Date: Wed, 7 Mar 2018 00:21:01 +0100 From: James Rozo Subject: A Brat's Peregrination-3 A Brat's Peregrination - 3 By Ensign James Rozo, USN - - - - - - - - - - - - - Author's Note: Immense gratitude is extended to Frank Cooper. His sagacious advise, technical suggestions, and editorial recommendations have greatly improved this story. Thank you Frank. - - - - - - - - - - - - - Chapter 3: Confirmation Time, tide, and formation wait for no man. Four weeks into Plebe Summer 53 have already fallen-out. An intense 7-week indoctrination into military life, the Naval Academy program severely stresses plebes and teaches perseverance in the midst of adversity. Breaking down individuality, establishing the supremacy of the team, it plays an essential role validating membership worthiness. And the more brutal the experience the stronger the bond between the plebes. "Sir, reporting as ordered sir," announces Hopkins. "Very well plebe. Follow me," commands the 1/c midshipman. Taking a circuitous route to avoid watchstations they descend into the bowels of Bancroft Hall. Comprised of eight wings, five upper decks, several subterranean levels, and 4.8 miles of passageways, Mother B is the world's largest dormitory. Expecting the worst, Hopkins braces for potential hazing. Although the Navy doesn't condone the practice there is a long standing tradition of abuse at Annapolis. While unable to physically beat plebes anymore, hazing still continues in more stealthy forms. Hopkins, however, is well liked by the upperclassmen. And his father's flag level rank garners their respect. No, this is something different. And that's never good. Unbeknownst to the plebe a current 2/c midshipman is a prior - a fleet bluejacket stationed aboard USS Daniels a few years ago. Remembering the golden-haired brat, he recounts stories about the teen servicing the appreciative crew. Well hidden, there is a gay underground at Annapolis. Many secret societies exist at elite universities - Skull & Bones at Yale, Quill & Dagger at Cornell. The most renowned is Cambridge University's venerable Conversazione Society - its undergraduate members famously known as apostles. Dedicated to intellectual pursuits and social change, the subversive apostles advocate acceptance of homosexuality in society. Graduates, known as angels, rising to influential leadership positions, work towards advancing the ideals of utopian Greek life. The Naval Academy has the Navigators. The mainstream Christian ministry helps midshipmen develop a personal relationship with Jesus Christ through biblical teaching, worship, and fellowship. A secret splinter-sect, however, has a different perspective. Rejecting the exhausted dogma of traditional thought, charting a new course, they worship divine masculinity and universal brotherhood. Their mission is the cultivation of a homosexual moral, cultural, and spiritual ethos in the Navy. With constancy of purpose, graduates advance the glorification of masculinity in the Fleet. Subtly shaping policy within the Pentagon, the adherents envision a day when gay officers and men can serve openly in the world's most powerful navy. But until then they must operate in the shadows. Possessing spiritual masculine gifts of outward energy, strength of spirit, and righteous power, Hopkins' destiny is preordained. Worshiping the earthly embodiment of his god, selflessly servicing sailors, he has already commenced the spiritual journey towards enlightenment. A 2/c midshipman advocate presents the plebe's case. Impressed, the sect's recruiters decide to interview the novice, evaluate his potential, and judge his commitment to their cause. Traversing restricted utility tunnels the guide navigates the underground labyrinth. Like the directional indicators in the city of Pompeii, the faint outline of Priapus points the way. Hopkins' life soon will be forever changed. Combating the dark, occasional incandescent fixtures provide sparse illumination - casting portentous shadows. Their footfalls echo harshly through the silent corridors... every step a risky proposition. Restless preta and indigenous feral creatures wander through the accumulated detritus. "We're here," advises the 1/c midshipman. A massive teak door adorned with nautical and mystical symbols wears the patina of time. Above, carved in the lintel is "Nosce Te Ipsum" - Know Thyself. The guide knocks thrice, an inside bolt releases, and the door slowly creaks open. Like a ship's bridge after sunset, the chamber is bathed in low-intensity red light to maintain night vision. The unsettling eerie nimbus inspires fear and thoughts of impending disaster. Taking a measured breath the plebe calms himself. Gestured forward he enters the inner sanctum. Closing the door the guide remains outside guarding the entrance. Remote and isolated, disconnected from all activity above, the chamber is a safe haven for uninterrupted meetings, ritualistic ceremonies, and dangerous liaisons. Five figures emerge from the shadows cloaked in ceremonial robes... firsties and stripers. United in purpose, the recruitment curia quickly converges and surrounds the disoriented plebe. With adrenaline surging Hopkins' senses are heightened. Standing at attention, respectfully silent, he awaits destiny. Wearing enigmatic facial expressions communicating mystery and secrecy more powerfully than words ever could, they study the young plebe. For the last four weeks Hopkins has demonstrated commendable alacrity in the accomplishment of arduous assignments. While most plebes are miserable, depressed, and questioning their decision to attend the Academy, Hopkins is ebullient... fully embracing the experience. Immersed in regimentation, surrounded by hundreds of young virile males, drinking in their potent masculinity, he loves everything about Annapolis. "Welcome plebe," greets the leader. "This meeting is top secret. Do you swear a sacred oath of silence to never divulge anything seen or heard?" "Sir, yes, sir." "Very well. You will be asked difficult questions and face seemingly impossible choices. Consider your responses carefully, speak truthfully, and remain faithful to your highest convictions." Hopkins starts to perspire. Another member, the inquisitor, addresses the plebe. "You have been observed enjoying the company of enlisted men at the Norfolk Fleet Recreation Center. Is this true?" "Sir, yes, sir." Terrified, Hopkins' worst nightmare is coming to fruition. Believing his sexual inclinations are known, his face is a priceless portrait of shock, fear, and dread. "Reliable sources have also reported on your unconventional interests, special qualifications, and devotion to the Fleet. Do you deny this?" asks the inquisitor, tightening the noose. Unable to breathe, Hopkins knows he's fried. "Sir, no, sir." "So plebe, are you a homosexual?" - - - - - Flashback Four Weeks - - - - - Ex Scientia Tridens: From Knowledge, Sea Power. Reporting to Annapolis, midshipman candidate James Hopkins III enters the Yard with excited anticipation. Located by the confluence of the Severn River and Chesapeake Bay, immense buildings and historical monuments dominate the landscape. There is a pervasive feeling of tradition and exclusivity. Inexorably drawn to the hallowed grounds, like a pilgrim on a spiritual journey, the feeling of belonging resonates in his soul. "Can you feel it?" asks his father, Rear Admiral Hopkins Jr, USN. "It's amazing," whispers the entranced boy. The weight of history is tangible and undeniable. Renowned nautical heroes... Stephen Decatur, Alfred Thayer Mahan, David Farragut, Chester Nimitz, Ernest King, Forrest Sherman, William Leahy, John Dahlgren, William Halsey, and countless others... are memorialized throughout the prestigious campus like saints atop the colonnades in St. Peter's Square. The most inspirational building is the Chapel. The place of worship is also a shrine to naval history. Located on consecrated high ground, the masterpiece of American Beaux Arts architecture is topped with a copper-covered dome based on the Royal Chapel at Les Invalides in Paris... the tomb of some of France's greatest war heroes, including Napoleon Bonaparte. At the entrance are two towering bronze doors depicting `father science' and `mother patriotism'. Providing illumination, Tiffany stained-glass windows immortalize nautical battles and heroes. And like the Parisian Royal Chapel and the Vatican's St. Peter's Basilica, there is a crypt beneath the rotunda. Interred is John Paul Jones - father of the American Navy. The circular crypt features Pyrenees marble columns around a sarcophagus supported by four bronze dolphins. The names of his ships are inscribed in the deck around the sacred tomb: Bonhomme Richard, Alliance, Serapis, Ariel, Alfred, Providence, and Ranger. Born out of the mutinous Somers Affair, in 1845 the Secretary of the Navy established an academy that would provide the United States with officers whose sense of duty, honor, loyalty, and character would be unmatched by any seafaring nation. For over 130 years the academy attracts the best and brightest. And the competition for an appointment is intense. It's a time of transformation. And like the Maryland July humidity, expectations are high. Young and idealistic, brimming with potential and determination, 1300 motivated young men will soon commence an amazing journey beyond their comprehension. It's Induction Day 1975... the beginning of plebe summer. As a Navy brat Hopkins grew up surrounded by sailors and ships. Baptized into the sacred mystery by a sailor aboard Stoddert, receiving communion and countless feedings from the crew of Daniels, the boy is spiritually reborn. Addicted, he is driven like an addict searching for his next fix. Nurturing his dependency, sailors supply him like Colombian drug dealers on schoolyards and street corners. He is eager to accommodate the Brigade of Midshipmen... ... where the high-quality supply is inexhaustible. Descending upon the crowd of elite young candidates and their parents, a contingent of senior officers, recently commissioned ensigns, 1/c stripers and 2/c detailer midshipmen, and enlisted sailors establish order from civilian chaos. "0700 candidates report to Bancroft Hall," orders an officer. Appointment letters were issued several months ago. Containing over 2-dozen forms, informational guides, and brochures, each candidate's Permit to Report Package also instructs them exactly when to report, where to go, and what to bring. Friendly midshipmen 2/c Detailers assist the candidates. Unbeknownst to most, however, it's all a ruse. Once induction day ends and parents depart the Yard, the deception will vanish and a gale of verbal abuse will rage. Engrained by time and consuetude, keen to underscore their role as paladins of tradition, the upperclassmen will unleash a maelstrom of unimagined ferocity. For the shocked plebes the experience is pure anoesis... sensation without understanding. Challenged like never before, they will be subjected to strenuous physical exercises, intense memorization drills, daily rate calls, sleep deprivation, and endless rules and regulation. It's a love-hate relationship... and attrition will be high. Typically 70 plebes don't survive indoctrination. And after four years twenty-five percent fail to graduate with their class. While half leave voluntarily, one-quarter fail to meet academic or physical standards, and the other quarter are removed for honor code violations, conduct problems, or general military incompatibility. But for now everyone is smiling. Offering last words of encouragement, Admiral & Mrs. Hopkins sever the tether to their son. It's the last time they will have contact with him until Plebe Parents' Weekend. If he survives the summer the academy will radical transform him morally, mentally and physically. The brat confidently joins the queue and his induction commences. Meticulously planned, the day-long process is exhausting... encompassing countless administrative, medical, and military matters. Reef Points is issued to every candidate. It's their bible for plebe summer. Containing essential information necessary to survive, major portions must be committed to memory verbatim. During plebe year they will be relentlessly interrogated by upperclassmen... with loss of privileges or strenuous physical exercise as punishment for incorrect answers. Hopkins is assigned to Echo Company 10th Platoon. Comprised of 4 squads of 10 men each, platoons experience success or failure together. Experts at psychological manipulation, the Navy understands that strong bonds are forged on the anvil of adversity, and team commitment strengthened in the crucible of shared misery. The first order of business is group medical examinations. `Omnes Viri', this is the last all male class. Having a substantial financial investment in the candidates, they are examined and screened for alcohol, drugs, and color perception. Like discriminating buyers at a Midwest cattle market, the Navy carefully inspects the candidates for imperfections: tattoos, brandings, piercings, and body alterations. Body art and ornamentations that are excessive, obscene, sexually explicit or that advocate or symbolize sex, gender, racial, religious, ethnic or national origin discrimination or gang affiliation, supremacist or extremist groups, or drug use are strictly prohibited... and grounds for disqualification. "Strip," orders a Master Chief Hospital Corpsman. "Everything!" Compelled by the authoritative timbre of his voice, the similarly equipped 10th Platoon undresses without hesitation. Following orders, they surrender all civilian clothing. Everything is bagged, tagged, and confiscated. Forty naked candidates display their masculinity. Surrendering to primitive compulsions, the boys surreptitiously check-out each other's gear... assessing their completion. The most well-endowed candidates proudly parade their superiority. Kindled, upperclassmen maneuver for unobstructed views of the candidates. With unprecedented acuity, every facet is memorized for their delectation, especially the enticing asses - filing the indelible erotic imagery away for future reference. It's one of the advantages of working Plebe Summer... ... advance reconnaissance of the fresh seafood. Once the academic year commences, and the 4th Class Regiment of Plebes is reformed into the Brigade of Midshipmen, high ranking firsties will get their choice of plebe to mentor. And there is a plebe to suit everyone's unique tastes and preferences. The potent virility pervades Hopkins' senses. Savoring the erotic landscape he becomes partially erect. Immersed in a sea of masculine perfection, everywhere he looks are trim, attractive, physically desirable young males in the prime of their reproductive potency. Forty sets of swollen balls gently sway in their floppy sacks... the fruit heavily laden with the quintessence of life. Several doctors arrive and line up the candidates. Donned in medical garb, the officers' authority is self-evident. Surveying the room they admire the quality of the incoming class. Enjoying unfettered access to thousands of vibrant males reeking of testosterone, there is no better billet in the Navy than attending physician at Annapolis. Most eyes are drawn to Hopkins' flawless body. Unperturbed, it's something he has accepted since childhood. Unabashedly on display, Hopkins stands evocatively with shameless confidence. The breathtakingly beautiful boy's form invokes images of classical Greek gods standing in contrapposto. Draped in perfection, his golden hair, strong jawline, full lips, and confident bright blue eyes are reminiscent of a young Apollo - the radiant archer. A doctor commences the head-to-toe inspection. Appreciating masculine beauty, he lovingly caresses Hopkins' musculature - the chiseled chest and annealed abdominal muscles. Feeling internal organs for deformities, tenderness, and pulsations, he steadily progresses downward. Reaching the narrow waist, he bypasses the boy's gear and inspects the corded quadriceps, curvaceous calves, and sensual feet. It's time for the small arms inspection. And he firmly grasps Hopkins' meaty cock. Checking for irregularities, slowly sliding his hand up and down, squeezing the appendage, a solid erection is quickly achieved. Running his experienced fingers around the sensitive ridge and glans, he examines the opening of the urethra. "Any abnormal discharges, burning sensations, or painful urination?" "Sir, no, sir." Progressing downward, tracing the tumid shaft's midline ridge, the doctor examines the floppy sack and scrotal raphe. Weighing the testicles in the palm of his hand, he lifts and rolls the soft ellipsoids ensconced within the dual-chambered bag. Deftly squeezing the orbs between knowledgeable fingers and thumb, he searches for lumps and growths. Ensuring each is attached to the scrotal wall and not rotating freely on the spermatic cord, he pulls and twists, tugs the pouch downward, and presses his fingers into the scrotum. "Cough. Again. Any pain or discomfort?" "Sir, no, sir." "Okay, bend over and spread them," the doctor orders. Assuming the position, Hopkins is fully exposed. Fortunately, despite relentless pressure from many fleet sailors to fuck his ass, the brat fought their advances and is still a virgin. That, however, won't last long at the all-male academy where upperclassmen routinely enjoy plebe-pussy. Taking position astern to examine the anus, perineum, and perineal raphe for abnormalities, the doctor rotates the candidate's hips and spreads the legs wider. Jockeying for unobstructed views, two corpsmen look over the officer's shoulder. In a moment of wonder they are transfixed by the exquisite sight... mesmerized by the fierce beauty. Revealed in all its glorious splendor, the flawless pink ring invokes profound adulation. "Damn, look at that sweet fucking hole," exclaims an HM2 "It's beautiful," another corpsman whispers reverentially. Feeling the sting of concupiscence, the petty officers reposition their painful erections and provide additional real estate for westward expansion. All sailors fantasizing about shafting young academy midshipmen, overpowering the fleshly sentinel, entering elysium. Applying benzocaine topical, an anesthetic lubricant, the doctor works a thick finger inside the reluctant ring... prying it open. Probing deeper, knowing its way around the undulating chute, the finger finds and massages the prostate gland - forcing an involuntary moan of pleasure from the boy. Other candidates in the queue are watching with interest. They know their turn is coming. With pressure on his prostate, Hopkins is quickly brought to the brink of release. Embarrassed but having no choice, he stiffens and violently discharges ropes of viscous jam as his contracting ring clenches down on the doctors thrusting digit. Standing at the ready a corpsman collects the chunky white custard in a special carafe. Milking the shaft from root to tip, the petty officer expertly extracts every drop of the precious fluid. Over the next six hours several gallons of jam will be harvested from the 1,300 candidates. Ostensibly collected for medical reasons, the high-protein elixir of youth will be sent to the Pentagon for consumption... reinvigorating key Admirals with strength and vitality. Unfortunately time doesn't permit for further explorations. There are over a thousand candidates to examine. An experienced breeder of midshipmen, the doctor will summon Hopkins after plebe summer for a more complete and invasive rectal examination. Annotating the medical record with a secret code, he medically approves the boy for acceptance into the Academy. The naked candidates advance to the next station. Enlisted storekeepers coordinate uniform measurement & issue. Outfitted like a new construction ship, the candidates are issued everything required for the duration of plebe summer. If they survive, a full sea bag of dozens of uniforms, haberdashery, and USNA crested paraphernalia will be issued over the next four years. Standing with feet shoulder width apart, arms up and out parallel to the deck, the candidates are on display for the amused petty officers. Wielding cloth tape measures, they record body dimensions and issue correct sizes. Although the experienced purveyors can determine sizes at a glance, they delight in fondling the candidates' bodies, taking every conceivable measurement. Most have erections inside their white crackerjacks. Approximately 20 different items, including 15 pairs of underwear, 18 sets of socks, 10 blue rim T-shirts, 5 blue USNA shorts, athletic shoes, swim trunks, 5 sets of summer white working uniforms, name tag, black neckerchief, and a blue rim dixie cup are issued and stuffed in a white fabric sea bag. Before getting dressed a 2/c Detailer instructs them on markings. A unique six-digit alpha code is assigned to each candidate. The first two numbers indicate their graduation year, the next four a sequential serial number. Stenciled on all clothing and annotated on all paperwork, this number will remain with them for life. It's not unlike cattle with an ear tag identifying its owner. Clearly, the Navy owns them for the next 10 years. Over the next eight hours dozens of administrative items are addressed. Moving among stations, while standing in queues, the candidates read and memorize Reef Points. Immersed in Navy dogma, they are also introduced to The Honor Concept and taught basic military courtesies and procedures: how to wear uniforms, stand at attention, render salutes, drill, and execute basic formation maneuvers. Exhausted and overwhelmed, it's 1800. Time for the Oath of Office swearing-in ceremony. Parading between 24-pound smooth-bore guns captured during the Mexican War, Le Gaillard and Mars, the candidates enter Tecumseh Court. Led by stripers and firsties, the port and starboard battalions take their designated positions. The pageantry connects them to a century old tradition. Immersed in a sea of uniformity, standing at attention as one entity, they are wearing summer whites with blue-rim dixie cups. Following strict ritual, the Colors are paraded as company commanders render salutes with swords. Gathered around the perimeter are proud parents. The Commandant of Midshipmen recites the oath. "Having been appointed a midshipman in the United States Navy, do you solemnly swear that you will support and defend the constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that you will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that you take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that you will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which you are about to enter, so help you God." "I do," thunders the conflated voices. And the candidates officially become plebes. Exhilarated, swelling with pride, filled with clarity of purpose, Hopkins experiences a glorious transformation. With the blue and gold coursing through his veins he is spiritually bound to the brotherhood... a small part of a great institution. It's confirmation that he's where he belongs. - - - - - Return to The Present - - - - - The pungent perfume of fear permeates the stagnant air. If the allegation is confirmed, Hopkins knows he will be reported to the Commandant of Midshipmen. Unsuitable for military service, all homosexuals are summarily separated from the Navy. Disqualified and rejected by the academy, enduring crushing humiliation and shame, how can he ever face his father? It's a fate worse than death. Bound by the Honor Concept, he is in extremis. Midshipmen are persons of integrity - it's the foundation of their conduct. Possessing high levels of moral courage, never compromising their ultimate obligation to the truth, they are accountable for their actions and accept the consequences without evasion. Yet he cherishes everything about the Navy: the traditions & customs, combatants & carriers, and uniforms & regulations. Above all, he loves the sailors... the camaraderie & brotherhood of men, united in purpose, serving the nation. How can he throw all that away? The penetrating scrutiny of the pentad bore into the plebe. Interpreting his comportment they sense the internal struggle. "We're waiting Plebe..." In a moment of darkness he contemplates weaving a verisimilar tale... explaining that he's unsure and confused. An unfortunate concatenation of circumstances, he was just curious... experimenting like all young adolescent males... that unscrupulous sailors took advantage of his innocence. But that's a lie. Examining his conscience, hearing the sacred call, its truth resonating in his soul, he couldn't be any more certain about his devotion to masculinity. Although his irrevocable confirmation will have dire consequences, the plebe must remain true to his inner most convictions. Honor demands it. Exposed and vulnerable, distraught and devastated, facing certain expulsion, he makes a terrifying decision. Taking responsibility he falls-on-his-sword. "Sir, yes, sir... I'm gay, sir." A Pyrrhic victory for truth, with the confession he has lost everything. Gone is the opportunity of a lifetime... the chance to become a professional Naval Officer of the Line. Forfeiting the privilege to wear the blue & gold, he'll never command ships and men like his ancestors. Deserted by fortune, like Macbeth had he but died an hour before this chance he had lived a blessed time, for from this instant there's nothing serious in mortality. All is but toys. Renown and grace is dead. The wine of life has been poured out, and only the dregs remain. "Very well," responds the inquisitor. Exchanging looks with layers of significance, the recruiters' visage assume an air of satisfaction. Achieving their objective, receiving the desired response, they are impressed with Hopkins' strength of character. Despite overwhelming pressure, unseduced by expediency, offering no excuses, his commitment to the truth remained steadfast. "Relax Hopkins... all is not lost," the leader reassures the plebe with surprising calmness. "We believe you possess an enlightened perspective of man's ultimate place in the universe. And we share your unwavering devotion to divine masculinity." Adrift, the plebe stares in confusion. "We had to be sure of your commitment," adds another. "Do you understand plebe?" Feeling light-headed, glancing downward, noticing their tented robes, sensing the presence of the masculine spirit, comprehension is immediate... striking like lightning. Rekindling his inner light, restoring balance and harmony, the plebe is filled with rapturous joy. Smiling benevolently the leader parts his robe and reveals the wonder that binds them. Grace descends upon the congregation as they witness the miraculous transformation of flesh. Sculpted by divine will, radiating immense power, the formidable 9-inch god commands adulation. Astonished, Hopkins falls to his knees. Spiritually connected to the fountainhead of all existence, he loses sense of time, place, and self. Venerating the ineffable perfection, he is connected to the mystical universe. "Do you submit to the will of the divine?" "Sir, yes, sir," he responds with conviction. Fully immersed in Plebe Summer for the last four weeks, Hopkins hasn't been able to take spiritual nourishment. Lying in his rack at night, compulsively jerking off, he dreams of servicing upperclassmen and consuming their potent seed. Feeling a oneness he reverentially leans forward. Paying homage the plebe kisses the sanctified cock. Experienced at performing the rite of confirmation, the leader tilts the plebe's head back... ensuring proper alignment for a deep blessing. Reciting esoteric verses, he enters the supplicant's mouth, slides along the warm tongue, and reaches the throat's precipice. Encouraging hands move to the back of Hopkins' head. But it's unnecessary. The plebe is eager to profess his faith. Sliding effortlessly deeper, tunneling down the accommodating throat until two-blocked, the leader relishes the unparalleled pleasure of welcoming the new member into the Navigators. United in brotherhood, the sect's many members will all eventually impart their own blessings. Hopkins' eyes are closed in mystical rapture. Revitalized, feeling the power of redemption pulsing in his throat, he is connected to his destiny. Luxuriating in the conduit, the leader is visibly protruding inside the plebe's neck. Placing their hands upon Hopkins, the pentad of midshipmen witness and confirm the rite. The thick shaft rhythmically thrusts in-and-out as they recite cabalistic chants. Ascending the peak of release the leader stiffens. Exploding, he anoints Hopkins with a torrent of jam. Craving the infusion of pure energy, faithfully consuming the magnanimous gift, mumbling prayers of thanksgiving, the plebe savors the holy seed. Countless challenges and trials lie before the Navigators. A small flame can light the darkness; and a spark of truth ignite a revolution. The sect's future leaders will be those who best reflect the proud legacy of the Academy... midshipmen and officers with a strong moral foundation, clarity of purpose, and unwavering commitment to divine masculinity. It is a responsibility Hopkins willingly accepts. - - - - - - - - - - - - - Thank you for reading `A Brat's Peregrination'. Hopkin's story continues when he reports to the Fleet as a 3/c midshipman for youngster cruse. Taking charge, dedicated sailors train, initiate, and help Hopkins attain nautical mile certification. Comments and readers' experiences with sailors, afloat or ashore, are always of interest. The author may be reached at JRozoNavyDoD@gmx.com