Assmunch

Unfortunately, being on vacation visiting my family in Texas since Monday, I have not been writing much. Have only three pages of the next chapter. But, I should have it done either by the time I fly back home on Wednesday, or just after. 😄

Ah, Tom is ALWAYS such a pleasant surprise. And he appears to see every sexual interaction with new eyes, I love how the world is brand new to him, but he’s this big, rugged strong guy. Felipe’s stupid plan is going to cause a giant mess, and someone might get killed. I know Liam won’t hesitate. I’m pretty sure none of the others would hesitate either, except Artem.

Sounds about right.

Yeah, he and Battles had a couple hours to figure out the plan. They accounted for everything. Potter knew it had to happen in a certain way to avoid any question of other suspects. I may or may not get into Potter and Battles experiences in Iraq. But ‘persuasive correction’ by your fellow soldiers is usually how things are handled. Reporting someone who’s being an ass or not handling their shit, stealing, shirking duties… superiors don’t want to deal with that shit. So anything from a beating, to being hung out on patrol happens all the time. By this time, Potter and Battles don’t even blink. That’s what assholes get for being fuckups. For them, if you aren’t being a brother, you are dead weight and dead weight gets people killed. Gotta kill them first, before someone who’s worth a hundred times more than they are gets killed.

I was hoping it would be. Now we can get back to the good stuff! Well, for now.

Author’s note: I’ve changed one of the rapist’s names from the previous chapter, which has most likely been edited after the early readers have seen it. The rapists are now Barnell and Delnick. Sorry for any confusion. A necessary change to avoid an awkward and unfortunate coincidence. BARRACKS 1830 “Do you think your guy Bootlicker can keep his mouth shut?” Potter asked Assmunch when Sleeper and Zeus were gone. “No question, Potter. I probably don’t know a quarter of what he and Wanker have gotten into since we’ve been here, but I expect all of it would have them dismissed from the course if not booted from the Army. If you need something that breaks all the rules, he’s your guy. He’d do it just for the fun of it.” Assmunch answered. “That’s what I need to hear. I need passes for Battles and I, and our entry on the in/out log this morning to disappear. We have been gone since going out last night and will sign back in just after wake up tomorrow. We won’t be here at curfew or lights out. We need uniforms from Sleeper and Demon, they’re about our size, without nametapes if they have them. We need to look Army, just in case anyone sees us from a distance. We won’t be seen, but it’s best to cover every angle.” “I’ll make it happen. Anything else?” Assmunch asked. “Just one thing. Do you want to come?” Potter fixed Assmunch with a serious gaze, and Assmunch felt like this was a test. Assmunch didn’t have to give it a lot of thought, he knew he wanted to be there. He wasn’t going for the killing and wasn’t eager for it but he had to be there because it felt wrong to avoid this part of the distasteful plan. He was responsible for the Brotherhood. And while he wasn’t the architect of this plan, he was part of it. He needed to see this through. He would let Potter do the final act but a leader didn’t hide behind his men. If he wasn’t willing to risk himself, he couldn’t ask others to. And he needed to know the moment Potter described without being in it. It would tell him if he had what it took to become a Ranger. He had to ask, though. “Do you think I’m ready?” Potter smiled. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t already think so. And the Bravos have plenty that are ready. Most, actually. And add Weeble to the ready list now, after what he went through. Zeus isn’t because he doesn’t really see a lot of gray in things. The whole bad/good thing has to shift for him. Right now, only a order to kill will feel right to him.” “Yeah, you’re right. We are working on it, and he’s better but a long way from where he needs to be.” Assmunch answered. “I have to go with you. I have to see this through. Mostly for myself, But also for Weeble.” Corporal Potter nodded. “It’s going to be ugly, Andrew. I mean to fuck these assholes up, and then I’m going to kill them. You need to be prepared for it. You’re not eligible for an overnight pass, so you have to get out after lights out. You know where the armory is?” “Yeah, I remember from combat training when I was here before. I think I know the shed Weeble was talking about. It’s by itself a little east of the A20 dudded impact area.” “Okay, good. Battles and I will be waiting for you, but Barnell and Delnick will probably get there just before midnight. Don’t wait too long after lights out to be on your way.” *************** The next few hours until lights out seemed to crawl by. Potter and Battles left immediately after getting the uniforms from Assmunch, and the passes from Bootlicker, who also made quick work of modifying the in/out to remove Potter and Battles from the morning sign in and substituting in Assmunch’s name with a 30 minute in/out for PT, matching the time of a couple other soldiers so it looked like they all went together. Bootlicker magically produced a small bottle of nail polish remover from his locker, saying acetone was an excellent ink remover. Assmunch didn’t ask why the bottle was almost empty. He didn’t want to know how many or what types of documents or records Bootlicker had changed in his time with the Bravos. Assmunch was prepared to operate tomorrow on little to no sleep. He didn’t know what the night would bring but whatever occurred he had to be back in his bunk by 0330. Running across the main part of the base where the Airborne barracks were located was an exercise in stealth. He avoided the pools of light provided by streetlights, and floodlights positioned around the buildings. He hid from the single security patrol he saw driving down the street, waiting motionless until the red tail lights disappeared between buildings. His path was not direct but rather a chaotic scurry to the next pocket of darkness in whatever direction was shortest. All was quiet on the silent Sunday night that mocked the nervousness and turmoil within him. It took fifteen minutes by his internal clock to reach the dudded impact zone where the Gun Bunnies lobbed their tootsie rolls for training. Non explosive most all the time. Live fire training exercises did happen in other zones, but not this one just off the Cantonment areas. When live fire artillery exercises were being conducted the loudspeakers on base that usually played reveille and taps, or the Star Spangled banner, would blare an announcement. During his combat training they’d had two live fire artillery exercises at Benning. They don’t warn you about the thrum of pressure you feel with every concussive blast when live artillery was used, even from miles away there was always a soft ‘whump’ against your body not too long after the explosive flash. There had been none in the two weeks he’d been at Airborne and probably wouldn’t be while he was here. Live fire artillery exercises weren’t regularly conducted. The impact zone was considered restricted, and no unauthorized personnel were ever allowed there but Assmunch wasn’t following rules tonight so he cut directly across the area after jumping the fence. Although night exercises were conducted, again they were done infrequently and away from the Cantonment area that housed the operations buildings, barracks and population. This impact zone was not used for night ops. Anyone looking with infrared or night vision would see him instantly, but he relied on the fact that no one with any sense would run across this area, much less run across the base in the middle of the night, so any security wouldn’t be looking here if they were looking at all. The fence line around the perimeter of Ft. Benning was where they were looking and watching, plus the usual patrols in the Cantonment as part of the MP’s regular duties. There would be patrols out here as well, but they would be done from vehicles on the road and unless there was something suspicious they were investigating their eyes would simply scan unless something stood out. Tonight, darkness was his friend and he welcomed it inside himself knowing he’d need it for what had to happen. A less than a half hour later he slowed as he reached the area where the shed would be, cautious. The overcast clouds from the day were gone and the area was minimally bathed by the quarter moon. It was just before midnight, maybe 15 minutes or less. Lying flat on the ground, his balaclava hiding all but his eyes, he watched the shed for movement. He saw nothing. The hoot of an owl from his left caught his attention. He turned his head slowly, keeping his head close to the earth. The silhouette of an arm thrust up from a depression twenty feet from his position. He gave a low volume single hoot back and crawled towards it, finding Potter lying on his back, relaxed as if he were going to take a nap. Assmunch mirrored the position. Potter leaned in towards him. “We’ll hear them coming. I heard you twenty yards out. They’ll be in a vehicle. Lights off I’m sure, but we’ll hear the motor. Battles is opposite. We’ll let them get the shed open. Battles and I already cleaned it up, got everything put back together. Didn’t see any blood from Victor, so that’s good. The only blood in there will be theirs.” “Roger that.” Assmunch replied. So they waited, not talking. Assmunch used the time to mentally prepare himself trying to imagine all the ways this could go, forcing his heart to go cold with thoughts of what Weeble had endured. Only the six of them knew the strength it had taken for Weeble to escape and return which increased Assmunch’s determination to see this through. The two rapists had probably counted on the normal profile of a jump school student - attending alone, no one to back them up or question where they were until too much time had passed, the usual chain of command bullshit that would delay any search. The initial assumption was always AWOL or Desertion. These guys had their M.O. down and Assmunch wondered how many others there had been, if there had been previous deaths or they’d counted on the shame to keep their victims silent as well as the unfavorable treatment many victims in the military receive after they report a sexual assault. Ostracism was the most common, but far worse happened. And that was just in the ranks. Superiors didn’t like troublemakers, squeaky wheels, or soldiers who rocked the boat and disrupted the mission. Especially old guard Superiors, who felt if a soldier couldn’t handle their shit they could fuck right out of the Army instead of making it everyone’s problem. The Army didn’t need pussies who probably put a target on their own back anyway. That was how they treated the men who caused waves… the women got far worse. Good luck with your career if you got that reputation. The worst part was how they appeared to take it seriously then cut the complainer loose to the rumor mill. The details of a sexual assault allegation flew around a base faster than a directive straight from the Pentagon. If a soldier ended up in the hospital, things were taken more seriously, but the post trauma counseling and notations in their record pretty much ensured a discharge of some kind. Unfit for duty for any number of reasons. Only by ignoring it ever happened were you likely to be able to continue to serve. Potter suddenly hooted twice, and a few seconds later Assmunch heard a vehicle approaching. His heart began to race. “Breathe.” Potter whispered. “Calm. Cold. Just taking out the garbage.” Good advice, which Assmunch followed immediately. He stilled his thoughts. Control. He resisted the reflex to make this personal. He did not care about these feral dogs, they were simply an obstacle. As much as he wanted the rage to warm him, it would only complicate things so he had to stay even, measured, calculating. Without emotion there would be no fear. Without feeling he could not doubt. It was only murder if they killed a human. These two were animals. Such were the lies he allowed himself, thin as they were. Potter had been right, the vehicle approached without lights and stopped, then the engine silenced. Almost a full minute elapsed before Assmunch heard the doors open. They did not shut again. He imagined Battles approached the rear of the shed, or maybe not. Potter placed a gloved hand on his shoulder, making an unnecessary gesture to silence with his finger on his lips. Assmunch nodded. Then Potter tilted his head back and sideways to glance over the edge of the depression at the shed. He held up two fingers and then an ‘okay’ sign. Still watching, he waited until the clear sound of the padlock disengaging echoed in the night. His hand struck Assmunch’s shoulder twice and he rolled quietly to his stomach and rose like black steam from the ground without a single sound. Assmunch repeated his movements and took three slow full and deep breaths, careful to control his exhale, and he felt himself settle unexpectedly into that place. The shed door was opening and Potter just started to signal and move when Assmunch mirrored him with steady and fluid steps, knees flexed, body positioned in a crouch. They would not rush and Assmunch knew the optimal location to take them was inside the shed. Automatic brain was in control and hyper focused. His peripheral vision noted the vehicle was empty, drivers side and passenger doors remaining ajar, interior light disengaged. Five paces. Four. A flashlight flared, and Potter was moving suddenly. Assmunch only a split second behind. They never registered the body of the Marine that slammed into them, shoving one into the other and sending them both flying towards the shelves at the back of the shed. Assmunch dodged to the side, his arm reaching out to Barnell’s sidearm as he left his feet, simultaneously flicking the securing strap with his thumb and pulling the weapon from its holster. The grunt from the unexpected contact came just before the sound of crashing bodies. Potter wasted no time and the sound of handcuffs clicked along with a yell of pain. The light from the flashlight rolling to a stop on the floor showed Barnell half on top of Delnick who had hit the shelves before he fell. Barnell was in uniform, Delnick in civvies and Barnell’s hands were cuffed behind his back. Battles entered just as the two began to struggle. Potter raised up and brought his knee to the center of Barnell’s back with all his weight. Barnell let out a pathetic cry. Potter’s gloved fist slammed into the side of his face, reducing him to a stunned limp piece of meat. Delnick was trying to extricate himself and a quick strike by Potter stunned him as well. “Get this one’s cuffs on the other one.” Potter said in a calm, ordinary tone of voice. Taking out the garbage. Battles withdrew Barnell’s cuffs from the utility pouch on his equipment belt and only had a small fight to secure Delnick’s hands. “Let’s get him up.” Assmunch helped Potter drag Barnell to his feet and before Barnell could tense enough for the bolt they were expecting Potter brought his knee up sideways into Barnell’s stomach forcing him to try to double over but Assmuch held his collar and his wrists. His knees buckled with a grunt. Battles had Delnick face down with a knee on his neck. With Barnell on his knees, Potter said “Hand me that mag light. Assmunch reached down with one hand and retrieved the flashlight from where it had rolled when the animals dropped it. He handed it to Potter who looked at it. “Perfect.” He pushed Barnell’s head back by the forehead. “Open up.” “Fuck you.” Barnell said. “Open up or I break your jaw to open it for you. Your choice.” Potter could have been ordering breakfast at Waffle House. He tapped the end of the mag light on Barnell’s chin repeatedly with measured gentle hits a second apart. One…Two…Three…Four…..After the fifth tap, he suddenly raised the heavy metal flashlight filled with four D cell batteries above his shoulder. “Okay, okay!” Barnell cried. Tears fell from the corner of his eyes as he opened his trembling ugly mouth. “Wider.” Potter ordered calmly. When the Marine decided the fit was right he lowered the flashlight slowly, allowing Barnell to watch it descend, his head still pulled back so his face was looking up. The barrel of the flashlight was a little over ten inches long and as big around as the cardboard roll inside a sleeve of toilet paper. “Uh uh… keep it open.” Potter warned when Barnell started to close his jaw. He eased the end between Barnell’s lips. “Suck it.” Barnell, recognizing this was just hazing, did as he was told, the wild panicked look disappearing from his eyes. Potter pushed another inch in. “Get it wet.” Barnell’s eyes kept darting from Potter’s face to the flashlight, then rolled up to try to get a look at Assmunch. Potter pushed another inch in, and the panic returned to Barnell’s face. He began making guttural noises. “Don’t talk when you’re sucking. I don’t like it.” Potter observed with a bored tone. “You’re going to take all of it. Hey buddy, what’s that saying you like?” Battles said in the same casual tone “You mean ‘if he ain’t bleeding, you ain’t trying?” “That’s the one.” And with that Potter pushed the flashlight down. Barnell began to scream around the object in his mouth and struggle but Assmunch held him tight by the head, his dispassionate eyes unblinking, his foot pressing down on the links between the cuffs and his knee pressed between Barnell’s shoulder blades. Potter met resistance about five inches in and pushed with slightly more strength managing to work another inch down. “Pathetic.” Potter remarked. “You can do better. I’ve seen it in movies.” And he pushed again without making any progress. He sighed. “What a waste of time.” With that he hammered his fist down on the head of the flashlight punching it down fully into Barnell’s throat. Barnell’s eyes bulged and his body jerked. “Let him go.” Potter said, and Assmunch released him to fall to the floor off the shed where he twisted and writhed as he choked, suffocating with incredible pain caused by half of the ten inches of thick hard textured metal being forced into his overstretched throat. Potter shoved him over on his back with his foot, and knelt down to undo his equipment belt. “Get his legs.” He told Assmunch. Assmunch knelt on either side of Barnell’s legs, pinning them in place and sitting down on his shins. Potter tossed the equipment belt aside, then unclipped the slide on his uniform belt. “Pull his pants down, just below his knees.” Assmunch yanked the uniform trousers down. Barnell’s struggles were becoming weaker as he suffocated, unable to draw breath around the tube in his throat. “Let’s get him up, on that shelf.” Assmunch knew the one he was talking about. They positioned him exactly as Weeble had described, facedown on the middle shelf, his now naked ass sticking out, sliding the cuffs over the J-hook that held the extension cord. Barnell was now limp and Potter grabbed the end of the flashlight and jerked it free from Barnell’s mouth. A few seconds went by and Barnell jerked back to consciousness with a gurgling choking gasp that had to be incredibly painful to his abused throat. “Bring the other one over here.” Potter said. Battles yanked Delnick up by the back of his shirt and dragged him on his knees over behind Barnell. “Eat your buddy’s ass.” Potter ordered, swinging the mag light in lazy arcs. “I can’t…I don’t… Please?” Delnick pleaded. Potter hit him with the flashlight in the side of the face, which made the light flicker. The crack was followed by blood. “Eat his ass. Get it wet, really wet. Make sure you get his hole. The wetter you make it the shorter you’ll have to do it. I won’t tell you again.” Delnick slowly moved his face towards Barnell’s ass. Barnell’s breathing was ragged and suffering. It was probably all he could do to lay there gasping with his throat on fire. Delnick tried to fake his way through it, for which Potter connected his gloved fist with the other side of Delnick’s face, sending his head rocking as he fell over onto his side. “Please…”. Delnick begged. “What do you want? Why are you doing this?” He cried. “I want -“ he kicked Delnick in the stomach. “You to eat his ass.” And he leveled another harder kick. “Get up. Get in there. Get it wet.” He yanked Delnick up by his shirt, the jerking motion forcing a button to pop off and roll under the shelves. “Buddy, why don’t you spread those cheeks for him.” He nodded at Assmunch, who moved to pull Barnell’s asscheeks apart. Potter grabbed the back of Delnick’s head and pushed it forward. “Stick your tongue out and lick.” Delnick was crying now, but doing as he was told. He gagged. “Spit it on his hole, don’t swallow it.” Delnick obeyed. “Wetter, more spit. He’s going to have a hard time of it if you don’t get him lubed up.” Delnick pulled back. “You…you’re going to fuck him?” Potter laughed. It was a sound that could barely be described as a laugh. It conveyed no humor. It was an expression meant to mimic laughter by a creature alien to the concept of joy. It weighed the air with poison. “Not me. You. That’s probably enough.” Barnell’s right butt cheek was smeared with Delnick’s blood from the cut on his cheek. Potter pulled Delnick away from Barnell’s ass. “Buddy, take care of that one’s hands.” He said to Battles. Battles stepped over to the other shelf and selected a piece of lumber. He hefted it a couple times as he walked back over to Barnell. With an underhanded swing he hammered it into Barnell’s exposed right knuckles held in place by the cuffs, not hard enough to break bone but enough to bruise them. Then he rubbed the wood over the punished skin. Battles bent down to get a closer look, then using his own gloved fist he punched Barnell’s knuckles three times more and looked again. Barnell was barely responsive. “It’ll do.” He announced. “Give him another one.” Without warning Potter slammed his fist into Delnick’s nose. He fell back groaning to the floor. “Get up and fuck him.” Potter ordered. “I can’t. I won’t get hard.” Delnick whined as blood trickled out his nostrils. Potter shoved Delnick over on his stomach with his boot. “Give him two, right hand.” Delnick attempted to curl his hands but Battles dropped his knee into Delnick’s back just as Potter had done to Barnell earlier. Delnick let out a groaning wail as Battles grabbed his wrists. He twisted the rapist’s arms up and towards him, his grip on the cuffs making it impossible for Delnick to hide his knuckles. Battles popped his knuckles twice, then rubbed the wood back and forth a few times before dropping Delnick’s wrists. “You fuck him, and we let you go. That’s the deal. You fuck him and this will all be over. I don’t care if you have to think about fucking your sister or some hot chick you saw at the PX, but fuck him hard, shoot your load and we leave the key to the cuffs on that shelf over there and go away. This is just payback for that guy you did last year. Just teaching you a little lesson. Fuck your friend like you fucked our friend and we call it even. Hell, I’ll throw you a bone and say it’s okay if you think about how you fucked our friend, we know THAT got your rocks off. What do you say Delnick? Fuck him hard and give him that load you’ve been dreaming of fucking into him, or we beat you so much over the next two hours that you get a medical discharge and a lifetime of VA appointments. Your choice.” Potter was incredibly reasonable. Assmunch had no problem believing there had been more than just one non-specific friend these two had victimized over the last year. “You promise? You’ll let us go?” Delnick was crying again, blubbering like the coward he was. “Yeah man, it’s a promise. And none of us will say anything about any of this.” Potter said with a convincing smile. “O-o-okay…I’ll try.” Potter smiled again. “Remember, just like you fucked our friend, or the deal’s off. He told us all about it. That’s how we knew about the thing you like to say ‘if he ain’t bleeding you ain’t trying’. We really need you to mean it, okay?” Delnick nodded working his way to his feet. “You probably need us to help you with your jeans, right?” Potter said. Delnick nodded. Potter undid the top button on Delnick’s 501’s, then slowly undid the buttons below it. He rubbed the back of his hand over Delnick’s crotch as he moved. In a seductively low voice Potter continued. “Wow, buddy, looks like you’re packing a nice piece of meat there. Your buddy is sure gonna enjoy that, feeling you ramming that piece up his warm tight hole. He’s probably a virgin, right? He’s gonna love you opening him up like a whore, a real man like you, giving him what he secretly wants. Showing him what he’s good for, being a fuckhole for you to empty your balls. Yeah, it’ll hurt him at first, but that’s good, isn’t it, shows him how to be a real man.” “Delnick…don’t.” Barnell’s raspy tortured voice came out soft and hoarse. Potter grinned. “Got a little fight in him, but that’s the way you like it, isn’t it? He doesn’t know how much he’s gonna like it though, once you get to pounding. They all settle down after a while, don’t they? They fight at first, but then they just lay there and enjoy it, because they love that big dick of yours. They can’t help it. Just fucking love this cock…”. Potter had pushed Delnick’s underwear down to his thighs along with his jeans and was gently stroking his cock that was now hard. “Yeah man, go on, show him how a real man fucks. Show us how you like to do it so we can all go home and get some sleep tonight.” “Please … no…”. Barnell barely had enough control over his torn vocal cords to get the words to come out as more than a whisper. “Oh, say that thing you like to say.” Potter urged with a grin. Delnick cleared his throat. “If he ain’t bleedin’ you ain’t tryin’” Potter clapped him on the back. “Hell yeah buddy, show us what it’s all about.” Potter pointed Delnick’s rather average dick at Barnell’s hole. “All the way in the first plunge, as hard as you can, just like my friend. Won’t it be fuckin’ hot when that warm blood coats your big cock? Fuck yeah.” Potter pulled on Delnick’s dick one more time, forcing a drop of precum to the top. “Do it. Now.” And gave Delnick a nudge on his lower back. He thrust forward with all his weight in one violent heave. The sound that came out of Barnell was a toneless scream of wheezing tortured air, and he bucked forcefully to try to get away. But of course he couldn’t. “Yeah buddy, fuck him hard! He loves it, you’ll make him cum if you keep fucking him hard like that. Nice big hot cock ripping into him, fucking him like a real man should. Damn, that’s as hot as our friend said, he said he hated it at first, but you fucked him so good he started to enjoy it. You’re a real stud. Shit, everyone needs that dick.” Potter kept up the talk, stoking Delnick’s ego, giving him an ongoing narrative to get him where he needed him. Whatever it took. “That’s it, it’s going to feel so good to unload in that ass. You gotta be close. Watching you take that hole has got me boned, man. See how he’s just laying there now? He knows what that hole is for. Go ahead. Shoot your load, let’s all go home.” Delnick started thrusting faster, trying to work himself up enough to cum. It wasn’t easy. He had no control, no power in this. Without that this was a disgusting fag fuck. He closed his eyes and pictured sexual fantasies, trying to find one that would ramp him up. He was going to cum in Barnell’s ass. Hell, his buddy probably DID like it, just a little. He’d probably ask him to fuck his ass again after this. Delnick imagined Barnell begging him to do it just one more time, and imagined himself sneering at Barnell and calling him a desperate faggot hungry for dick. Seeing Barnell’s sad shocked face as he spat the insult at him started his balls churning. Yeah, Barnell would probably turn into one of those disgusting homos who couldn’t get enough dick. Delnick always figured Barnell leaned that way. The guy was always scoping out the new classes at Airborne. It was Barnell that picked the guy out they would fuck. It was Barnell that arranged everything, planned it out. Delnick hardly thought about it at all until Barnell called him to say he’d picked out another one. Barnell found the places they would take the guys, like this shed. None of this was Delnick’s idea, he was just having a little fun, releasing a little stress. The more he thought about it while fucking Barnell’s bloody ass they more he realized Barnell was a little faggot too. He probably jacked off thinking about Delnick’s dick, he was always so eager to get Delnick into the guys they fucked. Too eager. Well, if Barnell wanted his dick, he was gonna get it. Delnick started fucking with angry, jabbing thrusts. He wished he had the use of his hands to grab his fellow MP’s hips. Barnell was responsible for getting him into this mess. It was all his fault, the dirty fucking pervert. It was no more than he deserved. This was probably what he dreamed about all along, why he’d picked Delnick to be his wing man. He was getting close, real close. He pulled his dick all the way out and shoved it back in making Barnell gasp with pleasure, obviously loving it. He did it again, and again, then a third time when he felt his cum start shooting deep in Barnell’s bloody asshole. He pushed further in, letting his seed fill that faggot’s hole. The exertion of his finish was still washing over him when he felt the cuffs release and a hand grabbed his wrist. He felt Barnell’s sidearm touch his palm as his arm was pulled forward just as he realized what was happening. The sound of the weapon discharging with two loud pops echoed in the shed as Barnell’s body twitched on the shelf. Then the gun was pulled from his hand and placed against his temple. He barely had time register shock when everything went black. ************ ASSMUNCH It all happened so fast after Delnick came. Battles pushed Assmunch towards the shed door then immediately unlocked Delnick’s right handcuff when Potter grabbed his hand and lifted his arm holding Barnell’s sidearm in Delnick’s palm. He pointed it Barnell’s head and Potter pulled the trigger twice in quick succession then without a pause he dropped Delnick’s hand and raised the gun to Delnick’s temple at a slight backwards angle. One quick pull saw Delnick’s head jerk away. Three seconds. It almost seemed impossible for so many things to happen in so short a time. There was no splatter, no skull explosion like in the movies. Potter dropped the gun from where he pulled the trigger before Delnick’s lifeless body hit the floor. Battles carefully unlocked the left handcuff, reset them, and casually tucked them back into Barnell’s utility belt. Potter did a quick scan of the shed, placed the mag light on the upper shelf near the edge and picked up the piece of lumber they’d used. “Hmmm, his pants need to be pulled back up.” Potter said. “Took him a few minutes to think through what he’d done, to figure out there was no way out of this. He’d have pulled up his jeans, just doing the top button.” “Sound right.” Battles replied. The two of them made quick work of getting Delnick’s jeans back up, and then carefully rearranged him exactly as he fell. “You understand all this, Andrew?” Potter asked. Assmunch was still processing it. It was nothing like he’d thought. The puzzling part was how little he felt about seeing two men get shot in the head. Except for the loud retort of the weapon discharge their actual moments of death were sudden and quiet and it seemed like there should have been … well, MORE. The finality of it, the abrupt stillness argued against the nature of the violence and the buildup that preceded it. It demanded an equal ferocity that would never blossom, like watching lightning strike without the thunder that should follow, the explosion of a mortar without the whump of air pressure. And deeper… a recognition that there was an absence of satisfaction. It should have felt like a resolution, a series of actions that resulted in a sense of completion. If anything, it all felt lacking. Empty. The anticipated cathartic feeling of righteous justice did not manifest in this room. Even Potter and Battles continued on as if nothing of import occurred. The disparity between what he expected to feel and what he didn’t feel created an incongruity that would necessitate further examination. But not now. He had a doubt that the reconciliation would ever happen for him, there wasn’t enough discord within him to require the type of soul-searching he expected. His non-reaction bothered him more than what might spur a moral conflict. “Uh, yeah, I think. You want it to look like an argument between lovers. Like Barnell wanted to call it off, they fought, Delnick wasn’t on board with that. It got out of control and Delnick realized he was fucked either way so he did Barnell, then offed himself.” Potter nodded. “Pretty close. It reads either way…either Delnick came onto Barnell and was rebuffed and threatened exposure so Delnick raped him and killed him, or they’d been having a lover’s spat. The beatings we gave them both weren’t punishment, it was just enough to be evidence of a mutual fight between former friends. You fight your friends differently than your enemy. Delnick forced himself on Barnell once he had him subdued. The investigation won’t go any further than this shed. Everything is explained with what they find in here and their actions today. I think these two also had the occasional unexplained times when their whereabouts couldn’t be explained suggesting they disappeared at times for secret meetups. Are you good, Andrew?” Assmunch met Potter’s eyes. “I’m not sure why, but yeah. Just not sure it won’t hit me later. You think it will?” Potter shrugged. “Hard to say, but you? I don’t think so. You stay in your lane. You look ahead, not back. Don’t worry about this not hitting you hard. Like I said, everyone is different, and this situation I think falls into one of your ‘had to be done’ categories. If there’s one thing I know about you Andrew, is you tackle things head on. They don’t creep around in your head taking up space. And at the end of it all, you didn’t pull the trigger. You’ll be fine. Everything that happened tonight stays in this shed. I’m already erasing it in my head. You should too.” Potter then turned to Battles. “Just cleanup left. Andrew doesn’t have gloves, make sure you get the top of the mag light where he grabbed, get both their hands on it. CID will fit it into their conclusions however they think goes along with what they decide.” “What about his weapon? I grabbed it.” Andrew asked. “Textured grip. Can’t get anything off that. Trust me, there’s too much here pointing to only these two being involved. And when they dig deeper into their whereabouts the last 24 hours, then look even deeper and further back, it’ll all be crystal clear. What I hope is that at least one or two of their previous victims tried to make a report. And hopefully their hands will be on any investigation, which I would expect they’d volunteer to handle. Once CID starts digging and asking questions, they should figure out who these roaches are and what they might have done. Then, CID won’t be looking for any other reason than these two having a falling out. But even if that doesn’t happen, THIS piece of shit”. He said, gesturing to Delnick’s crumpled body. “Fucked THAT piece of shit bloody and dumped his load in his ass. Hard to explain that if someone else did the deed. Get going. Pace your way back, take your time, don’t get distracted with thoughts, stay aware. Caution is the priority, not time. You absolutely can’t be seen.” Then putting it it language more familiar, “Your mission isn’t over until you’re in your bunk.” Assmunch nodded. Then dipped his head at Battles. “You have a blank check for this, you know that right?” He said. “It’s all a blank check for a brother. That’s why we’re here. That’s why you’ll be there when we need it. Isn’t that right, Battles? There’s no scorecard between brothers.” “Hoo-rah”. Battles said in a soft growl without even looking at them while he took care of the final details. Assmunch turned and left the shed, heading back the way he came, being careful to stick to the path they’d already taken to get to the shed. ************* WEEBLE Sleep came hard, and sporadic. The feeling of being trapped forced him to jolt awake repeatedly and jerk his head around to make sure of his surroundings. He’d then spend 20 minutes or more trying to get back to sleep only to wake up again a short time later. He SHOULD feel safe, here in the barracks, surrounded by the Bravos. But he didn’t. No, that wasn’t right. He felt safe. But he couldn’t forget. This time he woke himself up stifling a scream. The image of Delnick and Barnell in the front seat as they drove him to the shed panicked his dream. He heard a shuffling two bunks over. He turned his head. Zeus was walking toward his bunk, in his puppy dog pajamas. When the giant got close, he whispered “I’m okay Zeus. Just a dream.” Zeus didn’t say anything. He pulled Weeble’s blanket back and climbed in the bunk. “No more dreams.” Zeus said, pulling Weeble into his arms and surrounding his entire body. The last thing Weeble thought before waking up was how he didn’t feel trapped.

Hell dude, that makes me extremely happy. I will always strive to bring out the human side of the life these characters chose. It’s important to me to portray our soldiers as living beings with emotional souls that sometimes find themselves caught in a crisis of conscience. It affects them, and I won’t pretend that they are robotic automatons that always follow orders. The things the Army asks of them aren’t easy, sometimes at war with their nature.

Thank you man!

Maybe when this epic is done, and after a good intense edit. As a single piece it will need a smoother progression from chapter to chapter, but I admit I have been enjoying doing this chapter by chapter because it allows for a much less pressure filled writing session. LOL. Thank you, I am truly trying to write my best. I feel like I have to give you guys a good story with investment because for the time being the sex scenes are few and far between. But at least I can give you a different sort of excitement in between the spread out sex scenes.

Damn, buddy, that’s high praise. Thanks, even though I don’t feel I deserve it on that impressive level, it feels good to have you say it. This episode with Weeble is muddy for me because the elements are far too complex to separate logic and feelings which makes the weave important while at the same time we see a different aspect to each of their personalities. I easily could have doubled the length of this chapter and delved so much deeper, but felt the focus needed to remain on putting Weeble back together. But later I will dive into far more of the mental battlefield they have to navigate that far too often leaves men failing to cope with what they have to do.

SUNDAY 1600 HOURS “Hey, where’s Weeble?” Troll called out to the brothers who were finishing up the housekeeping in the barracks. “He went to the gym this morning. Must be out doing personal stuff.” Mini Hulk replied. “He asked me to go with him at 0930, but I had to wait for the phone to call my girl. When I got to the gym he was already gone.” “He knew we had to do the barracks this afternoon. And he should have waited for you.” Troll answered, a little worried. “Weeble never bails. Why’d he go alone, he knows we have to go in pairs? If he had something to do he would have said something.” In fact, Weeble was rarely by himself. He hung around spreading his happy smiles all over the place like he just loved every minute of being in the brotherhood, even when the day sucked balls. “I’m gonna talk to Assmunch.” He found Assmunch cleaning the shower room, wiping down the handles in just his briefs. “Hey Troll. Everything good in the bay?” Assmunch said after a quick glance. “Yeah Assmunch, almost done. Potter’s got the randoms almost done with their end. He found a bag of Doritos in one of the empty lockers. Battles and Lenger are stuffing their face in the day room. Hey, no one’s seen Weeble since 0930. Mini Hulk was supposed to meet him at the gym but he said Weeble was gone when he got there. Did Weeble tell you he would be out all day?” Troll asked. Assmunch tilted his head. “He didn’t say anything. He told me he was going to the gym, but said he’d be back by lunch. I should have noticed. He’s had a lot on his mind, maybe he just needed a quiet place to think. But someone should be with him. Anyone else missing? I’ll take care of his space.” “Nah, I’ll do it. I like the little guy. Keeps everyone’s spirits up. Everyone else is here, Assmunch. He’s alone.” Troll said. “Shit. Yeah, he brightens everyone’s day. But let’s stop calling him little though. I think he’s heard it enough. I want him to think of himself as more than the little guy in the Bravos.” Assmunch said. Troll blinked. “Yeah, you’re right. Besides, he doesn’t act little. I should have thought of that. Used to get called fat a lot in high school, didn’t like it even as a joke from my friends. It gets old.” “Right. We can fuck with anyone else, and even fuck with Weeble on other stuff. Just not the little part.” “Clear Assmunch.” Troll agreed. “Let’s wait until evening chow, see if he shows up. He won’t miss that. But we need to tell Lenger.” Assmunch decided. Troll nodded and went back to the bay to do Weeble’s area. Sleeper and Zeus came into the shower room passing Troll as they walked. “Assmunch, you mind if we take a shower? Mopping the floors got us sweaty and I smell like cleaner.” Sleeper asked. “Yeah, go ahead. I haven’t done that one down there yet, but you have to share. And wash the soap and shampoo down the drain.” Assmunch said. He took the opportunity to watch them shuck off their shorts, and Zeus peeled his tight tee shirt off his bulging, scarred torso. They were smiling and whispering to each other, which made Assmunch happy. Sleeper’s perfect ass still had it’s mesmerizing effect on him. Of course, Zeus’s ass was beautiful too, wide and thick like the powerful hind of a charging rhino. Nothing about Zeus was small, and it made sense proportionally and aesthetically that his legs and ass had to be substantial to power that massive body. “Watch the door for a sec, bro?” Sleeper said. “Sure thing bud.” Assmunch replied, walking over to the opening. He averted his eyes to give them a moment, using the time to pick up their clothes and set them on the slatted wooden bench just outside the shower opening. “You’re good.” He said while he folded their clothes. He chuckled, what the fuck was he doing that for, they were dirty? Habits. He finished anyway, just to give them a little bit more time. These private moments were rare. He really couldn’t be happier for them and loved seeing the stolen moments of kindness pass between them with grins and usually a slightly cocked eyebrow. Zeus’s eyes rarely left Sleeper’s face or body. Assmunch was normally one of the first to wake in the mornings, his internal alarm clock opening his eyes a few minutes before his set time. He’d watch Zeus wake up and the very first thing he did every time was look over at Sleeper’s bunk and smile. Then he’d lean over and very gently rub Sleeper’s shoulder, or his head and lean over to utter “Wake up, Addison.” In the sweetest voice imaginable. On those occasions, Sleeper would blink his eyes, yawn, and immediately when he saw Zeus a big smile broke over his entire face. Then he’d remember where he was, and dial it back to a regular smile and go all tough guy Addison. But for that brief moment you couldn’t miss how into each other they were. When he turned the corner again, they were showering normally with that efficient and fast scrub down you learned early on in the military. They took a moment to direct the hard shower spray with a hand and foot sweeps to move the soap and suds towards the drain then shut the water off. “All done Assmunch, thanks!” Sleeper said. “Hey if you see Lenger, send him in, okay. I’ll be done in a few minutes.” Assmunch said. “Sure thing, bro. C’mon Gabriel.” Sleeper sauntered over to the opening shaking his incredible pale muscle ass around the corner. That handsome arrogant fucker looked like a prancing horse and he wasn’t even trying. Kevin had to see that just once in his life, Assmunch decided. It was a fucking work of art. “Thanks Andrew.” Zeus smiled. Shit…every fucking time that smile melted Assmunch inside. Kevin had to see that too. He was just finished cleaning that last shower section when Lenger stepped around the corner. “Sleeper said you wanted to see me? I know I don’t have to check your shower, Assmunch.” The Petty Officer said. Assmunch smiled in thanks. “Nah, that’s not it, but look if you want. It’s Weeble. He didn’t take MiniHulk to the gym with him this morning, and he’s been gone all day. I’m not reporting him…just worried. It’s not like him. What should we do?” Assmunch knew what he would do, but Lenger was Stick Leader. He had to be informed and Assmunch wasn’t going to step on his command. “Let’s get Potter. I know what I SHOULD do, which is report it to Sergeant Airborne or the Cadre. Right now, he’s just off alone, nothing that needs to bring the place to alert. But let’s see what Potter thinks first.” “Yeah, another brain sounds good.” Assmunch agreed. Between the three of them, hopefully there’d be a solution that didn’t involve the Cadre. *************** Sunday 1630 hrs. “Fuck, he’s not supposed to go anywhere without a buddy. You think the Cadre took him in?” Potter said. Assmunch scowled. “For six hours? Take him for a simple Disciplinary Action? And his first? No, I don’t think so. And they’d give him over to Lenger. They’d run him or he’d be sponge washing the outside of the barracks. Something isn’t right. Sergeant Airborne is going to be here in 20 to get us for chow.” Lenger looked torn. “Assmunch, we have to tell Sergeant Airborne. What can we do? Do you think he took off?” Assmunch thought. Maybe before last night, before the bus ride back Weeble might have just ditched to get booted. “He was in a great mood this morning. He was going to go with MiniHulk to the gym, he was never intending on going alone. No, Weeble wouldn’t ditch.” Potter breathed. “Assmunch, there’s not much we can do. You want to search the entire base? And as soon as we start asking questions it’s going to get the Cadre’s attention, and then there’ll be questions about why we didn’t report it. Lenger could get booted over this.” “Fuck, Potter, I don’t care. I don’t need the tab. Just figured it might get me preference for a nice posting.” Lenger said much to Assmunch’s admiration. Assmunch closed his eyes to think. He took a few deep breaths finding that mental clarity Major Collins was teaching him. His eyes flew open. “Major Collins. Potter, do you think you could get ahold of him?” Assmunch blurted out. “I… I’m not sure, Assmunch. You’d probably have a better chance than I would. Why me?” Potter asked. “Marines. If the shit hits the fan, you and he can play it off like a Marine asking another Superior Marine for some advice before Jump Week, or some bullshit.” Assmunch threw out. Potter wasn’t convinced. “I’ll do it, brother, if you really want. But you know if we get an officer involved it’s out of our hands. And I’m going to ignore that you just suggested that Marines lie about anything.” Assmunch took a moment to really think about it. Major Collins wasn’t connected to the 507th, he was here for some other reason, that much was clear. So he didn’t HAVE to say anything to the Cadre if he didn’t want to, especially if all they were asking for was his advice. “No, we call him. He’ll know the right way to handle this. And you won’t have to lie, Potter. I wouldn’t ask that of you. I wouldn’t lie myself if it came down to it. And he’ll probably just tell us to inform our Sergeant Airborne.” Potter shook his head. “Lenger, you okay with this? You agree this is the right way to go?” Lenger looked at Assmunch, then at Potter. “I have to be honest here. If it were someone else asking me to do this Assmunch, I’d say no without blinking. This doesn’t make me comfortable at all. This is something for the Cadre to handle. But this is your guy, and you always seem to know what you’re doing. I’m going to trust you, Harris. Potter, try to get ahold of Major Collins. Let’s see what he says.” Potter got up to go to the phone in the day room. “He’s going to say we have to tell the Cadre, you know that right?” Lenger said with a sympathetic look. Assmunch sighed. “Probably. It’s what we should do, and honestly if Weeble isn’t back by form up for chow, we don’t have a choice. Sergeant Airborne will do a head count. If he’s not back by then, you have to tell Sergeant Airborne before he takes the count.” Lenger gave a sad grin. “It’s not the end of the world, Andrew. It’s his first DA, he can still make his jumps.” “That’s not what I’m worried about, brother. Weeble’s never far from the brotherhood. Demon, I could see him losing track of time, doing something crazy. Wanker and Bootlicker, sure…they’re like a couple of raccoons getting into shit they shouldn’t. But not Weeble. His one thing is he doesn’t want to be a fuck-up. If he isn’t back it’s because he CAN’T be back.” Assmunch spelled it out. “Which means something happened.” ************** WEEBLE He lay there long after they left, somehow both grateful and disappointed that they hadn’t done what they said and shot him in the head. He would have welcomed a bullet. The darkness of the cold shed matched his thoughts. They’d locked the door behind them and left him exactly as they’d taken him, cuffed and hooked laid facedown on the plywood shelf in his own now dried vomit, his sweats and briefs now around his ankles. Why had they locked the door? Why had they left him there? He couldn’t feel his hands or his arms anymore. He refused to think about his ass. Thinking about it only made him seize up in pain when his torn and ravaged sphincter contracted. Small amounts of light bled through where the roof met the walls above. Why had they locked the door? Why had they left him there? His throat was raw and sore from the repeated abuse and the acidic bile he’d thrown up. It was almost impossible to swallow through the pain. The cold plywood felt like a small comfort against his ear. The afternoon was quiet except for the occasional wind. He wondered if he would bleed to death, if Barnell had ruined him so bad he’d bleed out slowly. He couldn’t tell if he was still bleeding back there but he knew he had been before. The warmth of blood on his butt cheeks as Barnell thrust into him, the stickiness as their flesh met, the coppery smell that mixed with the odor of vomit that lingered in the air were all evidence of the damage Barnell had done. Thank God Barnell hadn’t been large. Victor would certainly have died from internal damage. He sobbed again. Would that have been so bad? Dying? He should have fought back harder. He should have been more aware of his surroundings instead of daydreaming. He should have never let his guard down. He should have waited for MiniHulk to go with him to the gym. He should have slammed that door in Barnell’s face. Victor examined every minute and was able to find every mistake he’d made before they’d got to the shed. He lay passive in the rear seat of the vehicle instead of kicking out the window, or kicking Barnell in the head while he drove. He could have tried to get his arms around his front and given himself a fighting chance. He should have seen the signs that he was a target. He’d put himself in a situation that resulted in the attack. He didn’t fight back hard enough when they first knocked him to the ground. He should have rolled and leapt to his feet to meet the attack. Even if he couldn’t fight off two of them he could have run. He should have shouted. It was no one’s fault but his. If his stomach wasn’t already empty, he would have thrown up all over again. Why had they locked the door? Why had they left him there? Why had they left him there? To come back. And either do it all over again, or take care of him once and for all in the darkness of night Probably both. He jerked. No! Please No! Even though it sent a searing pain through his ass, he tried to reach the floor with his feet. He squirmed and writhed causing more pain in his wrists and shoulders. He was too small, his legs not long enough as they swung in empty air. He began to cry again even after thinking he had no more tears to shed. He cried through the pain. He forced his head into the pool of vomit and pushed, scooting his body the tiniest inch backwards. They were coming back. When? How long was it since they left? He did it again, moving just the barest bit. His breath came in ragged sobs. Another inch and a crippling pain stabbed through his shoulders and back. His arms. Locked up behind him and hooked. What had they put him on? He tried to think. The image of the shelves inside the shed flashed in his mind, the picture of when they first dragged him inside. An extension cord, looped. A hook, in a ‘J’, straight out, mounted on the side of the shelves. The cuffs were hooked over it. He moved his numb hands, feeling the metal cuffs bite into his wrists and sending a new spike of agony down his arms. He felt the hook, examined it with his difficult to move fingers. Cold metal. A few inches long, maybe three. Two? Curved. The ground couldn’t be far away. If he could get his hips back more he could get his toes on the ground to support his weight enough to work his wrists off the hook. He tried again, this time pulling on his wrists as he tried to scoot back. If his wrists broke, they broke. He couldn’t think about that. He shifted into cold desperation as he grunted and fought to release his hands. He was probably causing damage. He didn’t care. It took him far too long to wedge himself backwards centimeters at a time. Every movement backwards raised his arms at a higher angle causing his nerves to flare up with throbbing molten torment. He suffered the now constant but duller stinging ache in his ass as a secondary concern, welcoming the pain as a test of his resolve to live. HE provided this pain, HE controlled it as a tool for focus and determination. His anger flared. “FUCK YOU!” He screamed out with a final roar of challenge that burned through every feeling of inadequacy, every doubt, every recrimination and self-persecution. When his toes finally made contact with the floor he was gasping for breath, but the exhilaration of being so close to escape forced him onward. “GAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH”. He screamed out as he stood on his toes and pushed with his head against the shelf while pulling his hands up the metal hook to release the cuffs from their trap. So close. Almost. Another millimeter. The second the cuffs slid over the top of the hook Victor collapsed to the floor, his head slamming into the wall beside the locked door. He allowed himself a moment to catch his breath and bask in the relief. But he couldn’t allow himself to rest for long as thoughts of his two attackers returning forced him to move once again. He rolled over to the side then onto his back and spun until his legs faced the shelves. Placing his feet as high as he could on the two by four vertical frame he lifted his hips to push his hands down below his ass. This was going to be the hard part. He folded his torso to decrease the distance from his shoulders to his hip as he fought to work his arms up under his ass. He laughed with an insane cackle when he said a prayer of thanks that he didn’t have an ass like Sleeper’s. First time in his life he’d been thankful for not having a muscle ass. His tiny little butt was going to help him today. And they’d done him a favor by leaving his sweats down, there was no fabric for the cuffs to get caught on and make the fight more difficult. He no longer cared about the pain in his wrists. His shoulders and arms felt instant warmth and relief but hadn’t yet recovered from the long period of immobilization. His nerves were reawakening with flares of stinging and prickling fire. His adrenaline was surging and with it the torment to his body receded. When he finally worked his wrists past his hips and ass, he relaxed his legs and folded himself in half with his hands behind his thighs. He brought his arms up and pulled them over his feet. He only allowed himself to celebrate his success for 30 seconds to regain some energy after the exhausting strain he’d just endured, lying on his back taking deep gasping breaths, his cuffed hands resting above his head. He spun around, still on his back until his feet were pointed at the door. He put everything he had into a two footed kick at the sturdy frame. It was a basic shed door, constructed of two by fours and a sheet of plywood. The darkness of the shed was not absolute and small bits of sunlight bled through several cracks where the walls met the roof. He kicked hard. The door didn’t have a handle, so it must be secured with a latch on the outside. A simple metal latch with a ring for a padlock most likely, attached with screws to the plywood. With enough force, the screws would rip through the wood and tear the latch away. He kicked again. And again, flashes of light coming through the edges every time the door flexed outward.. It was taking too long. It would eventually bust, but his kicks towards the bottom weren’t transferring enough force to the latch area. He climbed to his feet, reached down to pull up his sweats and took a few steps back. He mentally braced himself to shoulder the door with as much impetus and weight as he could manage. He pictured the latch placed near the center of the edge. He remembered how the door opened to the left from the outside, so the hinges were on his right. He’d hit the left side, toward the middle, right where the latch should be. “YOU FUCKING PIECE OF FUCKING SHITTY FUCKING SHIT!” He screamed as he ran and lunged with his shoulder. The latch, already weakened from his repeated kicks, tore loose after only a slight resistance. The sudden daylight blinded him as he soared through the air and plowed into the dormant winter grass and dirt outside the shed. He laughed with his face into the dirt. “Fuck you motherfucker.” He said, still laughing. He didn’t know why he was laughing. He could run now. The image of his beaten body running across the base, his hands in cuffs, sent an alarm through his brain. That would draw attention. He be stopped, someone would inform the Cadre, there would be questions, an investigation. Part of him wanted that to happen, wanted Barnell and his psychotic buddy to roast and rot in prison. But it would also make him a target for all the questions he didn’t want to answer. Everything would come out, everyone would know what had been done to him. And there was the good chance Barnell and his friend would talk their way out of it with easily crafted denials and excuses for their whereabouts. Sure, Victor’s savagely raped body was clear evidence that something had happened, but there was nothing that pointed to his two attackers. Victor wasn’t completely present mentally after a while and wasn’t even sure if either of them had ejaculated to leave behind DNA evidence. And at least the other guy was an MP which meant his buddies would be the ones doing the investigation. Just the thought of doctors and nurses examining his mouth and ass, poking, looking, maybe even taking pictures… Victor dry heaved with jerky spasms with the realization that would be another rape, another intimate violation made even worse because he willingly put himself in their hands. There would be arguments about whether he remembered the details correctly, accusations of willing participation, why hadn’t he gone with another soldier to the gym? Could it be because he was trying to sneak off alone to meet someone for rough sex that just got out of control? Did he like it at first? Was this just regret after things had gone too far? Having to tell the story over and over again. Was he protecting his illicit lover by accusing Barnell and the MP? Each question forcing him to relive his terror, his pain, his torment at their hands again and again. He imagined the false sympathy of the investigator saying “We want to help you, just be honest with us, tell us the truth. You have to admit, this sounds far fetched.” He had to get the cuffs off. He tried to pull them over his folded hands but couldn’t. He got up and went to look in the shed. Maybe there was something slippery he could use. With the light from the door he looked around. He needed oil, lubricant, even some kind of glue. Anything wet. There were some canisters on the back shelves. He couldn’t see a way to work the lids off. There was wood, construction materials, a couple pieces of equipment but no motors that required oil. Some chain link fence repair tools. A couple of bags of concrete. He tried working the cuffs down again but couldn’t get past his thumb knuckle. He glanced around again. Vomit. It might work. He went to his knees. The large puddle wasn’t dry, still mushy with chunks of cereal and eggs mixed in with the stomach acid and milk. He slathered it on his hands thickly then pulled at the cuff on his left wrist while squeezing his hand together as crushed as he could make it. It was working. For the second time he was grateful for his small size. His constant and deliberate effort managed to slip the cuff past his thumb knuckle and his hand was free. He immediately realized he was still in the shed and could be trapped again too easily. He quickly slathered more of his puke on his right hand and ran outside. Now that he knew what he had to do, he had the right cuff off in less than a minute. It hurt, but the pain was nothing to him now. It was all pain. Everything was pain. So fuckin what? It took pain to survive and embracing it fully was the only way. Should he keep the cuffs, just in case? As proof? How many sets was an MP issued? Were they identified and registered to him? What time was it? The overcast sky gave him no way to judge the angle of the sun. It was afternoon, but how late? He didn’t know where he was, what part of the base. He wasn’t Infantry MOS, hadn’t been here for his post Basic training like most of the other Bravos so he had no idea what the different areas were or where. He looked around the horizon, hoping to see buildings he might recognize. He saw the training towers in the far distance, three, maybe four miles away, and began to run. The punishment to his body settled into deep aching - his ribs where he’d been kicked, his face where Barnell had kneed him, his ass, his balls, his wrists. Thankfully his shoulders had returned to normal feeling now that they were in their proper position and alignment. He ran, and as his legs pumped the rage began to build, increasing with every stride. BARRACKS 1645 Hrs Almost everyone was in place outside the barracks, lined up double file to wait for their weekend Sergeant Airborne. “Is that Weeble?” Shark asked. Assmunch whipped around to look where Shark pointed. Thank God, it was Weeble, running with a limp in his gait, holding his left ribs. They weren’t required to be in uniform outside of duty hours, but if they weren’t their clothes had to be clean and orderly. Weeble had his sweats on, and he was soaked. “Thirteen minutes, Weeble! Better hurry. Glad you made it.” Assmunch said as Weeble ran by, not looking at them or smiling and instead he seemed to have a look of determined fury he’d never seen Weeble elicit. Assmunch left his spot to follow Weeble inside the barracks. He saw Weeble at his locker removing his padlock. A pair of silver handcuffs lay on his bunk. “Victor, what’s going on?” Assmunch asked. “Nothing.” Weeble’s answer was a short bark. “Leave me alone, Brickmann. I’ll be out in a minute.” Brickmann? “Okay brother. Just remember to sign back in before getting in formation.” Assmunch replied. As he walked out the door he glanced back and saw Weeble heading for the showers, his change of clothes in his hands. He got back in formation and said to Sleeper “Something’s up with Weeble. And he had handcuffs with him.” In a whisper, Sleeper replied “Where’d he get handcuffs?” “I don’t know, I couldn’t ask. He just about ordered me to leave him alone. Whatever is going on, it’s not good.” Assmunch said. Assmunch was chewing over it in his head. Major Collins had said what they all expected, that if they were that concerned they should inform the Cadre, adding that’s what they were there for. Also, Lenger was required to inform the Cadre that Weeble hadn’t been accompanied by a buddy to the gym but it was up to him if Weeble managed to return before chow, and that he’d better be ready to answer for not only allowing Weeble to leave unaccompanied, but also for not knowing his whereabouts. “Fuck!” He said out loud. Sleeper turned around again. “What?” Assmunch growled. “The in/out sheet. I told him to sign back in, but it’s going to show he’s the only one to sign in now.” “I’ll take care of it.” Sleeper said. Sergeant Airborne would be here in just a few minutes. “You think any of the Cadre saw him running back?” “Aw hell! I don’t know. If they did, and the sign in has a different time he’s fucked, and Lenger’s fucked. “Wanker and I signed back in at 1540.” Bootlicker said from their left. “Just change our 5’s to a 6, then Weeble’s sign in right below ours will look fine. Make it look good, or do you just want me to do it?” He asked. I breathed a sigh of relief. “Yeah Bootlicker, you have better skills with that sort of thing. Hurry.” Weeble and Bootlicker came out together, Weeble looking serious but not furious like before. There looked to be a significant bruise on the left side of his face. Had he gotten into a fight? Bootlicker looked pleased with himself. If anyone knew how to get away with something sneaky, it was Bootlicker and his pet Wanker. Wanker had probably figured out a way to jack off in every corner of the barracks by the third day. He’d also found quite a bit of contraband hidden up in the ceiling tiles above the bunks that had been left behind by previous classes at Airborne. Some skin mags, a bunch of personal items that were probably stolen, a couple of blank passes and even a fucking black hat. Probably years of discarded or stashed items all over the place. Someone stole a Cadre’s black hat. No one wanted to get caught with that and then probably couldn’t figure out a way to sneak it into their gear as a souvenir… or maybe they just wanted to leave it behind for the next class. Only Wanker would think to look up inside the ceiling. Raccoons, both of them. Assmunch told Wanker to leave that shit up there, any of that shit except the skin mags would get them dismissed immediately if it was found in their possession. The skin mags did get passed around secretly though, a couple Penthouse, a Cheri, and three Hustlers. They were still contraband and against Basic Airborne Course Standard Operating Procedures and everyone understood if they got caught with them they took the hit. Wanker became the official Airborne Barracks Librarian, chasing down overdue pornography and handing out penalties which was usually loss of porn privilege for a specified period. “Sleeper, tell Zeus to talk to Weeble when we get back. I don’t think Weeble will tell Zeus to fuck off.” Assmunch said. “Roger that.” Sleeper said just as their Sergeant Airborne walked up. Sergeant Airborne started as he stepped into double time: Here we go! Here we go! All the way! All the way! Here we go! Here we go! Every day! Every day! Sign my name on the dotted line Sign my name on the dotted line All I do is the double time All I do is the double time Up the hill Up the hill Down the hill Down the hill On the hill On the hill Up the hill Up the hill AIRBORNE! AIRBORNE! HOOAH! HOOAH! You could hear other Companies of students shouting out other cadences down the street. Chow was it’s usual stuff fest. You didn’t have the luxury of having a relaxing chat over a lovely meal in the dining facility. If any Black Hat saw your tray empty and you weren’t moving already to return it, you were ordered to do it. No one needed to be ordered anymore. Wait in line, silent, get your tray filled (you actually had a couple choices in mains, sides and desert, which was totally cool), scarf it down, return your tray and go outside. Sleeper, Troll, MiniHulk, Chunk and surprisingly Holler got double helpings on their tray. Zeus tripled his, as usual and the cooks behind the line didn’t blink. Big boys needed plenty of fuel. Dessert was fucking peach cobbler… and damn it was EXCELLENT. Assmunch regretted not getting a double of that. As they individually finished they went outside to form up to wait for Sergeant Airborne to march them back to the barracks. When everyone except Sleeper and Zeus had formed up, Lenger nudged Potter. Sergeant Airborne was still in the dining facility. “You smokers are going to police the smoking area when we get back. Someone keeps throwing their butts on the ground. And you dippers and chewers use a fucking can. Stop spitting that nasty shit on the gravel.” “It’s not us, Corporal. It’s some asshole from one of the other floors.” One of the randoms answered. “Doesn’t matter when it’s our name on the duty roster. You’re out there enough, keep it clean. Or figure out who’s doing it and Lenger will take care of it.” “You want us to snitch?” “Fuck yes I want you to snitch. They aren’t in Alpha Company, fuck them. Especially when they trash an area designated to us. You let us know who, and I’ll dump every wad of used chew I can find into their pillowcase. Just because you’re Army doesn’t mean you need to put up with getting shit on, and that’s exactly what they’re doing - shitting on you because it’s not their problem and they don’t have to keep it clean. I’m sure as hell not going to let Lenger get reamed out because of it.” Potter REALLY didn’t like assholes. Sleeper and Potter got along great, like twins. Sleeper hated assholes too. Soon after, Sleeper and Zeus preceded Sergeant Airborne out the dining facility door. They double timed it back to the barracks. Sergeant Airborne took a quick glance at the in/out sheet at the CQ desk, then walked away towards the Cadre area. Guess everything looked fine to him. Bootlicker probably already knew how to forge the Sergeant’s signature too. Once everyone was in the billeting bay they relaxed. All the randoms went to the day room to watch a movie. Their favorites were Aliens or Full Metal Jacket. They’d watched those two enough times to wear the VHS tape out and shout as a group the best lines. “This is my rifle! There are many like it, but this one is mine…”. And “Why don’t you put her in charge!” And “In case you’re not keeping up with current events, we just got our asses kicked!” The Bravos all stayed behind to study not needing to see any of the movies again. “Zeus…” Sleeper said. Zeus nodded and walked over to Weeble who was laying on his bunk staring at the ceiling tiles, uncharacteristically quiet, keeping to himself, and even more telling - unoccupied with any task. From a distance it looked like a one sided conversation, Zeus barely moved while Weeble started with some angry objection and turned away from Zeus onto his side. Assmunch was glancing over trying not to appear like he was paying close attention, but he was. Zeus reached out and put a gentle hand on Weeble’s upper arm. Weeble tried to shrug him off, but Zeus wouldn’t allow it. Finally Zeus got up off the bunk and leaned over to scoop Weeble up in his arms. Weeble tried fighting himself out of Zeus’s hold, but Zeus just pulled him in tighter, whispering something in his ear, and then Weeble curled up and pushed his face into Zeus’s big chest. Zeus lowered his head and nuzzled Weeble’s face, walking toward the exit door. Weeble looked especially small and frail in Zeus’s arms. Assmunch exchanged a look with Sleeper, who shrugged. Zeus would figure it out, and if it was anything that needed Assmunch to intervene, Zeus would tell him. Assmunch was talking with Bootlicker about the trickier parts of turning your parachute into the wind for your landing, having Bootlicker explain it again with all the things to expect. Their first jump would be tomorrow. They’d get instruction first, probably have to demonstrate donning their equipment and other skills to the satisfaction of the Cadre as well as answer questions thrown at them. There was much that had to happen before they were even permitted on their ride. But tomorrow was supposed to be sunny and clear, a perfect day to earn your wings. Zeus came back in the door, an angry look on his face. Assmunch left Bootlicker with “Thanks bro, gotta take care of this I think.” Sleeper met him in the center aisle and they walked together to meet Zeus. “Andrew, it’s bad.” Zeus said. It was difficult to determine what Zeus meant by that because Zeus’s threshold of bad was a lot lower than just about anyone else’s. But the anger on his face had all the Bravos ready to go to war. It had to be truly bad. It was worse than anything they could have imagined. Assmunch wanted to cry along with Weeble’s tear-filled recital of the events after the gym. Zeus sat behind Weeble, his arms wrapped snugly around the smaller man, and boy did that look like a great place to be during the retelling. Assmunch wished he had a set of Zeus’s arms wrapped around him listening to the sick, vile things they did to Weeble. “So you think they were going to come back?” Assmunch asked. Victor nodded. “Victor, are you okay with bringing Potter and Battles in on this? I understand if you don’t, but something has to be done. They’ve both seen some awful shit. And you should probably let Lenger check you out if you don’t want to see Doc and stir up a hornet’s nest. We’ll do it whatever way you want, bud.” Assmunch kept his voice gentle and filled with understanding. Victor looked up at Zeus, who nodded. “Sure, Andrew. It’s okay.” Victor replied. He accepted that he’d placed himself in their hands. And none of them had ever done or said anything except treated him in a way that made him feel like they would do anything for him. And if Zeus said it was okay, then he’d do it how Zeus said. “Sleeper, let’s get them out here. We need a plan.” Assmunch had already decided there was going to be some non judicial punishment for those two. His only question, or rather reluctance, was just how far to take it. There was a line he didn’t want to cross. He wondered if he’d have a choice. Potter, Battles and Lenger joined them. “Sleeper filled us in, you don’t have to repeat it, Victor. It’s hard enough telling it once.” Potter said. “I have some questions, and I need you to think hard. What makes you think they were coming back?” Potter didn’t use a soft, touchy-feely voice like Assmunch. He wasn’t here to soothe or deal with feelings. That was Assmunch’s job, and it looked like Zeus was doing a great job of helping with that. After what Sleeper told him, he was here for one thing: figure out a way to remove that filth from the U.S. Army, as painfully as possible. If this was a battlefield, he and his buddies would be figuring out which one of them was going to deliver the bullet or how they were going to hang them out on the next patrol. “They left me handcuffed and hooked up, then locked the door of the shed when they left. They weren’t goin to leave me for someone else to find that way, my sweats down around my ankles, couldn’t move, dried blood in my ass. Too many questions were gonna be asked. He left his handcuffs, prolly MP issue. He was gonna get those back.” Victor answered. “Sounds about right. They were either going to wait for dark and get you into a vehicle to take you somewhere and kill you, or do it all again THEN get you in a vehicle to take you somewhere and kill you.” Victor jerked noticeably. “They said somethin when they were carryin me into the shed. Somethin bout ‘the other one’ like they done this before.” “Were they in uniform?” Potter asked next. Victor nodded. “One of em was. An MP. He called the one in workout clothes Barnell. The MP’s name tape said ‘Wilkerson’. Saw it when he stepped back while I was pukin.” “Do you know where this shed is? Can you find it again?” Victor shrugged. “I think so. They said it was over by the armory, and when I looked around to figure out how to get back I saw the jump towers. Between four and five miles from here I figure.” Victor closed his eyes. After about ten seconds he opened them again. “Towers center, a group of hangars to the right, closer to the shed, then on the left a big building three, maybe four stories.” “That’s HQ for the 507th. Hangars are maintenance for the 1-28th. So…. That shed is East Southeast. Anything else you overheard?” Potter said. Victor thought, going through everything he remembered, every word since he had first been tackled. “Barnell said I should have gone willinly, that he would have been nice about it, made sure it felt good. He said he had to report at 1400. Said I looked like a little kid. He said they were gonna kill me and throw me into an artillery crater, cover me with a little dirt, and let all the evidence get blown to bits the next time they was practicin. After that, it was just talk about rapin me.” Victor didn’t seem weak and beaten by the time he finished, he seemed angry, furious, and so unlike his usual self that Assmunch thought he was a different person. “1400. Midshift.” Potter mused. “Definitely another MP. I don’t know of another midshift on a Sunday when no one’s working except weekend Sergeants Airborne or Medical. I guess he could be a Medic. Midshift ends at 2300. That’s lights out for us, curfew is 2200 tonight. He and Wilkerson will be back at the shed tonight, I guarantee it. And Barnell is driving the bus, so Wilkerson won’t go alone. Neither one of them will take the chance of trying to handle their victim alone. They are cowards. Battles and I got this. It’s my duty to end this fucker. I know I don’t have to say this to you four, but Victor, you don’t ever talk about this, none of it, not you getting raped, not who you told, and nothing about this entire day. Ever. Do you understand? You never went to the gym. You got that bruise when you were running and tripped, it knocked you out and that’s why you were late coming back for chow formation. Picture your route back, figure out a place you would have tripped and fallen behind something or been hidden enough no one saw you, Imagine it happening in your head, see the thing you hit your head with. That’s your story for the bruise, and your late return. You will forget the names. You will forget the shed. No one saw you with either of them, there’s absolutely no connection to you, and I can tell you neither of them has told anyone and they’ve completely covered their tracks. Remember they said ‘the other one’ so they have been careful not to leave anything behind that will point at them. You will forget this day ever happened. You have a new day that you lived, one you spent largely unconscious. Corpsman Lenger checked you out and determined you don’t have a concussion that requires medical treatment. That’s the only way this works. Did you leave the handcuffs there in the shed?” Potter just graduated from Corporal Nub to General BigSwingingDick, Assmunch decided after all of that came out so smoothly it was like he had hours to think it through. Victor shook his head. “They’re in my locker.” Potter smiled. “Good. Go get them, put them in your pants, go to the latrine and wash those fuckers within an inch of their life, every crack, every crevice, use soap, lots of soap, and hot, hot water. Got it? Then bring them to me, wrapped in a paper towel. Try not to get your hands on them after you’ve got them washed. Super clean, got it?” “Got it.” Victor said. Then with hesitation “Am I goin with you?” Potter took a breath. “I know you want a piece of them, buddy. But you let Battles and me do what we’re good at, okay? We know where we’re going. We know how to do what needs to be done. We know how to live with it afterwards.” “Thank you.” Victor said, no weakness or uncertainty in his voice at all as he looked at each of them with his jaw clenched, a nod, and a steely glint in his eyes. “I’ll never forget you guys for this. Any of you.” Victor hugged Zeus’s arms, then pulled them away from his chest to get up and go inside. Assmunch sat there thinking. He could see no other way. Anything else was going to fuck everything to hell and destroy too many lives. And his conscience wouldn’t allow this to go unpunished. Sure, walking away was always an option, always a consideration but on the scales of justice he had to weigh the fact that they were in a position to put a stop to these feral, rabid beasts in a way that was the most humane for the greatest number of people. Victor didn’t need to be dragged through an investigation. Lenger was going to get raked over the coals as an example and probably would have a black mark big enough to make sure he never went anywhere in the Navy, not for allowing a student to go off alone, one of the simplest BACSOP, that resulted in an assault and rape. Accountability. Lessons of Command. An example for future Stick Leaders. Assmunch and some of the Bravos would probably not be punished judicially, but they might be tossed from the course if for no other reason that missing instruction or flights because a rape investigation trumped putting on a parachute and they’d be sitting in chairs in offices getting grilled and making statements about what they knew before, during, and after. No, Assmunch wasn’t willing to sacrifice that much for that many in order to send this through the chain the ‘right way’. And from the looks on their faces, everyone agreed, even Zeus. Sleeper, he knew, just wanted these fuckers to pay, as harshly as possible. There was no weighing other considerations. Lenger might object to Potter’s solution, but he was smart and had figured out what this meant for his career. Potter had provided a clear, definable path through this mess that may not make them happy, but it reduced the collateral damage to zero. Assmunch wanted to have a long talk with Potter some day about how he was so good at something like this. “Can you do it?” He asked Potter. The grin he got in answer was chilling. “This is what Marines do, Assmunch. And we are very, VERY good at it. I learned a lot in Iraq, some of the most important stuff isn’t in the instruction manuals. One of the things I learned is that there are soldiers who don’t think twice about fucking other soldiers over, and that ends up getting good people killed.” “When we wake up tomorrow, tonight never happened.” Assmunch said to Sleeper and Zeus. Zeus just returned his look with a hard gaze. “I’m going with them.” A shocked look of concern froze on Sleeper’s face, and Assmunch’s. “Zeus, you don’t want a part of this. Stay here.” Zeus’s eyes never wavered. “They are very bad men, Andrew. Very bad. Very bad.” Potter shook his head. “You don’t have our training Zeus. And what we have to do, you won’t like.” “Will you hurt them?” Zeus asked. “Yeah, a lot of that.” “Good. I will hurt them too. And then I will kill them.” Zeus said. He didn’t grin coldly like Potter. His face was ice, but his eyes were burning with Godfire. Those eyes held no forgiveness, no kindness, none of their usual curiosity and innocence. A part of Assmunch was washed with great sadness to see that look. The five of them sat shocked to silence. The chill in the evening air penetrated to their bones. Finally Potter spoke. “Zeus…Gabriel… you can’t come. You think you want to kill these guys, but when the moment comes it’s not anything like what you think. Your first kill changes you, and there’s a piece of you that dies too. Some guys think it doesn’t matter and can keep going always looking forward, never back so they don’t have to think about what’s gone inside themselves. I don’t think you can lie to yourself like that, not in the way it would take to make it not matter. Other guys, like Battles and I, we accept the brutal nature of killing, of ending a life because as much as we don’t like it, it’s sometimes necessary. There are some who find they enjoy it too much, and they change too and who they were before never comes back. But all of us…we know we’re killers. This is not some act of justice, or vengeance or self defense, or following orders. It’s cold blooded murder. I can wake up tomorrow and run, eat breakfast, focus on the instructors and the Jumpmaster, come back and sleep just fine. You won’t. Two more deaths for me won’t matter. No matter which way it goes for you, you will dwell on it, relive it, see it again and again on repeat in your head. You wonder how many times you have to watch him die before he stays dead and goes away. Before the moment you’re certain. When the moment comes you’re either high on adrenaline or terrified. Some guys, their hands shake so bad they can’t pull the trigger. After that round leaves the barrel the doubts begin to sing. They sing loud, and they don’t stop. The image of their body going suddenly lifeless and dropping to the ground stays with you for days after, sometimes weeks. And this won’t be an enemy bent on killing you first. This will be two American soldiers, subdued and begging for their lives. You will have enough opportunities to kill if you see combat. I hope you don’t. No one knows who they’re going to be when they come out the other side. This is not for you, not this time, not this way. You aren’t ready.” While Potter talked, I saw the angry fire in Zeus’s eyes sputter and die. He lowered his head. “Okay.” Sleeper looked at Potter with an intense gratefulness that could almost be felt. “Sleeper, Zeus… why don’t you go inside and watch over Victor. I need to have a talk with Assmunch here.”

Hmmm, will it be Gareth, or Hannes? Max’s debut seems to have gone well and I love how he’s both confident and competent, yet still has his doubts about fitting in. For some reason, I’m still picturing them both (Alex and Max) as really young (19 or 20) and then it surprises me when I read a section where they seem older and less frivolous. It’s nice that they have Artem and Tom to make sure they aren’t prematurely dour and staid. I’m really looking forward to the LA trip. Thanks Isolent!

Holy fuck… I don’t even know what to say to that… He seems quite… dedicated to chaos

Fuck bro… awesome! So glad your brothers gave you what you needed and you took care of them too. That’s how it should work.

Thanks bud. Building these characters for what’s ahead puts me on a roller coaster ride as well. The gritty reality of early military life truly does define the men they eventually become. Rites of passage come in many forms, and as you well know the military provides many of those. Some are not welcome, and all are best earned through hardship. The mechanics of how that functions on a personal level fascinates me, which I always hope comes through in my story. If I can provide a stirring of emotion and desire to sympathize I’m happy.

Thanks backpackguy. As much as I planned Weeble’s trauma, it still took a lot to actually write it and I put it off all week. Personally, I have a special place in my heart for the smaller guys, my husband is also 5’5” and just as happy and determined as Weeble. Back then, he had no meat on him at all. He’s told me stories of when he was in the Army and the guys in his unit were heroes in his eyes but what that really says to me was how he didn’t feel like he was really one of them, a hero himself. He was always looking up at them. When he reconnected with many of them 20 something years later, it was a huge surprise to him that they considered him like a brother, as an equal. The overnight change in him and his confidence because of that one realization was amazing to see. He loved his time in the Army, and when he got booted it really crushed him. It seemed to me like getting booted reinforced his belief that he didn’t belong there. Now I have to put Weeble back together. Which will be a far more enjoyable task.

Yeah, I know. It was NOT easy to write. While I wanted a longer chapter, I couldn’t drag the rape out. I really just couldn’t. 😞

Sunday Watching the clock was never good but we’d agreed on 10 a.m. so that’s when I would call. 0958. The phone in the day room went through the base switchboard and I didn’t feel comfortable talking with Kevin on a line that might be monitored. It probably wasn’t, but it could be. Possibility vs. Probability. I wasn’t paranoid, that was a known possibility on a military base. That’s something you learn when you grow up as a military brat. I chuckled at the sudden thought that Dad might have told us that when we were kids so we’d behave and not play around on the house phone. It seemed more likely that the military would potentially monitor office phones than base housing. The feeling that I couldn’t call my dad to ask if it was all made up still hit me hard. We could have a laugh about it, or he’d say ‘go ask your Sergeant. They love questions like that’. And I’d say ‘That only worked once Dad. God, Sergeant Keegan ripped me a new one.’ Yeah, my own Dad pranked me in Basic. Took me a couple days to stop being mad and see it for the joke it was but man was I pissed at him. I think it was his way of telling me to maybe relax a little, that being super recruit, super serious, follow all the rules Soldier was going to cause me problems. I still wasn’t going to take the chance with the barracks phone and besides, there were just too many soldiers hanging around to have a relaxed conversation. So I stood outside the closed bowling alley at a BellSouth payphone rotating Mom’s Sprint Long Distance calling card in my hand counting down the minutes. The late January morning was cold and gray with an unwelcome gusting breeze that seemed to go through me standing out in the open. At 30 seconds to 10 I started punching in numbers. “Building 24 Engineering Lab, please.” I directed the young sounding guy who picked up. “Just a sec.” He replied. There was a click, and phone ringing. Kevin picked up right away. “Four seconds late.” He said, not even saying hello. Awfully brave of him to assume it was me calling and not some professor. “Bite me. There’s a lot of numbers to punch in, asshole.” I countered. “Hey, four seconds is a lifetime in Engineering. Probably even longer jumping out of a plane.” I imagined that smirk of his I loved as he said it. “I miss you.” I said. I heard him sigh over the phone. “I always miss you. Your leave wasn’t enough time after a year and a half.” We both let the heartfelt silence hang for a few seconds. There was no accusation in his statement, nothing to be said that we hadn’t said already. In those seconds was a recognition that our time together for the next couple years would be short, bittersweet, and never enough. “So anything exciting happen this week?” I asked trying to avoid thinking about how we’d hardly ever see each other. He chuckled. “Nothing compared to you probably, but we’re having to make up for the lost week because of the storm, which means a ton of homework and reading. I got my student account for the mainframe, so that’s cool. We have to use this FORTRAN program for my Structural Principles class. And we have an email address at the school. Do you have electronic mail? You could send me letters.” “Like letters in the computer? And the rest of that sounded like you made up a bunch of words.” He laughed. “It’s real words, dude. Yes, email is in the computer. Right now it’s mostly government and universities, but you need a mailbox on a mainframe and a way to log in.” He explained. “I can’t see the Army ever letting us on some sensitive military mainframe. At my old unit we had a personal computer in the command offices we could get permission to use if we needed to write something up but there was no access to a mainframe.” “Well that sucks. This summer I’m going to take a Computers for Engineering course. It’s all going to be computers pretty soon.” I admit I was a little jealous for the first time. It wasn’t that I was interested in computers like my jock nerd boyfriend, it was just that he was seeing the world on the cutting edge of technology while I was learning skills that had hardly changed since WWII. Wanker and Weeble had more experience with technology than I would probably ever see. I wouldn’t trade being Infantry for the world, but it would be nice to learn some other stuff too. “How are you doing in Track?” I wondered. I could almost see him shrug. “You know, workout, train, run. My time in the hundred is better. And my vertical increased by two inches. I should do really well at Winter Nationals in March.” I smiled. “You’ll be great, man. I wish I could see it.” “Me too. So what about you?” He asked. “You finally jumping out of a plane this week?” “Yep. I’m sure it’ll be intense, but I’m ready.” “Are you nervous? I’d be pissing my pants.” He said. I doubted that, Kevin didn’t have a problem in the self confidence department. “A little, but not because of the jump. I’m really excited about that part. I just want to do it right. I actually can’t wait to step out that door.” I explained. I heard him laugh again. “Better you than me, babe. I wish I could be there to watch you and your buddies do it. See my totally fine Army boyfriend float down and land.” It was my turn to laugh. “Float. I wish it was floating. You hit pretty hard. They showed us a video tape in class one day of all these landings. It’s not like the movies. Imagine jumping off the roof of your house. Sometimes you get lucky and you’re into the wind, if there’s wind, and the right amount. Then you just touch down. We’re still supposed to collapse and roll though. But most of the time it’s not gentle at all.” “Well shit. Don’t break anything.” Then he asked the same thing he’d asked the last two times I called. “Any idea when you can get leave?” I felt a little bad. It wasn’t that I didn’t think about Kevin. It was just there wasn’t a lot of time to daydream about when I could see him next. I’d already done the math in my head and the soonest I could figure would be a couple months minimum. I saw two possibilities - One, after Jump School I got a permanent duty assignment somewhere and would have to put in some time before I was permitted any leave. And second, they would send us on to Ranger School which was sixty one days, then I would receive a permanent duty assignment, have to wait, then submit my request. I had plenty of leave accumulated, but depending on my unit and duty I may not be able to take it when I wanted. “I’m not sure. I’ll let you know next week after I finish here what the possibilities are.” He didn’t reply right away. That brain of his. Kevin was the only person I knew who crunched stuff in his head ALL the time. So I waited. When ten seconds went by in silence, I knew this wasn’t the usual gear turning. He had something important on his mind. Just sitting silent on the phone knowing he was on the other end felt good, like we were connected and closer than six states apart. Or was it seven? “I know it’s only been a couple weeks, Tom. But I really miss you bad sometimes. And I don’t want to act like some lovesick girl, but I feel like some lovesick girl. Most of me knows and understands you have to do this, and focus on your training, and everything is up in the air right now, but I can’t help the other part of me that just wants to be with you. And I don’t want to drop everything here even if I had the money to travel. It’s just hard, you know?” I closed my eyes and leaned against the payphone enclosure. “Yeah. Mostly I try not to think about it, baby. And it sucks that we just got back together and then separated again. I’m not finished with you, Kevin. I don’t think I ever will be. So I don’t think about it so it won’t hurt so much not being able to hold you. And now that Sleeper and Zeus are a thing, I wish all the time that you could be here with me, doing all this by my side like they get to do. We’d have so much fun.” “I think of that sometimes too - what it would be like if you went to school here, we could go on dates, do homework or read together. God that sounds so stupid, but we could do anything…just do it together.” I smiled. “That doesn’t sound stupid at all. It sounds sweet, and romantic. And exactly what I would like - watching you do my homework and watching you read.” That made him laugh, and it sent a jolt of happiness through me. “God, you’d owe me so many blowjobs, I’d make sure you were so deep in blowjob debt you couldn’t ever leave me.” He joked. And that made ME laugh. “News flash hot stuff…You’re not getting rid of me. One of us is always going to owe the other blowjobs. I think you still owe me three.” “Three? How’d I rack up three? I think it’s you who owes me two.” “Hmmm…” I mused. “I’m not sure, I just know it’s three for me.” “You just made that up.” He accused. “Well now it’s four.” “Four? How is this debt blowjob system going to work if you just throw another one on the pile whenever you want? That’s no system of fair trade.” “Well, the exchange rate is pretty favorable for you. If you want to exchange your blowjobs for fucking me, I’ll cancel two blowjobs for every fuck.” “Hmmmm…”. He mocked me. I know he was mocking me. “Do multiple orgasms count as a single fuck? Or is it just one fuck per orgasm, because that doesn’t sound like a good trade at all for you. And what’s the conversion rate for me?” “You just worry about paying off your debt. You’re up to six now. And no, you don’t get to count a fuck for every time you shoot a load in me. If your thick sexy cock doesn’t leave my ass, that counts as a single fuck no matter how many times you cum.” I thought I was doing pretty good making this up as I went. Well, it may have been completely made up on the spot, but I was liking the possibilities. “Fuck Tom, you have my dick leaking. I’m gonna wreck your tight grunt hole then next time I see you. The first one’s going to be rough, just like you like it. I mean, really rough. I have a lot of pent up frustration to take out on your hot ass.” His voice had lowered to a sexy, throaty growl that had my entire body flushing with heat. “Fuck yeah.” I said. “My dick is so hard right now babe. I want you to make it hurt so good.” God, I hadn’t cum in two weeks and I could pop so easy right now. “Yeah?” He said with just the right amount of cocky brutality, a derisive sneer in his voice. “You gonna beg for it? Smack you around a little bit before I jam it up your ass to make you scream like a little bitch? Huh? Is that what my little soldier wants?” “Yes sir. This Private needs to know his place, sir. Jam your hot cock all the way in balls deep.” This Kevin turned me on like crazy. He was so quiet and passive ordinarily, but became a dominant and dirty rutting beast sexually. It was such a turn on knowing I brought it out in him and that he loved it as much as I did and that his usual laid back relaxed personality could change so drastically into this dangerous animal. His answering growl sounded like a mix between a lion’s purr and a dog’s warning, long, low and filled with violent potential. I felt a thrilling jolt go straight to my dick and my shitter twitched. That sound made me want to get on my hands and knees and pull my sweats down to my thighs for him right then. Fucking hell. “I’m gonna pin you down and rail you so deep and hard your dick will squirt every time I fuck into you. I might have to tie you up while I use your hole so you can’t move or touch yourself. I’ll just bite down on your neck to keep you still. Fuck… I was on the verge of shooting in my pants. “I’ll do whatever you want, sir.” I said, taking shorter and shorter breaths. He chuckled. “Sounds like the little straight soldier boy is gonna cum in his pants. Do i need to smack you? You can’t control yourself? Just the thought of my hard throbbing meat wrecking your sweet hungry cunt makes you want to shoot? Maybe I need to yank and twist your nutsack before I smack you in your handsome face? “Fuck, Kev…Kev…shit…”. I barely yanked the front of my sweats down as my cock, with a fucking mind of its own, started spewing jizz all over the sidewalk. I didn’t even touch it. Fucking spurt after spurt in regular continuous jets like some cum dispenser filling jizz bottles at the hot nut factory in Ballcream, New Jersey. Goddamn. I was hoarsely grunting ‘I love you, I love you, you beautiful fucker, I love you so much. “Yeah, fuck, I’m gonna cum. Oh fuck….Jesus I want to fuck it into you so bad.” He was grunting and gasping over the phone right behind me. I flicked my dick with a shake to get the last drops of cum off before quickly pulling the waistband of my sweats back up. “I love it when you call me soldier boy.” I confessed in between deep breaths. Something about how he said it with both admiration and belittlement made my insides go all weak and fluttery. I was HIS soldier boy and belonging to him was a special type of thrill, but what escalated it into the realm of sexual heat was how he claimed me as his soldier boy because it turned him on. Like I was his favorite toy to play with. Holy shit he flipped my dick switch like no one else. “I’m coming to see you as soon as I can, baby.” “I can’t wait, babe.” He replied. “I love you, Tom. I can’t wait to kiss you again.” He said softly. He said the word ‘kiss’ just like he kissed me. Like The Kiss. That almost unmanned me into a weepy mess. His beautiful lips. There were so many things about him that I couldn’t put into any order of importance. His strong masculine jaw. His grey flannel eyes. His soft sensuous lips. His incredible long thick hair. That fucking comfortable meaty thick powerful body that was transformed into an athletic masterpiece that would take Michaelangelo to do it justice. Then there was his love for me. How he always made me feel like I was the center of his universe. His strength now both physical and emotional. With him behind me everything felt so easy. Life ahead was going to be so amazing with him. I felt everything inside me settle into a quiescent calm, like I had found an indisputable truth of self. This was it…this was not some place he took me when he pulled me in with his eyes, or his kiss, I didn’t have to go anywhere inside, didn’t need the place where there was no me to feel it. It was so easy, I just needed to open myself and accept that I was his. The distinction may seem minor, even irrelevant but at the bedrock foundation of my soul I would never be ‘ME’ without him. I suddenly saw us with a clarity that made my heart beat with joy and relief. Fuck, it was a brutal shock to realize my heart was so relieved that I finally connected the right dots in my traitorous head and now they were on the same page. What the fuck was I thinking the last 2 years? Oh God, I would never forgive my brain for that betrayal. I could have loved this beautiful man like he deserved since the day I met him. I could have saved him the pain and heartbreak I’d so cruelly caused both him and myself. My fucking brain was so shitty and selfish. “Tom?” Kevin asked, uncertainty filling his words. “You still there?” I didn’t realize I had been quiet so long. “Yeah. I just realized how much you mean to me, and how much time I wasted.” I said with a shaky voice. “You’re everything Kevin. I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you. I promise. I love you. I want every Kiss you have.” ************** WEEBLE The guy at the gym kept looking at him, which was fine and all, because the guy was pretty good looking, but Weeble was going to stick to his decision not to mess around with guys on post. And that time in the snow shelter in Germany, he wanted to head behind the curtain so bad but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. If he lost the respect of the Bravos he’d do whatever it took to get himself booted. There was just going to have to be a different set of rules for him than there was for others like Wanker or Puta. Besides, he didn’t know the guy. He couldn’t take the chance. Weeble focused on the rest of his workout and chose to mostly ignore the looks he was getting from the guy. As he was walking out the main door he felt someone running up behind him, so he didn’t release the door so it wouldn’t slam shut in the guy’s face. He glanced back. It was the guy who had been staring at him. “Thanks man.” He said to Weeble. Weeble gave him a smile, even though he didn’t feel like encouraging whatever the guy intended. It was probably nothing. “Sure.” He replied. “You stationed here?” The blonde asked while keeping up with Weeble who was continuing to walk. “Jump School. Hey look, I don’t got a lot of time, I gotta get back. Gotta clean the barracks.” He said trying to avoid whatever this was. The guy wasn’t taking the hint. “I’ll walk with you.” He was about 5’10”, maybe 160. Not a big guy, but he did have those squinty eyes and prominent nose Weeble found handsome. Even if he was more Weeble’s type with bigger muscles he wouldn’t have chanced it. “I’m gonna run. You know how Jump School is, run everywhere.” Weeble tried again. The guy’s smile dropped. “Yeah. See you around, I guess.” “Sure.” Weeble said just as he kicked up into run. He didn’t take a look behind him in his desire to avoid the awkward interaction. The run back was a great warm down from his workout and as he passed the last building before the barracks he felt pretty good. Maybe Assmunch, Sleeper and Zeus would be around. He’d been thinking during his workout that he could trust Andrew and if they had a minute he would tell him the other stuff. It would feel good to get it out. Assmunch didn’t seem like he had any problem with Wanker or Puta, he treated them just like he always had. He decided he would see what Assmunch said about telling the other guys and he could help him figure it out. For the first time in months he felt like he could really make it in the Army, and everything was going to be so much better. He did have cleaning to do before chow time but that would only take a couple hours. Now that all the randoms were gone who only came to Airborne for the achievement award the job of keeping up barracks discipline should be more evenly distributed. Petty Officer Lenger was the Alpha Company Leader for our group because he held the highest rank, but he seemed to defer to Lance Corporal Potter to actually keep the randoms in line. Potter mostly didn’t interfere with Assmunch handling the Bravos but he didn’t seem to have any problem being an asshole to the randoms to get their asses moving. During Ground Week he’d had to sort out a few attitudes for Lenger. Once the uncooperative ones got the message Potter and Battles were going to sabotage them at every turn which resulted in the Sergeants Airborne dosing out punishment of pushups or a run, or especially harsh training they began doing what was required. He actually saw Potter take a shit in one guy’s boot. Like he’d practiced it a hundred times he walked casually over to the guy’s bunk where he’d left his boots while he went to take a shower, dropped his pants, squatted, and dropped a steaming log perfectly aimed down the neck of the boot. The whole thing took about five seconds. That was one of the fun things about the military - holding your shit and learning how to take a fast dump when you finally had a small window of opportunity. Weeble thought it was super hilarious the way Potter smiled at the guy in the next bunk who was looking at him stunned. Potter just smiled and said ‘How’s it going?’ As if he was just sitting down to have a beer. Potter stood back up pulling his pants with him, snugged his belt and walked away. He liked Potter and Battles. He thought they were both super fine. And really nice guys once you got to know them. Potter didn’t care that everyone knew he did that, he wasn’t afraid the guy would have any way to get back at him and it did send a pretty strong message. First rule you learn as a fresh Boot - watch your stuff and if you can’t, have your buddy watch your stuff. Well, maybe not the first rule, Weeble thought, but definitely one of the important ones. Weeble was still silently laughing at the memory when he was blindsided from the left. He went down hard, bouncing in the dirt to the right of the sidewalk. Before he could recover, he had a knee on his neck. “Get the cuffs on him.” He heard. “Quick, before anyone comes.” Weeble tried to kick and stuggle, but the guy on his neck was using his full weight. He felt increased pressure bear down, choking off his air and blood as the guy leaned down. “You should have given it up willingly. I would have made sure you enjoyed it, been real nice about it.” He blacked out just after he felt the handcuffs click. He came to riding in the vehicle’s backseat. His two attackers were in the front. One of them was the guy from the gym. The other was in uniform and he could see an MP patch. “You got a good one this time Barnell.” The other guy said. “Yeah, he looks like a kid, fucking prime.” Weeble felt a wave of nausea wash over him. “Cuffs almost didn’t fit. Wish we had more time, I have duty at 1400. He awake yet?” Weeble closed his eyes. “Still out, but it won’t be long. Let’s use the maintenance shed over by the Armory. I can’t be gone long either.” It didn’t take much to connect the dots and Weeble felt a panic start to boil up. His hands were cuffed behind his back, the metal rings so tight it felt like they were cutting into his skin. He couldn’t see any way out of this. He was still trying to come up with a plan, maybe swing around and kick the driver in the head, force a crash, hope they were too out of it to stop him from getting away. Kick the back window out and try to get out before they could grab him? He’d have to go head first, probably land on his head jumping out and they were driving too fast for him to survive that without injury, especially on pavement. And even if he did, getting up to run away fast enough was not going to be possible with his hands cuffed. The vehicle stopped before he could come up with a good plan, and alongside the panic he felt a crushing sense of defeat. “Get the door open before we get him out.” Barnell said. In under a minute they pulled him from the vehicle. He struggled, trying to writhe out of their grasp, but Barnell gave him a hard knee to the face as he hung face down with Barnell’s arm hooked between his cuffed wrists and the other guy pinning his ankles together under his arm. The position was agonizing, almost pulling his shoulders out of their sockets above him. “Please don’t, guys. I won’t tell anyone, just let me go.” He pleaded, close to tears. “Maybe we’ll let you go when we’re done. Maybe we’ll just shoot you in the head and throw you into one of the craters on the artillery range and cover your body with a little dirt. You’ll end up in so many pieces no one will ever know what happened to you.” Barnell said calmly as he threw Weeble to the dusty concrete floor of the shed. The logical possibility sent a chilling cold throughout Weeble’s small frame. “I won’t tell. I won’t tell. I promise.” He sobbed, the tears bursting out beyond his control. “Please don’t kill me. Please.” He whimpered. Weeble didn’t want to die. He didn’t want this to be his last memory. “Jesus you’re such a fucking baby. You’re pathetic.” Barnell said, giving Weeble a heavy kick in the side. “Let’s do him like the last one. That shelf worked great.” Weeble saw the two clear a few items off the middle plywood shelf against the wall. The open shelving was made from lumber and plywood, three shelves high with the middle one being waist high. They picked him up and shoved him through the end of the shelf so his chest was down on the plywood and his legs were hanging off the end. His feet couldn’t touch the ground. Barnell yanked his wrists up and forced the cuffs over a hook that held a looped extension cord so his arms were suspended above and behind him. He felt his hands go numb. Then he felt his sweats pulled down to his thighs as Barnell exposed his ass. The other guy grabbed Weeble’s head and pulled it to the edge of the front of the shelf. “Open up. Suck Daddy’s dick.” The guy said as he unzipped and fished his already hard cock out of the fly of his BDU’s. Weeble couldn’t see any choice but to do exactly what they wanted so he opened up his lips for the 6 inch dick. “That’s a good boy. You be a good boy for Daddy and keep your teeth off it. If you’re a good boy Daddy will give you a delicious milkshake.” He felt Barnell pull his asscheeks apart and heard him hack up and spit a wad in the crack of his ass. Then he felt the head of Barnell’s dick swipe across the wetness before pressing against his hole. “Fuck, I hope he’s cherry.” Barnell said. “I love Grunt cherry. Legs here is gonna graduate from Jump On My Dick school today. Gonna get them red wings. You cherry Legs? Any of your buddies been up this pretty little boy hole?” Weeble couldn’t answer with the dick fucking in and out of his mouth. He didn’t know if he should. He didn’t know if Barnell really wanted him to answer. A knee crashing into his nuts made him pull off the dick in his mouth, yell out in pain and sob even more. “Fucking answer me you stupid fucking piece of shit!” “No!” He whimpered through his tears. Almost as soon as he said it the other guy forced his dick back in between his lips. “Hell yeah!” Barnell celebrated as he thrust his cock with full force up inside Weeble’s ass, balls deep on the first entry. Weeble yelled out again as a stabbing overwhelming pain radiated out from his asshole across his entire lower body. An involuntary seizure forced his muscles to cramp. “AHHH! NO! STOP! AHHHHHHHHHH PLEASE” Weeble pleaded. “Fuck yeah, buddy! Teach this little bitch how to be all he can be.” The guy at his head encouraged. “If he ain’t bleedin’ you ain’t tryin’. Get my dick back in your mouth bitch. Daddy ain’t done with you.” Barnell withdrew his dick completely, then punched it back in violently, sending another wave of excruciating pain through Weeble’s body. The other guy was holding Weeble’s head now in a strong grip, fucking his mouth with equally violent thrusts that were stabbing the back of Weeble’s throat. Weeble choked in a long gag and the guy yanked his dick out and stepped back suddenly just as Weeble vomited his breakfast. “Fuck, I love that part. Like I made him cum from his throat. So fucking hot.” The guy said, stepping carefully around the pool of vomit on the floor. Some of it never made it beyond the plywood shelf, and he grabbed Weeble’s head again and slid his face into the puke so his mouth was off the edge. “Daddy’s gonna make you cum again, little boy.” He said as he pushed his dick back in. Barnell was still stabbing with his dick, busting through Weeble’s bloody ring over and over again, grunting with effort and mumbling “hot little boy hole.” Over and over again. Weeble was lost in the pain and torture. The dick in his mouth forced up several volleys of putrid vomit, and each time the guy stepped back to watch it spew until Weeble only had dry heaves left. The guy didn’t pull out after that, watching Weeble’s tiny trapped body jerk with every empty choking gag. The amount of tears a man can cry is infinite and never ending. One tear for every interminable mile you fall down into the hole of despair that swallows the spark of your soul and smothers it with a darkness so black it eats the happiness that sustains you. Even the worst pain refuses to follow a man into that well of empty nothingness. Weeble went away.

Oh yes! I really love the Tom bits! The description of the slow torture of pleasure that Tom seems to enjoy just as much as the rough hard brutal fucks… yeah… Tom is perfect, absolutely perfect. And Hannes seems bent on taking Tom to his limits. I love this scene so much. I could see Tom’s meaty butt as Hannes pulled him off the end of the bed. Well done! And Hannes is a better man than me because I would have taken that ass right then. I also love Max’s developing friendship with the Dowager, it’s unexpected and hopefully provides Max with a focus other than Prince’s Consort. It’s heartwarming how comfortable Alex and Max are together.

I’m glad that part made you smile. Weeble is kinda awesome, he needs to know he is. One of the best qualities of leadership is seeing opportunities for growth in every situation you can, even the most unfortunate situation. Assmunch does it naturally because he wants everyone to be better. If he thought Weeble was going to get his ass kicked, he might have taken the guy out himself, but before he did he would have let Weeble try. Then the celebration on the bus would have been about how Weeble took a beating but still kept fighting, which Assmunch would have explained demonstrated that Weeble was as tough as any of the other Bravos. And instead of feeling bad about getting his ass kicked, Weeble would have felt like he made it through a gauntlet, and a rite of passage as a man. That’s just how Assmunch sees things. I love writing Assmunch chapters so much.

ZEUS & WEEBLE Victor reminded him of George, his boyhood friend from so long ago. It was hard for Gabriel to judge the smaller guys when he looked down from so far above. A difference of a couple inches, or ten to fifteen pounds all looked the same on their tiny bodies. But one thing was always the same - that eagerness to prove themselves so that everyone else would think of them as one of the guys. George was good at that. When Gabriel would watch him longingly after their friendship ended he saw George fit in easily with a couple of the other guys at school. That made him both happy, and sad. Victor had almost exactly the same way of smiling no matter what it was. Victor always made sure to let the guys know how great they were doing, how strong, how fast, how proficient. He knew the best compliments to give. And he was ready to lend a hand no matter what the task or duty was. He volunteered more than anyone else. Some of the Bravos were reluctant, would grumble or try to trade off the duty Andrew told them to do. Victor never did and seemed happy to do anything. Gabriel hated to watch him struggle and had to stop himself from helping Victor all the time. Andrew had quietly talked to the rest of the Bravos and told them to only give Victor a hand if it looked like he couldn’t do something, and to let him try first. He said Victor needed to be proud of what he could do, and the more he could tackle himself the better off he would be. Andrew was pretty smart. He wanted Victor to know he would watch out for him by putting his arm over his shoulder. He was so little. Gabriel could fit his entire shoulder from neck to outside in his hand. Victor scooted closer to him when he did that and he squeezed his hand, being very careful to do it gently. They followed Andrew out the barracks exit to the area with the tables and benches where the other soldiers liked to smoke their cigarettes. There were five tables there, plenty of room to give some distance. Zeus noticed the others never bothered or tried to intrude upon the Bravos if there were more than two of them together. “Let’s sit here.” Andrew said, indicating the furthest table from the door. The yellow-orange glow of the sodium area lights above painted everything in brightness and shadows.Victor sat down and Addison went to go sit by Andrew across the table. Addison belonged next to Andrew, they were a team. Gabriel couldn’t fit easily between the bench and the table, so he straddled the bench with Victor on the bench to the side. “You want to tell me what’s going on with you, buddy?” Andrew asked. Gabriel loved the way Andrew always said it straight out but never accused or pried. Gabriel suspected Andrew had already figured out why Victor was acting different, that’s what Andrew was good at. And he was good at letting you say it yourself. Victor looked down at the table. Gabriel could see his hands between his nervously bouncing legs clasping and moving apart, his fingers dancing with anxious energy. Addison and Andrew couldn’t see that. Gabriel didn’t really know why, but it seemed the right thing to do when he moved forward and put his arm around Victor and snuggled up to his small body. “It’s okay Victor. You can trust Andrew. He’s not mean. And Addison isn’t mean either. They are really good.” He said softly down at Victor’s head. “They helped me and they will help you.” Gabriel felt Victor’s small body tremble. Was he afraid? “Don’t be afraid, Victor.” Gabriel tried to think of what Andrew would say. Both Sleeper and Andrew were just watching, silent. Gabriel liked how they could do that. They probably didn’t know that waiting was a bigger help than saying anything most of the time. And he didn’t know why he felt like Victor needed him but that’s the feeling he got. Or maybe it was that Victor needed all of them, he was just closest. Well, he could do that. He could do it because he didn’t do it for George. His only friend. But now he had Andrew and Addison. And he suddenly realized he could have as many friends as he wanted. ********** Victor didn’t want to look at these big guys, and suddenly he felt even more like an imposter. What was he doin here? Guys like them belonged here, not him. They were men, he was just a boy. And gay, which the Army absolutely said don’t belong here neither. His previous hopes of being straightened out by the military now struck him as laughably foolish. All he’d done was put himself into a situation where he had constant temptation and torture. He was 20 years old now and this dumb experiment proved everythin except what he wanted to happen. Two years and he didn’t feel any different. Well, except he’d learned not to swallow all the dicks. He supposed that was worth somethin, anyway. “Victor? C’mon man.” Sleeper said gently. “You have that look again. What are you thinking about?” It was time to stop pretendin. Besides, they’d see it all eventually if they hadn’t already so what was the use of tryin to hide it? It was pretty damn clear it was only a matter of time before things played out exactly like they had in the 128th back at Bragg. “I don’t belong here. At least not like you guys do.” Victor finally said. Assmunch and Sleeper both had the decency to look confused. That was nice of them to pretend like that. Sleeper jumped in before Assmunch. “You’re a Bravo, our brother Weeble. You sure as shit belong here.” Assmunch nodded. “That’s right. But why do you feel like you don’t?” Victor took a deep breath. It could be worse, he supposed. At least he was doing this on his own terms and gettin ahead of it before he messed up during some critical mission or operation. “That’s nice of you to say and all, but look at me. It takes so much more effort for me to do the same things you guys do. I struggle every day doin stuff you guys find easy. And what am I gonna do in any kind of direct engagement or combat? I’m only gonna get someone killed because I can’t keep up.” Assmunch snorted. “You keep up just fine, Weeble. None of us worry about you anymore. Yeah, when you first started it was pretty rough. But you weren’t any different than Wanker or Holler. Hell, even Chunk was struggling until he dropped that weight he brought with him when he came to Germany. Maybe you were too wrapped up in struggling to keep up to notice the others around you, but you weren’t the only one. Now, you do great.” “But I don’t feel like it. All you guys slow down so I can keep up. You always end up helpin me in some way. Nothin’s changed, I’m still not good at this stuff like you guys are.” Victor explained. Now that he started, he was feeling more confident that he was right. “I’m just holdin the Bravos back.” Assmunch shook his head. “Ah. So you’re feeling sorry for yourself. You think the rest of us find this stuff easy. We don’t slow down for you, Victor, we push you to keep up with us, and you do. Sleeper, how’d you do on last year’s M4 qualification?” Sleeper shrugged. “29. Not awesome.” “32 for me.” Assmunch said. “What about navigation?” “Ugh. Barely. I have the simple stuff down, but without Zeus and Cellblock with me in the forest in Germany I’d have led the guys to a cold death in that storm.” Assmunch nodded. “I’m better, but nowhere near as good as Zeus or Bootlicker. And what did Sleeper do in the forest? Sleeper got Zeus and Cellblock to help him. But we all know you qualified with a 37 on the M4, and your navigation and map reading is better than 80 percent of us. I could keep going but being able to ruck 40 pounds for 6 miles isn’t the only test of whether you belong here, Victor. Every single one of us depend on our brothers to give us a little help. That’s what brothers do. You’re our brother so we help you too. And don’t forget you didn’t start out as Infantry, so you’re having to catch up to a lot of us with the physical stuff.” “It feels like I won’t ever catch up. And you guys are talkin about Ranger School. There’s no way I’m gonna survive.” “Yes you will. You haven’t given up so far, and all of this has been really difficult. Why would you give up now?” Assmunch asked. Victor took a breath. “I guess I’m not givin up, exactly. I don’t wanna quit, and I don’t wanna stop bein a Bravo. You guys are totally nice to me, like…all of you. I guess I feel like if I can’t be like you guys and keep up by myself then I’m not really one of you. I feel like I’m pretendin’ to be a man. It sounds so stupid.” Assmunch’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “A man? Victor, you ARE a man. You aren’t pretending. Do you think even half the guys you went to high school with could do what you do now?” He paused. “Oh fuck, I know what you need.” “What are you thinking, Assmunch?” Sleeper asked. “Well, you all need it I think. Maybe I’m not doing the brothers any favors by keeping our noses to the grindstone and staying focused. You all need a reminder of who the fuck you are and how far you’ve come. We’ve been stuck behind Army walls for the last 8 months. It’s easy to lose sight of what all this means and I realized something when I went home. I want you guys to realize it too. We’re going off post Saturday.” *********** ASSMUNCH We finally got through Tower Week and while it seemed to go by quick, it also felt like we learned a thousand skills, terms, and details. We were kept running from location to location, listening in class, demonstrating what we were taught and of course jumping from taller and taller towers. We didn’t jump from the 250 foot tower, we were lifted up with a fully deployed parachute canopy and dropped, so you could learn to use the slips to guide your descent, and get a sense for how to hit the ground. It was way quicker than you expected. After a while, the height doesn’t even register and I have to say I don’t have any idea when I stopped thinking about that harness snapping into my groin but fuck I was relieved it wasn’t as punishing anymore. Not as punishing, but still not non-existent. You don’t stop moving or doing tasks from 0430 until 1800 after evening chow. And even after you were released it was study time because at any time while you were on the course a Black Hat could ask you to show and tell anything you’d been taught up until then. ‘What’s the donning procedure for the Harness Assembly?’; ‘Name 3 differences between the T-10C and the MC1-1B Canopy’; ‘demonstrate the 4000-count Exit Position’; ‘what are the 9 points of adjustment on the parachute harness’? They could tell at a glance who knew what they were doing, who made a mistake, and who was fucking off. It was their job to spot the slackers or those who were unprepared just as much as it was to instruct us and keep us from killing ourselves. Their duty was to make absolutely sure any unprepared soldier never made it on a plane for Jump Week. They didn’t yell if you got it wrong, they simply pointed out your mistake and instructed you on the right answer. I guess, for just this one thing, the Army figured fear and terror wasn’t a good motivator. Check back with me later in my career, there might be other things too, but right now, it was refreshing not to have a mistake shoved into your face. At this point, just about all the dead weight had dropped or been booted. All we had left to do was Jump Week, when we got to do five actual jumps from a C130 or C17. That was what this was all about…qualifying on your actual jumps. But, as we’d learned this week, way too many things could go wrong. Some were things you had to be prepared for - landing in a tree, water, power lines… a fucking building or structure of some kind. Others were malfunctions like your main parachute failing to deploy, lines getting twisted, descending into another paratrooper during descent. And then there were the mistakes. I don’t even want to think about those. If you were lucky, you’d only end up in a hospital for 8 weeks and physical therapy for 6 months after that. I’d told the guys we were going to enjoy our Saturday night out, but that morning at 0930 I grabbed Zeus to go around with me and talk to each brother individually to clear up anything they weren’t sure about, and to judge where they were having trouble. I was really proud of all of them, at how seriously they took the training and how they helped each other in between giving out heaping portions of ridicule and shit. What else were brothers for, right? I’d also had a quiet word with everyone about making Weeble feel even more included. Here’s the thing with Weeble: we weren’t doing him any favors by treating him like he needed our help. I don’t know where the good middle ground was but we didn’t need to treat him like he was one step away from failing all the time. After our talk Tuesday night I realized what I told him was true - he’d come a long way and he wasn’t the same soldier who seemed so inept when he first got to Germany. He’d grown, and we needed to grow with him. We’d fallen into a habit of watching out for him and he wasn’t fooled that it was for any other reason than he was the smallest. Sure, he needed the help way back then. But now he was 100% Infantry and we all needed to treat him no different than we’d treat any of the others. Just not like we treated Bootlicker because it literally took the whole Platoon to squeeze his ego and his brain into normal people size. Well, we were here to keep his ass grounded and we made sure he knew it. But Weeble? It was past time he stopped being the smallest brother, and became a brother in reality. My sessions with the Major were already showing benefits in all sorts of ways. I felt more centered, more focused and more aware. I did better on our morning runs, now up to 4 miles, and in morning PT. Of course, our morning runs weren’t a race because they wanted you to maintain a steady pace. You had a minimum completion time and a max. Still, the Bravos and any of the randoms who had an actual physical MOS felt 4 miles was a joke. I actually used the run time to meditate. I’ll go into detail some other time, but running was already a pretty mindless activity and with a group it became even more mindless because you had bodies around you that guided your path and pace. Benning ran a bus to town for the convenience of the soldiers in the Airborne Course, as well as those who were on temporary duty or assignment and had no personal transportation. We couldn’t stay out late if we wanted to catch the bus back, but that was okay. 2330 was the last bus which was fine because I didn’t want the Platoon to have a wild night. We could also get a cab if we wanted. Back then all the MP’s needed was your name and assignment to let a cab on post to pick you up. And the cab drivers who had the area around the base were pretty well known by the MP’s at the gate. Most of us couldn’t drink because Georgia’s legal drinking age was 21 so I didn’t think we’d be up for staying out too late anyway. In the afternoon we all went to the PX because more than a few of the guys realized their favorite shirt didn’t fit anymore or they wanted something new to look good in. We didn’t wear our civvies very often. I think my plan to get them to realize we were set apart from civilians was going to work pretty well, it was a strange feeling for way too many of the brothers to dress civilian. Combat boots walk a whole lot different than Nike Airs or Converse High Tops. Dimples was going to wear his boots but we told him not to be an idiot. I guess he thought he was going to impress some girl with his boots. Dimples wasn’t too bright. We had Potter take a picture of us with Wanker’s Canon 35mm and we made Wanker promise to get us all a copy of the print. That photo would become one of my most precious possessions in the years that followed. “What the fuck are you fucking around for? Let’s GO!” Demon cajoled with a hyper energy we all felt. Demon hated sitting still or waiting. “Troll…” Cellblock said. “Yeah yeah, I got him.” Troll replied. Troll was actually one of the ones we were waiting for. He rarely sped up or was in a rush. “The bus won’t be back for another 15 minutes Demon. Settle down. Besides, it’s 1930, we’re going to get to an empty bar and be jacking off with each other until the crowd gets there later. We’re not missing anything.” “Yeah, but it’s not HERE. Come on, Come on!” Demon refused to be calmed. He wasn’t feeling anything the rest of us didn’t feel. “Did everyone get enough cash this afternoon?” I asked. That was another thing that felt slightly off, carrying a wallet with money and I.D. It was different than being on duty somewhere that you needed it versus a physical training course. You didn’t carry your wallet during training because not only did you have no use for money, everything in your wallet would probably get ruined with sweat, water, dirt, mud or any number of other things and a lump in your pocket got in the way more often than not. At Airborne, all you needed was your I.D. and meal card during duty hours so those were the only items you kept on you. Of course we invited Potter, Battles and Lenger. They’d asked around and heard of a bar uptown that allowed under 21. I have no idea why they hitched to us for our night out when they were all a few years older and didn’t have to hang out with young Army Privates but I guess they had their reasons. We got lucky with a bus that was almost empty so we could all get on as a group and the cheap, basic nature of the white vehicle made me smile because like everything Army it was built for utility not comfort and reminded me of a school bus. The guys were totally hyped and I felt a little bad for the six other passengers who had to endure the rowdiness of 32 twenty year old soldiers on their first night out in 7 months. The night was chilly and I was mesmerized by the yellow/orange sodium streetlights making pools of light in the darkness as we passed close to buildings. In between, the Army let the darkness rule. As a training base, there was the occasional bit of foot traffic on the sidewalks as soldiers went to various Saturday night activities the base provided like the movie theater, bowling alley, gym, rec center, or even just going to hang out with someone they knew or just met. “Did you always want to be a Corpsman, Lenger?” I made sure to pronounce it correctly as Len-jer as he’d pointed out last week, turning to look at the Petty Officer. Zeus was sharing a seat with Potter, Sleeper was next to Battles, and I shared with Lenger. Potter and Battles were never far from Zeus and Sleeper. Although all the branches had their rivalries and you always believed your branch was the best, it just felt like Marines went with Army, and Navy went with Air Force. Navy and Air Force utilized machines to wage war and fight. The Marines and Army… well, we WERE machines. We were the boots on the ground. We led the charge, went in, looked the enemy in the eye and ruled the battlefield. We had a mutual respect between our branches even if we argued over who did it best. I admired how the Marines bred toughness and competence. But I admit to being a little puzzled why the Corpsman seemed joined at the hip with Battles and Potter. Lenger shrugged and nodded. “Free medical school? Fuck yeah. I don’t have to shoot someone in the head every day? Fuck yeah. I don’t have to dodge shells, bullets and mortars? No brainer. I don’t have to crawl around in mud with you bastards? Oh hell yeah.” He laughed. I couldn’t argue with that, but he wasn’t done. “Seriously though, I like fixing people and my parents don’t have enough money to send me to college and medical school. Never thought I’d be jumping out of a fucking plane though. I still don’t know why I signed up for the Airborne Course. They told me it would qualify me for an overseas station and I’d move to the short list. You know how it is, every bit of extra training moves your file to a better desk.” I could understand that. Getting stationed OCONUS (Outside the Continental US) was a hope most enlistees had. The military and crafty recruiters really sold the whole exotic adventure angle of enlisting because they knew it would seal the deal and get that signature. But like everything military there were no guarantees or promises and they held that carrot out in front of soldiers to incentivize training and performance. If there was one thing the military was good at it was offering incentive. Offering. Delivering, well not so much unless you constantly qualified at training and performance. I could only speak for the Army, but foregoing competence for political advancement eroded any trust the ranks might have in you. And there were plenty of those types - the ones who kissed ass and climbed by stepping on those around them. “Yeah, but you just have to get on a ship to go around the world.” I replied. Lenger’s face scrunched. “Nah. Boats aren’t for me.” I laughed. He grinned. I think he knew what I was going to say before I even said it. “You joined the Navy and you don’t like boats?” “See? You mud crawlers never understand. I’m fine with the sea, ships, all that. I just don’t want to be on one for six months and bunk three high, hop through hatches all day, ask for permission to go topside to see the sky once a day. I guess the worst part is you’re never alone and it’s never quiet. Some guys like that part of it. I don’t. It’s always close quarters on a boat. I did my stretch, never want to do that again.” He explained. I nodded. I wouldn’t like that either. It did make me wonder if the Navy had anything like an Infantry Platoon where you became brothers and stopped minding having them around all the time. “You have to be an Officer to be a doctor right?” I didn’t know that for sure, but it made sense. “Yeah, which is another reason I asked for shore duty. I need to finish school, get my degree. Then I get a commission and can go to Medical School. Potter was saying you hoped to get your Ranger tab?” “Not just the tab, Sleeper, Zeus and I want to be Rangers.” I answered. “Maybe a few of the other Bravos too. I haven’t asked them.” Lenger looked at me. “What about Officer? Any plans to get a Commission?” I shrugged. “Not sure. I don’t know if I’m Officer material. That’s a whole different world up there.” “Dude, you’re absolutely Officer material. I see the way you handle your guys. But the most revealing part is how they follow you. I have to be honest, Potter, Battles and I all wish you could tell us how you do that. You’re what? 19? 20? You don’t yell, you don’t give orders… you just tell them what you want and they get it done. Hell, they don’t even argue which I have to say just shatters my entire preconceived notions of Grunts.” That made me laugh. “Oh, we’re still Grunts. All of us certifiably dumb enough to pull a trigger. I don’t know, man. These guys are my brothers. I feel responsible for them. I want all of us to do well, be our best. We’re at our strongest when everyone pulls together so that’s always been my goal. I don’t give orders because I don’t have to make them do stuff. They’ve never let me down, so I won’t let them down.” Lenger nodded. “Yeah, definitely Officer material.” “I guess I had some good Sergeants and El Tees as examples.” I said. “My dad had a lot to do with it too. I just try to behave the way he said I should.” The bus passed through the security gate and we were suddenly on civilian soil. I know I was imagining it, but the air felt different. The curbs weren’t as crisp, the land alongside the road seemed wild and ignored. The businesses appeared a bit shabby. I don’t think civilians understood how every detail on a military base was organized, purposeful, directed, overseen, and inspected. Sure, civilian contractors were employed to manage the maintenance and upkeep of just about everything with a few important exceptions but God help whatever Officer commanded base operations if the grass wasn’t mowed or there was anything sloppy on the grounds. If a full bird or a two star saw that shit someone was getting a directive. Which meant the civilian contractors would have a military escort while they did their work for a week. Just passing through the gate felt like you entered a different world. The civilian world was wild, unmanaged, disordered, chaotic. Even the buildings were irregular without any sort of plan to their arrangement. The military functioned on order. I knew the brotherhood were noticing the view out the bus windows when it got quiet. Sure, they didn’t know why yet, but this was the feeling I wanted them to understand. We were different. We weren’t part of that world. We were something more. We could visit this world for a time, but we belonged in the Army world. Eventually we might manage to strike a balance like my Dad did, but the ways we were molded by the Army would never leave us. After a few stops, Potter announced our destination was coming up. “Time to LET LOOSE BRAVOS!” Demon shouted. Oh holy fucking hell… the last thing we needed was Demon off his leash. I wasn’t going to herd him, or any of the brothers. That would defeat the purpose of the exercise. If chips were going to fall, they’d do it without my control. “God help us.” Lenger muttered. I snorted. “Whatever happens tonight, at least it’ll make a great story to tell the Squids, right? Besides, I heard Fleet Week sets a high bar.” He laughed. “Touché. I can’t fucking wait!” And that made me laugh too. *********** The bar was empty. Everyone that was under 21 got a stamp on their hand in some kind of invisible ink that only showed up under a black light. Well, except for the Marines and Lenger because they were all a few years older. But it was a nice bar, and because we’d gotten there before 2200, we didn’t have to pay cover. Bonus. There were a few different areas with a bar in each one. I was looking forward to seeing the entertainment that the dance floor would provide. As you walked in there was a large area with two pool tables, a couple dart boards and a pinball machine. Around the corner was a sort of lounge area with a few high top tables and another small bar. The dance floor was through a wide doorway and up a couple steps. Off to the side of the dance floor was the largest bar. Potter had chosen well. Just judging by the size of this place, it was going to get really busy in a couple hours. I hoped there would be a lot of women. Not for me, Kevin was the only one on my mind, but even if they didn’t score I wanted the guys to remember what it was like to just have a good time. We soon got into Take The Table pool games while we passed the time until the bar filled up. Weeble surprised us all. He kept the table for over an hour, killing everyone who challenged him. “Fuck dude…you’re so lucky!” Shark said after the second time he lost in the rotation, watching Weeble sink the 8 ball in his called pocket. Weeble shrugged. “You played really good Shark. That 6 ball bank shot was amazing!” Shark scowled. “You had easier shots. Every time I had to shoot the cue ball was buried.” I watched Weeble as he smiled at Shark’s disgruntled comment. “But you still sunk five of yours with harder shots, Shark! You’re a good pool player.” I didn’t know a lot about pool, but it couldn’t be a coincidence that every time Weeble had a difficult shot and he missed the cue ball ended up in the worst spot for Shark. Over the course of the hour I watched Weeble hit shot after shot and leave the cue ball in almost perfect alignment for the ball he shot next. I felt goosebumps up my spine. Weeble knew what he was doing. He wasn’t going to lose unless he wanted to lose. I grinned when I also realized he was hiding how good he actually was. By this time the bar had started filling with both locals and military from the base. There was a group of four country boys watching the pool tables who looked like good ole boys. The way they were leaning in to talk to each other over the loud music signaled they were hatching some plan as they commented to each other about Weeble’s shots. Weeble kept looking over at them a little too regularly for me to think he wasn’t clued in to what they were planning. So I went up to him as Cellblock racked the balls. I leaned in to talk in Weeble’s ear while he chalked his cue. “I think those four want a piece of you.” I said. Weeble shot me a shocked look. “What do you mean, Assmunch?” I glanced at the country boys real quick. “They’ve been watching you play. They’re hatching some plan.” Weeble looked nervous. “Like what? Assmunch, don’t leave.” Huh? Why was he so worried? He could beat these backwoods country fuckers without looking. I could tell just by looking at them they thought they were the shit, some lucky prize for some unlucky girl who had the misfortune to swallow the drinks they’d ply her with before carrying her blasted ass out the door. They’d probably just fuck her drunk in the backseat of their truck and leave her in the parking lot without her panties to find her barely conscious way home. I knew the look, knew their type. They had all of Sleeper’s arrogance without his kindness. His swagger without his humility. And nowhere near his looks. Sure they were four good looking guys, decently built but nothing remarkable next to the guys in the Bravos. And they were going to be really sad…so sad, when the girls saw them in the same room with Sleeper and Zeus. They’d be lucky if there was enough alcohol in the entire bar to make the women forget about Sleeper and Zeus. “Hey black boy! We gonna take next.” The tallest asshole called out just as Cellblock finished snugging the 8 ball into the center of the rack and rolling it forward over the set spot on the green felt. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck spike. Cellblock looked at me. I gave him an angry look back and shifted my head sideways. However he wanted this to go, I was behind him. He looked a little defeated and I suddenly felt both anger and sadness. How the fuck was this 1993 and this fucking bullshit still happened? I got up off my stool and was just about to intercede when Potter walked up. I swear to FUCKING God this FUCKING Jarhead had the most horrible timing. “Hey Assmunch, I got you a drink. Pour it in your virgin glass. Here’s an empty for what you’re drinking now.” He handed me the empty. The bar had clear glasses for the alcohol drinkers and red plastic cups for the underage patrons. Once again, my initial impression did the Lance Corporal a huge disservice. As I poured my plain coke into the empty and swapped it with whatever alcoholic beverage Potter had selected for me I mentally apologized to whatever God the Marines worshiped. Potter had been nothing but a complete brother. “We’re about to have a problem, Marine.” I said. “These fucking rednecks just called Cellblock a black boy and took the next game.” “Hoo-rah, time to stack some bodies.” Potter flexed his impressive body and gave an evil smile. Yeah, that was the last time I’d doubt Potter. And actually, it was the last time I doubted any Marine the entire time I served. I looked at Cellblock with a similar grin, but was surprised when he shook his head surreptitiously with a serious, frightened look. I was going to need a talk with him for whatever that was about. Bravos don’t back down. I learned later that Georgia still had a reputation with black people for continuing the worst racial abuses imaginable. Cellblock explained it using terms like ‘uppity niggers’ and ‘teach them to know their place.’ I remember the shock I felt at that. I mean, I wasn’t completely clueless, I knew subtle racism was still around. But this was like something out of the 1950’s. “Sure guys!” Cellblock said, turning around with a smile. “I’ve already played a couple times. You can play Victor.” Totally and completely out of character for Cellblock, to be so effusive and servile. I might be crazy, but it almost sounded like he tried to sound more … fuck… more white. Cellblock sounded nothing like that usually. He was more rough around the edges intelligent, direct, even challenging. And ‘Sure guys!’ From his mouth just hit wrong…It should have been ‘Aight’ or better yet ‘fuck yo white ass’. “Damn straight. Luke, you want first?” The biggest of the pack said to the skinny redhead of the group. Tall and lanky, Luke stiffened up like he held the entire white race on his shoulders. Poor Weeble had a deer-in-the-headlights look on his face. I walked up to Weeble and whispered in his ear. “They shit on Cellblock. Teach them you don’t fuck with the Bravos.” He looked at me, and I kept his gaze until his eyes hardened to match my own. “Twenty to play on my table.” The lead redneck said, throwing a bill down on the table edge. He seemed confident that his redheaded buddy had some skill. Oh, now… this fucking backwoods piece of racist shit was already counting his paycheck. Well, even though I’d never seen the redhead play, there was no way I was going to leave Weeble out to dry. “Just $20? I guess you’re afraid or don’t know the price. Victor’s table costs $60. It’s cool if you can’t afford it.” I had confidence in Weeble, I had been watching how he planned every shot. There was no way this small town fucking bar table idiot could outplay my brother. And even if Weeble lost, we’d walk away and forget about these fuckers. $60 was worth it to walk away from garbage like this. The redneck posse huddled in a nervous, fervent conversation. Lead redneck… hell, let’s just call him the Grand Dragon, because it was highly likely his Uncle-dad-Grandfather ran the local Klan chapter… angrily gestured his three buddies into silence and I chuckled when he held out his hand and they deposited three $20 bills. This fucker…. Wow… I saw no indication of how huge his fucking balls had to be because the front of his tight jeans were completely flat. He’d bet money he didn’t even have. Wow… Maybe Bootlicker could take lessons from this fuckwad. I squeezed Weeble’s shoulder, and leaned in. “Take it all, brother. Let’s make the boys some money. If you feel good about it, slack off and make it seem like you’re just getting lucky. Let’s milk these assholes for every dollar they got paid working at the hog farm.” Weeble grinned. “I can do it.” He said. I took out the whole sixty bucks I’d gotten for the night from my wallet and handed it to Potter. I only expected to actually spend maybe $20, but I wanted to have enough to cover someone else if they needed it. “Get their $60, bud.” Potter went over to the Klan and held out his hand. “Fuck you! We ain’t lettin’ one of your buddies hold the money.” Grand Dragon spat. I raised my eyebrows and smiled. “My buddy’s a Marine. Are you saying that Marine doesn’t have honor?” Well that hit a nerve, but let’s be honest here, Potter may not be Sleeper’s size, but he was still jacked and there was no mistaking he could kick some serious ass. The Grand Dragon had at least half a brain because he handed his sixty to Potter. And of course Potter did the honorable thing and stood off to the side visibly holding the game purse so that no one had any cause to start an argument. “Victor, it’s your table, go ahead and break.” I said, nodding to Weeble. “Bar rules, no slop, call your shot and contact with the opponent’s ball first loses your turn. Clean shot on the 8 ball to win.” I announced. “Multiple balls sunk on the break is breaker’s choice. Scratch is cue ball behind the line.” Standard shit, but I wasn’t going to let them have any room to cheat. I already knew they would if given half a chance. “That’s right. Break ‘em midget.” Grand Dragon sneered. It was going to take everything I had not to force his teeth down his worthless throat with my fist. I signaled to Cellblock to come stand beside me. There was a certain amount of smack talking expected, but country cousin-fucker over there was way over the line. ‘Trust Weeble.’ I told myself and took a deep breath. I automatically fell into Major Collins’ lesson and the calm descended. I reached out and grabbed Cellblock’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. He looked at me and I gave him a smile. “Weeble’s going to get you some payback, brother. Just watch.” And it was a work of art. Weeble could have taken the win without ever letting the lanky redhead have a shot, but he played it sly and sneaky. He missed shots I knew he could make and somehow left the redhead with no clear shot. Weeble attempted to sink his 2 ball and instead nudged Redhead’s 9 ball right in front of the pocket. And Redhead was a bull in a china shop on the felt, slamming the cue ball and sending it spinning around the table into other balls even when he made his shot. There was no finesse, no strategy, no positioning like Weeble orchestrated. Redhead was the sort that believe power demonstrated skill so he hit the cue ball hard, every time. Unless you’d seen Weeble’s hour long run before the Klan showed up it absolutely looked like he was outmatched. The best part of it was how frustrated Redhead got when Weeble never left him a clear shot to any of his balls, even though Weeble refused to sink any of his own. I had a hard time not laughing at how Weeble was making it seem like he was the absolute worst player ever to play while at the same time frustrating Redhead so much he couldn’t stop whining. Finally, it was down to Redhead having a half table rail shot on the 11 ball, while Weeble still had his 5, 1 and 6 ball scattered over the table. At a casual glance, it looked like Weeble was going to lose. Except there was no shot on the 8 without it contacting Weeble’s 1 ball by the corner pocket. Even if Redhead made his 11, which I seriously doubted he had the skill to both sink a rail shot AND line up for the 8, he was never going to be able to get past Weeble’s 1. Of course Redhead missed his rail shot on the 11, but he did position it near the corner pocket for his next shot. It was a thing of beauty how Weeble ran the game without making it look like he knew what he was doing all along. I leaned into Cellblock. “You’re going to want to get the guys. Weeble is going to empty these fucker’s pockets, and I want them to see it.” Cellblock grinned and darted off into the depths of the bar. I crossed my arms and put my best Sarge’s scowl on my face as Weeble lined up for his shot on the 1, his last ball. He struck the cue ball so gently I felt my stomach clench. There was no way it was going to hit with enough force to roll the 1 into the pocket. “Hah! The little midget don’t have the strength. He’s all tired out.” Grand Dragon laughed. But damned if that cue ball didn’t kiss the 1 just enough to ease it behind the 8 ball and move it towards the pocket. “It hit the 8! I saw it hit the 8!” Grand Dragon was already celebrating. If the 1 ball fell, Weeble would lose his turn based on slop and Redhead would have a clean shot on the 8 for the win. Of course the 1 never touched the 8. But that wasn’t going to matter. Grand Dragon was going to cheat so he didn’t lose his $60. I watched the 1 ball trickle towards the pocket. And it stopped, blocking the 8. I had a whole new appreciation for Weeble in that moment. He knew. He knew there would be bullshit. He never wanted that 1 ball to fall. And the cue ball barely moved off the rail. Weeble set it all up. I watched him turn to me and smile that fucking bright happy smile of his. This was the Weeble I wanted to see all the time. The brothers were filtering in to stand watching around the periphery as Redhead tried to line up on the 11 but the cue ball was too close to the rail to get a clean hit. He totally scuffed it but somehow managed to send the cue ball in the general direction of the 11 ball which was all it took because it was just a couple inches from the pocket. Redhead was no true pool player, or he would have missed so that Weeble was left with an impossible shot. Instead, Redhead was going to lose the game without Weeble having to do a thing. After the 8 ball fell Potter handed the $120 to Weeble with a smile. The guys were all congratulating Weeble and he looked like he won the lottery. “You’re not done, midget.” Grand Dragon shouted. “You got real lucky, but you gotta play me now. Double or nothin.” I stepped forward. “We just came out to have some fun tonight. I think we’re done playing pool. Table’s yours.” I said. “You can leave. But the midget is going to play me.” I looked around dramatically. “Play all the midgets you want, Sparky. I don’t see any here, but knock yourself out in that fantasy world you got going on.” I turned around to walk back to the guys and something told me he wasn’t going to let me go. I trusted the feeling I had and half turned to see his hand extended to either grab me or push me. It didn’t matter which. “If you still want to finger fuck your sister later with that hand you need to get it the fuck away from me, dickhead.” I growled. Okay, so that was probably the wrong way to de-escalate this, but c’mon… I was working with a fucking cave-man here. What else was going to get through his Neanderthal skull? If there’s one kind of guy I knew all about, it was this small town fucking cow turd has-been high school hero. It would be my distinct pleasure to dismantle this racist piece of ignorant shit one vital organ at a time until he cried blood. “Let’s step outside and say that again, asshole.” Grand Dragon blustered. I blinked. Points for stupidity and an utter lack of awareness. Double points. “I’m not going to have a bar fight with you.” I resumed walking away. Well fuck. This wasn’t how I wanted this night to turn out. But I’d had about enough of these cockweasels. This wasn’t going to be easy. I took a deep breath, found that calm center and turned around to give him an apologetic grin. “Sorry about the sister thing. Look, no one in my group wants to play pool with you. And I don’t want to fight you. Let’s just pretend this never happened and get on with our night.” I offered. “What about my money?” He shot back. “Victor won it. It was your idea to bet money in the first place.” It wasn’t looking like he was going to let this go. “One game. Same stakes.” He was really pushing it. “Do you even have $60? You had to borrow from your friends the last time.” He looked at his buddies who didn’t look happy. “I tell you what, if you win, you get your $60 back. If Victor wins, you walk away, enjoy your night and we can all just call this a learning experience.” I offered. “Fine.” Grand Dragon grumbled. I didn’t know why he was grumbling, it was a pretty sweet deal for him. But, I told myself, Neanderthals can’t math too good so I couldn’t expect higher brain functions like realizing when someone was giving him a gift. “Great! Your rack.” I fake-smiled the words in his direction. There’s no need to describe what happened. Weeble broke, then ran the table. Grand Dragon never got to use his cue stick. He was angry and in shock. There was absolutely no luck in what Weeble did. “Have a great night.” I said, putting my arm around Weeble and leading him to the other part of the bar where the dance floor was. The rest of the guys followed us. “Wow Victor, where did you learn to play like that?” “I bought a book. And there was this place all the kids used to hang out called Mr. Z’s Gameroom in a strip mall. They had eight pool tables and it wasn’t expensive to rent one for a couple hours. They had all the best arcade games too, Ms. Pac-Man, Galaga, Street Fighter, Golden Axe, like every one of the best. I’d just get a table and since I was alone different guys would ask if they could play me. I can’t play too good on a regulation table, it’s too big for me. But bar tables are easy. Here’s your money back.” I took my $60 back from him. “No shit, you really know how to work the ball, Victor.” He laughed. He really was a naturally happy dude. “I didn’t even do half the tricks I know.” He grinned. I wasn’t really a dancing kind of guy, so I just stood off to the side watching the Bravos have fun. I should have known the Klan wasn’t going to let things go. I was sipping the drink Potter had brought me keeping tabs on all the Bravos and whether they seemed to be enjoying themselves. Sleeper was doing his best trying to teach Zeus how to move on the dance floor but it wasn’t going well. They had a couple girls with them who were trying really hard to bark up the wrong tree. Even so, I could tell both of my friends were enjoying the attention. Sleeper knew what they were after, but it was so obvious that Zeus didn’t have a clue. Cellblock was sweet-talking some pretty thing at the bar, Troll was on the dance floor surprising everyone with his fancy feet…hell I never would have thought he was a good dancer but my man could move. Overall, half the guys were working their novelty to the local girls and the other half were as awkward as I expected. On my third scan, I realized I wasn’t tracking Weeble because he was lost in the tall crowd, it was because he just wasn’t anywhere. I made a circuit of the large dance floor, then went through the door to the lounge area, and finally the game area near the front door. No Weeble. I got a cold feeling when I also didn’t see the Klan anywhere. Bathroom. I went to the corner in the lounge area where the bathrooms were. It was still only 2245 so the place wasn’t super packed yet and there wasn’t a line at the bathroom. I pushed open the door and saw the Grand Dragon had Weeble cornered by the long trough urinal. Victor looked terrified and I wondered why. Country Cousin-Fucker might be a big boy, but he was a dumb piece of shit and Weeble could handle him with no problems. “Victor, quit fucking around and kick this inbred fucker’s ass.” I said, crossing my arms by the door. “I can’t Andrew. They might kick me out.” He seemed completely defeated. “I’ll just give him his money back like he wants.” “Stay out of this or I’ll kick your ass too.” Grand Dragon snarled. I sighed and ignored his ridiculous empty threat. “Weeble, the Army won’t kick you out and you won’t leave the Bravos for fighting. We aren’t on post, and this isn’t another soldier. None of this is a military matter. Stand up for yourself and show this piece of shit why we’re the best.” “Give me my money midget!” “You have to do it, bud.” I told Victor. I kind of wondered where the Grand Dragon’s Klan were, he didn’t seem the type to do anything without his friends. I moved my foot to wedge the door. This shouldn’t take long. “Put him down Weeble.” Grand Dragon was no trained fighter. If he had any sense he’d use his longer reach to stay outside of Weeble’s striking range. Instead, like all idiots who were over confident in their ability he used his size for intimidation. In a real fight, intimidation was an amateur dependence that only left you open for an attack. It wasn’t lost on me that Grand Dragon hadn’t even begun smacking Victor around. Bullies were always reluctant to have a true fight. “Assmunch… I don’t—“. I didn’t let him finish. “Fuck him up, Weeble, NOW!” There’s something to be said for training. A direct command takes a short cut past the decision making processes and action follows automatically when you’re trained for it. Now Grand Dragon was somewhere around six feet tall which put him a head taller than Weeble. That meant nothing. The sad part of all of it was how casually Weeble moved, grabbing Grand Dragon’s right wrist and smoothly stepping under his arm (size difference advantage superior move) twisting it with an almost gentle force until Grand Dragon was bent over and attempting to turn. Then Weeble kicked the country boy’s left knee from the side and just like that he collapsed where his chin hit the lip of the trough urinal and he crumpled to the piss splattered floor. Three seconds, tops. Weeble released his opponent’s wrist. “Victor, you can’t ever be afraid to fight.” I told him. “Don’t ever take shit from anyone. You’re always going to have people underestimating you and treating you like you aren’t their equal. Well you aren’t their equal, you’re better. And with most guys, it’s only going to take one time of you proving that for them to give you the respect you deserve. None of us go looking for a fight, but if one comes to us it’s sometimes going to be unavoidable. You deal with it. Figure out the consequences later. Now let’s get out of here. I figure you earned a drink.” “Are we just going to leave him there?” Weeble asked as he walked over to me. “Yep. His friends will find him. Other people will just think he passed out drunk. And trust me, he’s not going to tell anyone that you kicked his ass without any kind of fight. He’ll make up some excuse. Who knows, maybe he’ll get lucky and wake up before anyone sees him laying in piss.” We left the bathroom. I checked my watch. 2249. Guess it was time to round up the guys. I didn’t want to wait for the last bus… it was going to be full. Everyone except Potter, Battles and Lenger reluctantly came along. The Marines and Corpsman were going to stay out, drink, and catch a cab back to base. It looked like they had some chicks interested. Potter probably had a sure thing the way the woman was snuggled under his thick arm. Battles was going to have to wingman it for the chick’s friend but she didn’t look disappointed in second choice even if she wasn’t getting as cozy with him. Her body language was still hesitant but her facial expressions demonstrated interest. Frequent smiles, eye contact, that pretense of bashfulness. Yeah, all Battles had to do was make a move. Maybe they would be catching that cab back in the morning. I sat with Weeble on the bus back to Benning. “You had the most interesting night of all of us, bud.” I told him, laughing. “Hey guys, guess what Weeble did?” I announced to the brothers. “Besides kicking our ass in pool? Dude, you’re something else!” Troll called out. Weeble smiled big. “He KO’d that asshole in the bathroom when he tried to make Weeble give him back the money he’d won.” I told them. “No shit? Fuck yeah, that’s what he gets for messing with a brother!” Bootlicker cheered. I held my hands up with a single finger. “Put him to sleep in two moves.” Sleeper got up and clapped a hand on Weeble’s shoulder with a big handsome grin. “That’s my man!” He congratulated. “Damn bro, you kicked ass all over the place tonight you fucking badass.” Chunk called from the back. “WEEBLE ROCKS!” The rest of the guys all chimed in with various congratulatory shouts. “Get up and acknowledge your fans, bro!” I slapped him on the back. Weeble stood up on the seat and took a sheepish bow with what I can only describe as a surprised smile of pure happiness. When he sat back down I said “See? Don’t ever doubt yourself again. You belong with this group of idiots.” I politely ignored the tears that started to form in his grateful eyes.

I can’t wait for Felipe’s machinations to backfire and ruin him. And what a surprise…I thought he was a decent sort even though he was a bit pushy towards Alex. It would be great if Max’s family joined him in Monrovia, but even if they do he and Alex will be very busy still. And I can’t wait to see what’s in store for Sam. I am forever amazed how this story twists and turns.

I used to think he was hot. Attitude and personality can add or subtract hotness points. He’s gone into negative hotness points now.

That’s fucking awful. It’s unfortunate that your experience was not unusual back then. Once word gets out fear of association turns things ugly as if the only option for the predators is a demonstration of violence or bullying to prove they never wanted to do it to begin with. The lies they have to tell themselves to hide their willing participation (mostly from themselves) breeds anger. And even now it adds insult to injury that the general belief is that if a soldier is assaulted it’s their own fault somehow. I have tried to avoid the darker aspects, or dance around them, of being gay in the military back then in the hopes that I wouldn’t stir up too many painful memories but I tend to blame leadership the most for what happened and continues to happen. They set the tone, they determine what is acknowledged, accepted, and allowed. A hands off NCO, a distant or mission focused Officer sends the message that the complex social aspects of commanding a unit isn’t a function of command, when it fucking well is and I know for a fact from my Dad that Officers are actually taught at length about managing the individuals under their command. And ignoring it only means you leave that sort of thing up to troops who have been taught that judging the subtleties of the UCMJ or unit behavior isn’t their concern which leaves street justice as the most common go-to. ‘The Army doesn’t care about your personal problems, Private, figure it out or we’ll figure it out for you. And you won’t like our way of figuring it out.’ I’ve known many types of Senior NCOs and Officers. Not all were competent in their command. In fact, the good ones were rare. Selection for promotion and placement is heavily weighted towards time, personal accomplishment and performance often ignoring how they got it done. No, the military shouldn’t be some feel good happy place, there’s too many idiots, fuck-ups, whiners and slackers for that. But there’s also the assholes, predators, and bullies who perform well but are never corrected or disciplined for how they do more to ruin a unit’s morale than any cocksucker could ever do.

Thanks bud! It was a long time ago for me growing up on way too many military bases, but I try to put a little something of everything I remember into this story. It makes me feel good pulling up those memories, the little stuff you don’t really think would matter - what it was like in the base gym, or the PX, the buildings that were mostly old (didn’t matter which post you were on sometimes you wondered why they didn’t just fix shit) and how you wondered who rated so high they got a new or renovated one. You know what’s some of my favorite memories? It’s how being on base just FELT different than the outside world. All the rules changed when you went through that gate. I’m really glad I hit the right notes. Hearing from former service how what I write just takes them back to their own time in gives me that added push to try even harder to bring the reality of that time into clear focus.