(The following is a history of Kayl's life and how he ended up in Haithan)

It doesn't take much to please a man. Very few things will get his clock ticking, but with this one.. There are three major things. Scotch... Women.. And a good smoke.

Of course, When he was nothing but a butterbar in the United States Army, Kayl had a philosophy of. "I require three things. A woman, Alive, and Human, but in a pinch, two out of three ain't bad." Of course, he was young, impressionable and barely 22 years old, with the world ahead of him.

Growing up in the outskirt of Cairo had it's ups and downs of course. There were many things you could do with the silted banks of the river of course, and the excursions that his extended family drug him on to various neighboring areas was bad enough. He never completely understood the tenets of the religion they insisted he knew, because they kept saying 'To honor his mother and father' Of course, they usually had that bad taste in their mouths when they mentioned the word 'father' He was raised by his uncle Azaeb and his three wives, whom Kayl just referred to usually as One, Two, And Three. Two kept reminding him very well of what his heritage was, as mixed and muddled as it was. She proclaimed his mother, Sameera, was a wanton and loose woman, insisting on moving too close to those American flyboys that would occasionally drop into Cairo now and again at the end of the Vietnam war. Thus, the result was Lekayl, a Yabn El Zanya(Illegitimate son) in the eyes of his mother's family once she died in childbirth.

It seemed to be about the age of 15 that Lekayl (Prounouced La key eel) grew more an more interested in his American linage and sought to find his father. Kayl was sneaky and devious, a trait his family claimed came from his all too white father, so it was not difficult to put the pieces into place and manage to hide out upon the many cargo ships that docked in Alexandria. Months upon ship, eating what food he could steal, only to arrive in the harbors of New York, dirty, poor with only a few pounds to his name. He made a bit of a sight, a darker skinned bright eyed boy with a mop of long curly black hair. It was then he set out to find who his father was. And as luck would have it, he wasn't far. He knew the name, One and Two had cursed it enough times, but an Army newspaper fallen into his hands showed easily that the name Dirk Medlin had just achieved rank of Colonel and was stationed at Ft Drum.

The exact semantics of the journey to the post, as well as finding his father aren't needed, however, Dirk knew Kayl as his son, just by the expressions, habits, and the need for mischievous behavior wrapped in a package that looked far to much like his mother. With Kayl's highly broken english, but a starvation to learn, he became fluent under his father's wing, though it much consisted of enjoying his education in the cigar bars and officers clubs of the various duty stations they moved to.

Once Kayl was 18, having finished his education in the military school system, he knew that it wasn't long before he was to be sent off to an ROTC program. He chose medical as his educational field, and before long he was busting through class and drill, graduating at the age of 22 with his nice and shiny gold bar on his collar.

He took his leave back to Cairo, oddly welcomed by his uncle and the wives, even if he was an american soldier, using the benefit of his dual citizenship by birth. Of course, it was the height of the Persian Gulf war, and his stay wasn't long, but between breaks of deployment, further medical training, he always found that Cairo was his home in many ways, the discipline instilled being a benefit for not only his extended family, but a pride for his American father as well.

The years swim by, as they always do, Kayl keeping his uncle's surname. There was the harassment as he moved slowly through the ranks, that he was a terrorist, a rag head, anything else that would try to get under his skin as he continued his education while serving the military. 1st Lt rank came, as well as Captain, and only then was he put as a company commander of Charlie 782nd MSB in a small DISCOM battalion of the 82nd Airborne.

The Iraq war spurned up once more, and he was off, just behind the front lines leading the combat medics, providing what medical help there could be for the wounded and injured. Already past the point of 30 years old, he was getting tired, but it still did not stop the mischievous glint he always carried. It never stopped having female, and male enlisted creeping into his tent after reveille was called.

That was his biggest worry, that not only would his indiscretions be discovered, but that the Army's don't ask, don't tell policy would raise some havoc on his fraternizations should his tastes be discovered. He never considered himself gay, as he did enjoy women completely, however, at times, the brutality and raw force of someone of the same sex satisfied as well.

It came easier when he went to stateside once more, having become quite well versed and educated in general surgery, and placed once more at Ft. Bragg, leading the surgical team at Womack Army Medical. He tended to save the nights of debauchery and scotch for when he was on leave, though it became harder as the scotch came easily, everyone willing to buy the newly commissioned Major a round, or four, at the officer's club off Riley Rd.

One night, one round came two, then three, and so on, the scotch kept flowing, and the women so austere in their formal ranking now loosened up and enjoying the company of those about them. And yet, somehow, an enlisted group was invited in to join. The drinks became more and more, the cigars lit and enjoyed, and Kayl not even aware of what was going on about him, and little did he care. Yet, there it was, a flash of a camera he paid little attention to.

Of course, that camera flash was incriminating the next day when he was called in by the colonel, for it showed the Major alone, in a darkened corner, cigar hanging out of his mouth, a glass of scotch in another, and a young private's head in his lap, as well as a report that the private had been coerced into pleasing the higher ranking officer.

Despite Kayl's protests, it was put to investigation with UMCJ to which the result was fast and effective. Discharge other than honorable. Only six months before retirement. No pension. No VA benefits. Just a kiss your ass goodbye.

Months were spent in a drunken haze afterwards. He couldn't tell his father, now a proud retiree, he couldn't go home to Cairo with the dishonor. But a simple email he could barely read in a drunken haze promoting medical positions in a run down part of Louisiana. It was a job. It was money. And after some research, it was a place he could continue to enjoy his vices, without the world knowing what he was up to, and where he could bury the mistake of his career, to which he still believed was a set up.

Since then, Kayl has sort of cleaned up his act, taking pride in his work, and further pride getting under the skin of the women who outranked him at the hospital in Haithan. Continuing to fight his discharge, and after some agreements and lack of evidence, as of course, it seemed to disappear, he was finally able to overturn the discharge to Honorable under General conditions.