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In the spring of 1943 it was warming up in the American southwest. The
war was on in earnest, and military construction was under way in many
formerly isolated areas. Women were beginning to appear in some numbers in
the army, and were no longer a novelty at most military posts. Private
Susan Breckenridge had just a few days ago taken up her duties as a
military driver, and, fresh from her training, was anxious to impress her
comrades and superiors of her abilities and military bearing.

This morning she would have her chance to create that impression. She
was assigned to drive a staff car for two officers, who would be making
inspections of five widely separated sites on which construction of small
satellite facilities was taking place. The sites involved would eventually
become observation posts, ammunition dumps, locations for radar or
communications antennae, all ringing the installation at which she was
based. Susan had carefully studied the maps supplied her, as she wanted to
appear thoroughly familiar with them, and able to quickly drive to the
designated points. The officers she would be taking, a Captain and a Major
of Army Engineers, would be reviewing the various locations in some detail,
probably taking an hour or two at each location. The sites were quite
widely separated, and the roads passed through largely barren and
unpopulated territory. Susan was ready.

Promptly at 0700, Susan parked her car in front of the Engineering Corps
office, a quickly built wooden structure, austere in the military style.
Her staff car was a fairly comfortable vehicle, not difficult to drive,
being essentially a civilian type four door sedan in military markings and
olive drab color. Susan had prepared herself carefully. She was wearing
her army khaki shirt and skirt, a khaki tie tucked neatly into her shirt,
low quarter shoes, and her overseas cap. She waited, standing beside her
vehicle, for her passengers.

Shortly they appeared. She greeted the two officers with a smart
salute, as she opened the doors to the rear seat for them. They came with
briefcases full of papers and wasted little time in amenities. The senior
introduced himself as Major Eldridge, and then indicated the other as
Captain Johanson. The Major made only a quick inquiry of their driver.
"Breckenridge, I understand?" "Yes, sir", she replied with military
precision. "You know the route, I hope? We have no time to lose, and this
is going to take most of the day. Think you can get us there with no
problem?" "Yes, indeed, sir!" was her quick answer. After a quick glance
at her map to insure it was correct, her passengers busied themselves with
their own conversation and largely ignored the driver.

Susan pulled away and began the drive to the first site, some twelve
miles away. The weather was clear and warming, and the drive was not
difficult. Some forty minutes later, she pulled into the gate surrounding
the first destination, and stopped in front of a wooden shack that appeared
to house the local office. Smartly, she inquired, "Will this be all right,
sir?" Hearing a gruff affirmative reply, she sprang from her seat to open
the door for her passengers. They got out immediately, and headed for the
shack. Momentarily, Captain Johanson turned back to her and said,
"Breckinridge, stay with the car. We may be an hour or more. When we're
through, we'll be back here and we need to get away promptly!" She
acknowledged the order with a salute, and returned to her vehicle.

Susan looked out around the location at which she was parked. There was
little there. A wooden shack, another small shed, some construction
machinery scattered about, a bit of construction materials piled up
awaiting use, and a building in progress behind. The whole area was
surrounded by a wire fence, whose gate stood open. Workers, all apparently
men, were in evidence at many points.

One of the men approached Susan, attempted some friendly conversation,
then offered her some coffee. She gratefully accepted, as she waited for
her passengers. The time drew on, and a second cup was offered, and again
accepted. Then her friend left, and Susan was left alone. None of the
other men, she assumed, wanted to appear to be fraternizing with a female
soldier while an inspection was in progress.

She waited and waited. She could see her passengers in the distance, as
they inspected details of the construction work. She hoped they would be
back on time, and not pressure her into a high speed drive to the next
site. While waiting at her car, she had glanced around for some sign of an
accommodation for women, thinking she would use a bathroom if one were
handy. Alas, women were not common here, and no provision for them was to
be seen. Even for the men, all she could see was a makeshift wooden
outhouse in the distance, with a label "Gentlemen" humorously written on
its door. No matter, maybe the next site would be more hospitable.

Finally, the officers appeared. They were running a bit late, and
obviously in a hurry. They settled into the back seat, checked her map
only to insure that she knew the next site, and then busied themselves with
an involved technical discussion.

Susan was proud that she had prepared well and knew her map. It was
nearly an hour's drive to the next location, and she got them there almost
on time. She found a makeshift tented building which appeared to be the
local CP, and positioned her car in front of it. "Carry on, Breckenridge",
the Major admonished, "We'll be back in roughly an hour!" Other than this
brief instruction, she was ignored.

This site was even more primitive. A few tents were scattered about,
although male workers were much in evidence. A foundation was being
poured, and trucks carrying cement entered and left at intervals. Susan
walked over to a tent where she found a water bag hanging. The day was
warming, and she was thirsty. She helped herself to the cool water. Then
she looked about, careful to stray not far from the car. The only
structure she could see that looked remotely like a latrine was a ragged
lean-to set next to an open ditch.

Again, one of the workers approached her. "Getting to be a hot day, for
you, lady?" he inquired of her in an offhand manner. "Care for a cold
drink? Got a bit of lemonade here in my thermos!" She accepted his
proffered bit of refreshment, gulping down the cool liquid. "Anything I
can get you, while you're waiting?" "No", she replied, smiling. "I'm well
taken care of." What she really would like, she thought to herself, was a
bathroom; but he wasn't going to get one for her, and, anyway, in her
modesty she could not think of making such a request to a strange man.

It was a bit past eleven when her passengers returned, eager to be on
their way. Perhaps, she thought, they would pass an isolated gas station
or restaurant somewhere in the area where they might stop, and such a place
would have a ladies' room. Surely, she thought, the officers would
recognize that their female driver would be needing somewhere to relieve
herself.

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The officers, in fact, were so absorbed in their own discussions that
they barely noticed the driver, except to point out once that they were a
bit behind schedule and to urge her to lose no time in getting to the next
stop. Susan thought to herself about asking them to allow a stop for her
comfort, but it was not her place to interfere with the itinerary, and
anyway, she was far too embarrassed to say anything to them about such
things.

At the third site, a bit more advanced than the others, she actively
searched for some sign of a bathroom facility she might use. She was now
becoming quite uncomfortable, as it had been nearly six hours since she had
emptied her bladder, and she had been drinking quite a bit of liquid. Her
search was fruitless, for she saw nothing she could use. She was now ready
to settle for a sheltered place that offered her privacy, but she couldn't
find even that.

Captain Johanson smiled as he came back to the car. He handed her a
cold drink and a sandwich, with the quick comment, "The Major will be along
shortly. Thought you could use a drink and a bit of lunch!" Almost before
she could utter a "Thank you, sir!" he was off again. She started to
consume her snack, trying to think how she could very diplomatically hint
that she needed rather badly to use a bathroom.

Susan thought her chance had come as they headed for sight number four.
They approached a small filling station, a rarity in these barren parts.
"Would you like me to stop for a moment? We could.." she wasn't quite sure
what to say next, but she was cut off. "There's no time to waste with
stops. Didn't you check this thing for gas and water before we left? Is
there any problem?" "No, no, sir!" she blurted out, not quite knowing how
to explain her own problem.

Site number four, as usual, was in the early stages, and she couldn't
find any facilities there, or even a bit of privacy. She gave thought to
driving the car a bit away and making use of the car as a modesty shield,
as there was absolutely no privacy from the men where she had parked it.
She thought better of that, as he had been ordered to stay near the car and
there would be no plausible reason, in the officers' eyes, why it should be
moved.

By now, Susan was miserable. Her bladder was getting badly distended,
and was demanding relief, but she could find none. The whole region below
her stomach was beginning to ache, and when she placed her hand there she
could feel herself hard and swollen. She wasn't really afraid of wetting
herself, as she had not done that since being a small child, but the
discomfort was getting hard to bear.

Finally they left the fourth site, heading for the fifth and last stop.
They were now nearly an hour behind the schedule the Major had set, and he
was impatient. It was not the time to ask for an extra stop or detour.
Susan gritted her teeth, clenched her bladder muscles tightly, and vowed to
hold on. It was past three in the afternoon. She had now gone nearly nine
hours without bathroom relief, and she wasn't sure she could last much
longer.

They pulled into site number five. As her passengers left her, Susan
was hoping, almost against hope, that there would be some place her where
she could relieve herself. She was now really desperate. If she could
find a facility for men, she was ready to ask a man to stand guard and let
her use it. If she could find a private spot behind a pile of bricks, or a
pile of anything, she would settle for that. At length she spotted the
facility for the men - a shack a long way from where she was parked, and on
the other side of the construction work. If she could just walk there, but
to do so would cause her to stray far from the car and into the very area
where her officers were working. She couldn't bring herself to do it.

Finally, necessity overcame her reluctance. She decided to chance it.
She left the car and started to walk toward the place of relief.

She didn't get very far. Captain Johanson was walking toward the car.
"Breckenridge!" he called out. "Where are you going? We need to leave.
Now!" With a bit of a blush, she retraced her steps and resumed the
drivers' seat. At least, she thought to herself, now it's only the trip
back.

But a long trip it was. The officers, as ever involved in their own
conversation, ignored her. She knew the drive was probably an hour and a
half. A glance at her watch told her it was almost five o'clock. Her last
bathroom break had been a bit after six a. m., eleven hours ago. Susan
was more than miserable, she was in pain. She had enforced martyrdom on
her bladder to its very limits. Her entire abdomen ached terribly. Her
muscles were very tired from attempting to suppress urination. She really
could stand it no longer. She was having difficulty driving. Her mind
could think of nothing except her severe abdominal pain.

Her mind getting fogged with her internal torment, she brought the car
to a slow stop at the side of the deserted road. She didn't have any idea
what she could say to her passengers. Her mind wasn't really functioning
at this point -she had only one overpowering need, to relieve her tortured
bladder.

As the car stopped, she didn't even look back at her passengers. She
just opened her door, muttering a terribly embarrassed, "Excuse me, I need
to take care of something!", and walked about twenty feet ahead. The
passengers, she assumed, would have expected her to stop in front of the
car, probably, and check something on the wheels or under the hood, but she
didn't give them a chance to question her. She looked for any sign of some
shelter, a bush, a clump of grass, anything that would shield her modesty;
but there was nothing but the low brown grass. She turned off the road and
took only a couple of steps. There, facing away from road, she squatted
slightly, hauled up her khaki skirt and pulled down her underwear. She
tried to release her dammed up urine, but it took a minute for her bladder
muscles to actually relax enough. To Susan it seemed an eternity, and she
felt that not only her two passengers, but a host of unseen others, must be
watching. Her stream finally poured forth, she was sure easily visible to
everyone.

Susan was amazed at the capacity of her bladder. The accumulation of
eleven hours took a while to discharge. After what seemed forever, her
stream stopped. Quickly, she rearranged her clothes, stood up, and slowly
walked back to the car, keeping her eyes downcast, never once allowing the
possibility of eye contact with the two officers.

Not looking anywhere except at the ground, she returned to the car in
silence and slipped into the drivers' seat. She started the engine, and
began to pull away. Suddenly she was startled by a loud cry.

"Breckenridge! Wait for us!" She glanced around, fearful of what she
would see.

She was stunned. The two officers were not in the car. They were
behind where it had been stopped, but now hastening toward her. She could
see them using their hands to quickly refasten their pants, and it was
quite obvious that they had being doing exactly what she had done. She
stopped the car, having absolutely no idea what to say.

The two officers let themselves into the rear seat. The Major broke
into a big smile, and quickly put her at least a little at ease,
"Breckenridge", he began, "that was a break we all needed. It was a good
idea of yours. Carry on!" The two men laughed heartily.

Her blush subsiding and changing into just a bit of a smile, she started
the car again and resumed the return journey. It was good, indeed, to have
the tension relieved.

END