Paula Broadwell's Unedited Manuscript
Last week, the media was abuzz over the sordid details about ex-CIA chief David Petraeus’ extra-marital affair. The FBI investigation that uncovered the four-star general’s infidelity and led to his resignation should never have been necessary. The closeness between Petraeus and his biographer, Paula Broadwell, was evident in the author’s manuscript draft.
Working in cooperation with the FBI, VICE has obtained portions of an early draft of the biography and reprinted them here for your consideration.
All In: The Education of General David Petraeus – Excerpts from the original draft.
Chapter 6: Master Of The Military
The 90s saw Petraeus advance to Chief of Staff at Fort Campbell, Kentucky. It was here that Petraeus’ legend would grow. Slowly at first, as many legends of that age do, but grow steadily—with gentle coaxing and firm technique—until it was proud and prominent.
In 1991, he was accidentally shot in the chest with an M-16 assault rifle during a live-fire exercise and operated on at Vanderbilt University Medical Center, Nashville, Tennessee. The hospital released Petraeus just days later after he did fifty push-ups without resting.
"Look at those powerful shoulders. Those firm buttocks as he descends up and down up. Up and down," the examining physician thought to himself as he signed discharge orders.
From 1997-99, Petraeus served in the Pentagon as Assistant to then-Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, Gen. Henry Shelton, who described Petraeus as "a high-energy individual who likes to lead from the front, in any field he is going into."
Time would prove those words true. As a flexible leader, Petraeus could also lead from behind.
Chapter 8: Coming into His Own
In 2000, General Petraeus was named Chief of Staff for the XVII Airborne Corps at Fort Bragg. During a parachute malfunction, he suffered a hard landing that resulted in a broken pelvis. That pelvis would heal and become the locus of so much of the general's power in command. His stout thickness prodded his subordinates to achieve. "Yes, Sir!" they would yell in unison.
In 2003, during fighting in Baghdad, Petraeus famously quipped to Washington Post reporter Rick Atkinson, "Tell me how this ends." The quote was often repeated, indicating Petraeus was acutely aware of the difficulties that would follow the fall of Baghdad.
"Tell me how this ends," he said again holding her down by the wrists.
His breath was hot in her ear and she could feel the slightest trace of stubble against her cheek—the General having not shaved since 0600 as was his custom.
"Tell me how this ends," he repeated, but his biographer could not. She was gagged. His immaculate handkerchief in her mouth and secured with a rope that was tied with military precision.
"Answer the General's questions," he said, taking a hand off her wrist only long enough to slap her face like the bad soldier she'd become. She was ready, aching to be entered, but helpless. She thrusted her pelvis forwarded, but the General was a master of counterinsurgency who had twice published on the issue.
He pulled the gag down from her mouth for a minute.
"You're pathetic," he said. "What do you want?"
She knew she only had a moment to speak. "Requesting the surge, Sir!"
Another slap across her already red face. "What did you say, soldier?"
"Send in the troops!"
He leaned in close, all his weight bearing down on her. "And after I send in the troops, you tell me, how does this end?"
She wanted to say something about nation building or mission accomplished or something hot and clever at the same time, but she couldn't concentrate. She had angered the General. Soon he would grab the wet towel again for another round of sexual waterboarding. All she could do was try to achieve orgasm before losing consciousness.
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