nearly jacked it in at about this time.” he said, and took a long pull on his Budweiser.

“I just can't see me doing this for the rest of my career,” I admitted.

“It ain't what you wanted, was it?”

I shook my head.

“Your Dad called me,” he said, taking another drink.

“Oh yes, I suppose he wanted to know why I was so miserable too?”

“Nah, he knows, but he was decent enough to tell me.”

I stared at him in surprise. He smiled.

“Look Sherri, you are a stunning girl, with all the right qualities, but you are in the wrong job. You look fantastic in the uniform, and you are great at the job, but I have to admit, it ain't for you.”

“So?”

“So, you're nineteen, you have looks, charm, intelligence and a wicked sense of humour, and a body that sends guys wild. You don't want to waste the best years of your life in this Godforsaken place.”

“I signed up for three years.”

“Yeah, but there are ways round that.”

“Are you saying you don't want me here?”

“No kid, if you want to stay, then I'll be happy to have you. But ask yourself this, do you really want to do this shit any more?”

I looked out of the window, as more rain fell from the grey sky. It was supposed to be May, I'd been here for eleven months. It felt like eleven years. I had been in the service for nearly a year and a half so far.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“I don't know what I want, but it isn't this.”

“Okay, how do you want to play this?”

“How do you mean?”

“Your Dad said you wanted to be a cop, a real one, is that right?”

I nodded.

“And you still do?”

I nodded again, and he shook his head.

“Dumb blonde. Okay. Find a PD that wants you, and see if you are qualified. If not we will get you whatever courses they want you to have, and then I'll see if we can get you a special transfer.”

“You can do that?”

“As I said, there are ways. But you have to find the job.”

I cheered up immensely and called Uncle Lou in Oregon. He was delighted to get my call, and said that he'd speak to the chief. It was no big deal, as Freetown was a small town, and he was a good buddy of the chief.

I hung up the phone, and remembered my Dad's note. I took out the envelope, and looked at the number, I didn't have the courage, so I put it away again.

Things happened rapidly after that. The chief said he would be pleased to have me, but I would have to take the State Law enforcement exam, just to ensure I was qualified to do the job in Oregon. Eddie asked for a formal request from the PD, and managed to fix my early release from the Air Force. I arranged to sit the exam, and was sent through the material I had to study. Most of the general law I already knew, but the State law was new to me. I had an exam date, which would be done by mail, as long as my supervisor guaranteed the integrity of the paper.

I would have nearly two years in by the transfer date, so as long as I passed, I would go straight in as a patrol officer. My goal was set, and I put everything else aside, and when the time came, I passed without dropping a mark. I saw Christmas 1995 come and go, and then I was away.