Her wrists were bound together and tied to an upper post. Her feet were bound to the lower post on the same side. Donald lay on the carpet, hogtied. B...th had pissed themselves. “Mm-M!” Our daughter wept upon seeing me. Her eyes and cheeks were already wet. My husband’s eyes scanned both of us wildly. He made pig noises.“What’s taking you so long, Cunt?” Terry hollered from the living room.“I went to the police.” I wept at them. “They were suppose to protect us. It’s not my fault!” I said before. It was at this threshold of my young life that I met Master Sergeant Casimir Kazmarek (RIP), U. S. Army; husband and through him, his wife Connie and their family. Our acquaintance grew out of my role as newspaper neophyte and his, as public information NCO of the Army camp in our town.He was a very tall and lanky man, thin faced, intelligent and inquiring piercing brown eyes, a narrow face, pencil moustache, dark complexioned and spoke in a rumbling base voice. When we met he was in his mid. More

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