A Marine Called Jason
(Revised)
by: Peter

(© 2007-2015 by the Author)
 

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

The Epilogue Chapters

Epilogue Chapter 25 

(Training Recruits) 

We caught the early flight out of Key West to a connecting flight out of Miami.  Jason slept most of the way.  I was a little surprised that his sexual stamina seemed to have gotten the best of him. We picked up my truck at the airport and I drove home.

“It’s been a great vacation,” Jason said.

“Yeah, and the fighter pilot was some of the most incredible sex I’ve ever had,” he said.

At home I went out to check on the animals.  When I went inside Jason was in the living room with the TV turned on. He hadn’t gone through the stack of mail on the kitchen table.  I picked it up and went into the living room to go through it together.  I’d barely sat down when there was a knock at the door.  I went to answer it. There stood two husky teenagers wearing athletic jackets.  I didn’t recognize them. They asked to speak with Jason. I let them in and called him and he came out to the kitchen.

“If we’re interrupting something, just say so.  But we would like to talk to you about the Marines if you’ve got a minute.”

He waved them to sit down at the kitchen table. 

“Would you boys care for something to drink?” I asked.

“Yes, please.  Water, whatever you have,” the huskier one replied.  “My name is Duncan Harris; he’s Marcus Boyd. We’re both seniors and we want to go in the Marines after graduation. We’ve talked to the recruiter and he’s told us what we have to do to qualify. He said the better shape we’re in the easier it’ll be in basic.”

“And he told you to come here?” Jason asked.

“He mentioned that you might help get us shaped up.”

“Well, he jumped the gun. I hadn’t decided on that yet, but it looks like you’re both in good shape,” Jason said.

I almost laughed, thinking why’d we buy all those PE shorts and jockstraps and ball straps in Key West?

“We wanta have an edge. We go to school with Heath Hendricks and he said you were in the Marines.  We’re hoping you might agree to train us, put us through what we’ll be facing in basic.”

He thought for about a minute then replied.  “Alright, but with certain conditions.”

“Name ‘em.”

“It’s my way or no way. You show up here on time on training days. You follow my instructions and orders without question. You can ask questions but you do not question. And I don’t listen to excuses.”

“Yes, sir, we can do that,” Duncan said. 

Jason looked at Marcus.

“Yes, sir,” he said.

“Same goes with my partner, here.  He’s a Marine, too, and he’ll be assisting me.”

“Yes, sir.  Thank you, sir.”

“When do you want to start?” Jason asked.

“As soon as you can.”   

Alright, be here at 0500 hours. Wear your gym shorts, white T-shirts and hiking boots; no sneakers.”

“Five in the morning?” Marcus asked.

“That’s what 0500 hours is,” Jason said. “I want you when you’re still fresh, mentally and physically.”

“I’m not really all that fresh in the morning,” the boy said.

Duncan kicked him under the table.  “He just said no excuses,” he said sternly.

“I’m sorry.  We’ll be here, sir.”

“Look, boys, we’ll do this but you should know, there are professional training camps for this. We happen to have a good buddy who has his own camp. We could put you in touch with him.”

“No kidding! Which one? Maybe we called him.”

“Levi Brant.”

“Wow! What a coincidence! We did call him!  But he’s like all the rest; too far away and way too expensive.  We can pay you but nothing close to what those places charge.”

“Well there is one advantage with us.  We don’t charge,” Jason said.                                           

“Then maybe there’s work we can do,” Duncan said.

“We’ll see about that,” Jason said.

They didn’t linger. They stood up, extended their hands and left.

Jason looked at me.

“Don’t say it,” I said.

“Don’t say what?”

“You’re about to say, what have I got myself into.  You’re going in with your eyes wide open. You jumped on it.  You already bought all those PE shorts.”

He laughed.  “Didn’t you see those boys? They’re so damned eager. It’s gonna be a pleasure working with them.”

“Maybe not that kind of pleasure, though.”

“We can only hope,” he said.

The two boys were indeed enough to instill hope. Duncan, putting it simply, looked collegiate, tall, with dusty blonde hair and a lean build, he looked like he should be in white tennis shorts with a sweater tied around his neck. Marcus was more bulky athletic, heavily muscled, with a serious look on his handsome face that seemed to reinforce his muscularity.

Secretly, I was glad Jason was doing it.  He was lost after all the boys left. 

“How much do you want to be involved?” he asked.

“I can step in anywhere, anytime you want me.”

He went into it wholeheartedly.  He dug out his Marine fatigues to see how they fit. He had lost a little weight but they still fit him well. He just wasn’t bulging out of them like he used to.  His arms still filled out the rolled up sleeves very nicely.  He even put a coat of polish on his combat boots. He brought out his web belt and mine, and washed the canteens and mess kits. He also found the hand grenades we had shipped back, and the bayonets. The grenades were disarmed, of course. I could sense his excitement. I dug out my stuff too, knowing I was going to be drawn into it, and willingly.

The boys were early, waiting when we went out the door the next morning. There were three of them.

“I hope you don’t mind, sir, we brought a friend.  This is Kurt Reiner. He thinks he wants to join the Marines but he hasn’t talked to a recruiter yet.”

Kurt, who I assumed was of German descent, definitely had the look of European ancestry. He was smaller of stature than the other two but with his blondish buzz cut and penetrating dark eyes, he had a look of tough determination; an air of “don’t fuck with me.”  His well muscled body gave the look that he could back that up if he had to.

Orientation was fun and it brought back memories of my younger days as a raw recruit. Jason insisted that I stand with him for orientation.

“This will be an overview this morning, then some PT. There will be a LOT of PT,” Jason began. “I will serve as the Senior D.I, or drill instructor. My partner will serve as Second Hat. He’ll jump in from time to time. At basic you will also have a Third Hat. Never, EVER, call your drill instructor a "D.I." Your drill instructor is always referred to as "Drill Instructor, and his name and rank. We will dispense with those formalities here; you address us as Sergeant Seaborne and Sgt. Coulter."

“You will learn a new language in the Marines. You don’t go "upstairs," you go "topside." Downstairs is “down below.” Your bunk is a "rack.” The toilette is "the head,” not the latrine. The floor is the "deck.” Walls are "bulkheads.” Windows are "portholes”. You face "forward.” Behind you is "aft." Facing forward, left is "port," and right is "starboard.” Do not refer to yourself as "me" or "I," it’s "this recruit." Never, EVER, say the word, "you" to your drill instructor.  You would not say, Sir, I don’t understand your request, but Drill Instructor so and so, this recruit does not understand the drill instructor’s request, Sir. And say it loud and clear. However, we will dispense with those formalities here; for the sake of brevity you can address us as sergeant or sir. But you still sound off like you’ve got a pair.”

He looked at me for my input.

“We’ve got some workout gear for you,” I said as I passed out the shorts. “Nothing fancy, but they’re shorter than what you’re wearing, they’ll give you more range of motion. Sgt. Seaborne has jockstraps to wear under them,” I added as Jason was passing out the Marine Corps jockstraps 

“Wow! These are neat!”  Duncan said, his eyes wide.

“Can’t wait to wear this in the locker room.”

“What’re these going to cost us?”

“It’s part of the program,” Jason told them. “There’s one more thing,” he said, nodding to me, and I handed out the leather ball straps. “These are more novelty items, not standard issue by any means, but they do serve a purpose.”

The boys held the straps, looking confused and curious. 

“Alright, but you’re going to have to explain,” Duncan said.

“Remember I told you to sound off like you’ve got a pair. Wearing these will be a constant reminder that you do have a pair. You will not be issued these in basic.”

“Okay, I’m starting to get the picture….I think….but I’m not sure I understand,” Kurt said.

“Let’s try everything on….the strap, the jock and the shorts,” I said.  They stared at me with a screwy look.

“Uhhh….here?” Duncan asked, looking all around.

“Yeah, here and now. There’s nobody here but us,” I said.

Kurt didn’t even glance around. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his PE shorts and the others followed his lead.  They pulled off their shorts then their regulation jockstraps, standing naked from the waist down. I took note that Kurt, other than his body; he was going to be a leader.

“Okay, I guess this goes on first,” Kurt said, holding the leather strap.  “But how, exactly?”

“I’ll show you; you guys watch,” I said.  I put the strap under Kurt’s balls and drew it up around the base of his cock and snapped it closed. “That too tight?”

“No, it feels….it feels good,” he said.

At the same time, Jason was helping Marcus with his strap and Duncan put his own on.

“Hey, it does feel good,” Marcus said.

“Yeah, I can see how it’s a reminder that you’ve got a pair of balls,” Duncan said. “These are neat.”

“But not something you wanta wear in the locker room,” I said.  “In fact, you need to keep these out of sight.”

The boys were greatly impressed with the jockstraps, and doubly so when they saw how the leather straps lifted up and out to enhance the bulk of their manhood.

“Fuck, this is awesome,” Duncan, cupping his hand over the bulge in his jock.

“Yeah, these jockstraps are sharp,” Kurt said.

“Now the shorts,” Jason said.

They pulled the shorts on that we’d purchased for them. 

“Wow! The strap sure makes a difference,” Marcus said.

“Okay, you’re strapped and equipped, let’s get started,” Jason said.

“By the way, Duncan and Marcus, you both need to get your hair cut before reporting tomorrow morning,” I said. They looked surprised and two of them ran their hands over their heads.  “Get it buzzed, like Kurt’s,” I said.

“My mom’s gonna shit,” Duncan said.

“My girl’s not gonna like that,” Marcus said, running his fingers through his hair.

“Do you need to tighten your ball strap?” I asked him.

“No, sir, I can feel my balls sure enough.  The hair’s gonna go,” he said.

 “Lacking the facilities of a military installation, we will still make it as realistic as possible for you,” Jason continued.  “We will cover the basics; close combat training, martial arts and weapons training with a rifle. Hand to hand combat, bayonet training, hand grenades, combat water survival,

“And a LOT of PT,” I put in again.

“And we’ll rig up some sort of obstacle course,” Jason added.

“Any questions?” I asked.

“How often will we come out here?”

“Every morning, 0500 hours, except Sunday,” I replied. They seemed surprised at that but they never said anything.

“What sports do you play?” Jason asked them.

“Football and wrestling,” Marcus replied.

“Say again?” Jason barked.

“I play football and I wrestle.”

Duncan punched him.

“Sir, this recruit plays football and wrestles, Sir,” he replied correctly.

Jason looked at Kurt.

“Sir, this recruit does not play sports, Sir,” Kurt said.

“How do you come to be built like you are, not playing any sports?” Jason asked.

“Sir, this recruit works out, Sir, and plays lacrosse for the sport of it,” the boy replied smartly.

“Good.  All of you continue to hit the weights, besides the PT you do here.”

“Do you have workout facilities here?” Kurt asked.

He thought for a moment then, nodding, he said, “Yes, matter of fact, we do have a workout room upstairs. We’ll make up a schedule for you.”

We put them through a half hour of PT; jumping jacks, side bends, leg thrusts, leg lifts and toe touches, trunk twisters, push-ups. They held up pretty well. So did I, surprisingly. Jason dropped out after toe touches and paced around, instructing the boys on proper form while I led them in the exercises. 

“Okay, we said this is an overview.  We’ll get into the guts of it tomorrow, 0500 hours. Come prepared to work.”

When the boys were gone we went in to have breakfast. We had both given up eggs and bacon so I made oatmeal. Jason picked at his and mostly ate the blackberries out of it and washed them down with coffee. He looked tired and he seemed winded. We had a second cup of coffee out on the porch then we set about turning the place into a military training camp. Short runs and wind sprints would be up and down the lane.  Longer runs and hikes would be along the railroad path where the tracks had long been removed. The firing range was no problem but the obstacle course would be a challenge.

“We’ve got the board fence they can climb over, and the rope swing up in the hayloft,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, we can have them climbing all over the barn, and jumping out of the hayloft into a pile of hay,” Jason said.

“We ought to be able to put the oak tree to good use; make ‘em climb it and come down a rope.”

“I’ll rig up a heavy rope from the hayloft door across to the light post for them to crawl down, and maybe fill up that big hole with water.”

“And tell them there’s an alligator in it?” I joked.

“Even if they don’t fall in it, we’ll make them crawl through it.”   

I added carrying cement blocks from point A to point B.

“And towards the end we do it all at night,” Jason put in.

We got a call later in the day asking if it would be okay to bring another boy on Saturday.

“Well, I guess we need to make a run to the army surplus store, see if we can find some Marine Corps T-shirts,” Jason said.

It was another expensive run.  Besides the T-shirts—we bought the dozen they had--to be on the safe side, we purchased six more web belts with canteens and mess kits and on a whim I picked up twelve field caps.  We also bought some dummy hand grenades and a supply of MREs.  We would’ve bought bayonets but there was only one and it was $135.00. We decided to make do with the two we brought back from Vietnam. Jason grabbed up some face paint then counted out all the back packs that were on the shelf.

The next day, Saturday, four boys showed up. The new boy’s name was Seb Foster; Seb, short for Sebastian. He was a mix of the other three; tall, very muscular with an unruly shock of light brown hair and darker eyebrows that set off his sparkling eyes. There was something unique about him; best description would be that he had a look of culture about him with a bad boy look hidden underneath. He seemed to have a permanent smile and he was drop dead good looking.

We outfitted him with the new gear we’d purchased and Jason told the boys they should try to get some military style pants. 

“Do I change into this now?” Seb asked, holding up the shorts and jockstrap. He’d snapped the leather strap around his wrist.

“Yeah, here and now,” Marcus told him.

“No disrespect, sir, but I intend to go in the Army. I wanta be a ranger,” he said, holding out the Marine jockstrap.

“Not a problem,” I said as I dug out an Army green jock and tossed it to him.

He was still a little shy about changing and even turned his back to the others but I noticed they watched him from the back.  He had great legs and an awesome ass. Kurt told him the strap didn’t go around his wrist.

“Where, then?” he asked.

“Around your balls,” Kurt said.

“What!”

“As a reminder that you’ve got a pair. Trust me, it works. You’re gonna feel the testosterone.”

Seb removed the strap from his wrist but he still wasn’t sure and when he hesitated Kurt took the strap.

“Pull your shorts and jock down,” he told him. Seb gave him a shocked double take.  “Pull ‘em down.”

He did then, and Kurt put the strap under his balls and drew it up around his cock and snapped it.

“That’s tight,” Seb said.

“Pull your jockstrap up,” Kurt said.

Seb pulled the jockstrap up and hefted his manhood into the pouch. “Yeah, I see what you mean,” he said with a smile as he smoothed his hand down over the front.

I took note again that Kurt was a natural leader. I also took note of Seb’s manhood.

We had them don the web belts and told them to fill their canteens from the faucet alongside the house. Remembering that Jason had eased out of PT before, I’d put on my old shorts to lead them in PT. We did the usual warm-ups then I took charge of putting them through PT. I headed down the lane with them in tow. I didn’t know how far we would run but I wanted to see how they held up. It was interesting and fun the way passersby honked and waved and the boys even got some catcalls. Two miles down the road I turned off the road into the old railroad path where the tracks had been taken up years earlier. It made a perfect running path with the tall trees and heavy growth of foliage on either side of us, like running down a green tunnel.

Well down the path I heard one of the boys say, “Damn, he’s in good shape for an old guy.”

“I wouldn’t call him old to his face if I were you; he’s liable to stomp your ass in the ground,” another boy said.

“Yeah, he could move a tank with those legs.”

“I bet he played rugby in college.”

“Yeah, he’s got rugby thighs for sure, and a rugby ass.”

I smiled and removed my T-shirt.  It was intentional; we were working up a good sweat and I wanted to see these boys’ muscles gleaming in the sunlight. I figured it wouldn’t hurt for them to see the old guy’s muscles as well.

I clocked us at about two miles then turned around and delivered them back to Jason who was waiting on the porch.  He stood when he saw us coming up the lane, set his coffee cup down and came down off the porch

“Worked up a good sweat, I see,” he greeted us.

“Yeah, not bad for an old guy,” I said with a tight grin directed at the boys.

Kurt cringed and whispered, “Oh, shit!

The others fought back tight smiles. Jason took over.

“This morning you’re going to learn hand-to-hand combat with some martial arts thrown in,” Jason began. “It is sometimes called close-combat-training but there is a difference. Close combat training can be with your rifle.  Hand-to-hand is without your rifle although it can include the use of a bayonet.  We will not be using bayonets this morning. Only your bare hands.”

“In a situation using hand-to-hand with or without a bayonet, you are face to face with the enemy.  You can smell his sweat.  More importantly, you can feel his strength, and you can see in his eyes.  And what you see there is the determination that he will kill you before you kill him. We can’t let that happen. The key to not letting that happen is to be better stronger and better trained than he is.  It’s called nut cutting time, gentlemen.”

He demonstrated on Duncan while I followed his lead with Marcus. Both boys responded well. They were strong and they were quick.  Then we took on Seb and Kurt.  Seb was very strong and Kurt was quick as a rattlesnake. Repetition being key, we did it over and over again with all four of them.  Then we turned the shirtless boys loose on each other with Jason haranguing at every turn.

Not surprisingly, Kurt took on Marcus, leaving Seb and Duncan to spar with each other. Marcus was bigger and stronger but Kurt proved his agility by pivoting away and then instantly attacking.  It was a pleasure to watch him in action.

“Fuckin’ shit, you’re quicker than a prairie dog,” Marcus growled.

“Keep in mind, there’s a boy somewhere in the world who is your enemy,” Jason barked at them.  “He’s your age, about your size and he’s training to destroy you and all you stand for. That boy, right now, is facing you. Do you feel his strength?  You have to be stronger.  Do you smell his sweat? If you don’t, you’re not close enough to take him down.”

At one point Seb broke and pulled out his canteen.

“Nobody told you to drink!” I barked. I surprised myself giving the command but it was so natural the way it came out of my past.

“Yes, sir,” he said sheepishly, and put it back.

When he went back into the skirmish he was met by Kurt. It was funny to see the surprise on Seb’s face when he saw Kurt facing him in a challenging stance. Kurt didn’t hesitate; he attacked like a cobra and took Seb down like a sack of potatoes.

“Geezuss, where’d that come from?” Seb said.

Kurt got up and extended his hand to Seb to pull him to his feet.

“No!”  Jason bellowed. “You are not here to win a sportsmanship award!  You do not help him up, you do not let him up. Geezuss Christ, why don’t you just kiss him while you’ve got him down! The attack is fuckin’ useless unless you follow through. Now you destroy him!”

It looked like Seb was starting to get up on his own and Kurt was going to let him. But suddenly he lunged and took him back to the ground in a hold that we hadn’t taught him, on his stomach with his right leg and arm locked together and a choke hold around his neck.

“Whoa! Where’d that come from?” Jason said.

I was wondering the same thing.  I’d never seen anything like it even in advanced basic. Kurt held him while looked up at Jason, for his approval or permission to release him.

“Good job,” Jason said, nodding. “Where did you learn that?”

“I was in a survival training group when I was back home in Germany,” he said.

“So you are from Germany.

“Yes, sir, I spend summers there, except this summer.”

“In that hold, how would you make use of a bayonet?” Jason asked

“I wouldn’t use a bayonet, I would snap his neck,” he replied.

I was as bit shaken inside as “skinhead” came to mind. I wondered what kind of survival training he’d had. I was seeing him in a different light—how lethal he was—and noticed he had a steely-eyed look. When he broke his hold, he stood without offering to help Seb up. I didn’t think it was anything personal; he was simply adhering to the training.

At one point Seb pulled his T-shirt up to wipe the seat off his face and neck, exposing his ripped, tanned abs, gleaming with sweat.

“Show off,” Marcus said.

“If you had abs like that you’d show them off too,” Kurt said.

“Why don’t you come over here and lick the sweat off my abs,” Seb said smartly.

“Naw, I’m saving my tongue for your sweaty balls,” Marcus shot back.

We repeated hand-to-hand on Monday with all its variations again without a bayonet or rifle. I was pleasantly surprised how quickly they’d learned the skill and how proficient they were. There was more PT of course and the boys were happy to hear that we were making the workout room available.  Jason showed them where he’d hidden a house key in the freezer compartment of the small refrigerator on the porch.

“Wow, you’re giving us the key to your house?” Duncan said.

“In a very short time I would trust you with my life, is there any reason why I shouldn’t trust you with the key to my house?”

“No, sir,” the boy replied sheepishly.

We’d talked about seeing if we could find an M1 Garand rifle to make the bayonet training more authentic.  Jason found one but didn’t buy it because it was over nine hundred dollars.

“Go back and get it,” I told him. 

On the next training day we added bayonets to the hand to hand. As before, Jason demonstrated the use of the bayonet, using his own, and I followed along with another boy using mine.  It was gratifying to see how seriously they took the training; the transformation from teenage jocks to would-be killers. Perhaps it shouldn’t have been, but these boys were wanting to be Marines. I was also again surprised how proficient Kurt was with the bayonet. When I commented on that he said his group in Germany trained with bayonets.

Then Kurt asked, “Will we be training with the bayonet out of the scabbard?”

“No,” I replied.

He just nodded and I was left wondering again about his survival training group.

We repeated every phase of training several times before moving on to the next phase. After hand-to-hand and bayonet we introduced the boys to hand grenades, stressing distance, accuracy and for God’s sake, get down.  I was pleased with their accuracy in throwing the grenades. And through it all, more PT.  The boys ate it up.  They liked being challenged. We broke from technical training one day and spent the entire morning hiking, running and went on a forced-march. I should say I did. Jason went as far as the end of the lane and turned them over to me. It wasn’t like him and I was starting to worry.

I was very happy to receive a note from Logan, along with short notes from his siblings. He loved the shorts and said he was sharing them with Lonnie. He hid the swim suits and he and Lonnie were trading them back and forth when they went swimming under the stone bridge. He said they didn’t keep them on very long, though.        

The big day came when we introduced weapons and live ammo. Kurt was a hunter; no surprise there.  He said he hunted wild boar in the forests in Germany. I suspected he’d learned the use of firearms for more than hunting. Marcus liked to target shoot but Duncan and Seb had never handled a gun. We started them out on a Ruger 45.  Jason explained the nomenclature of the gun then showed them how to hold and fire it.  Even the non-shooters took to it like ducks to water. These boys were serious about becoming Marines.

The next session we brought out our Savage 223. It wasn’t a military weapon but it was considered close to military grade. I showed them how to field strip and reassemble it and how to clean it. After several practice runs I blindfolded them to field strip and reassemble it. Firing the weapons was expensive and we had to restock our ammo a couple of times. We kept the M1 as the last weapon they would train on.

“You will not be using this weapon; it is World War II vintage.  A collectors’ item,” Jason explained.  “The purpose of using it here is to get you comfortable with various weapons, and it figures in bayonet training. And it’s fun to shoot.”

The boys thought so, too, although there were some sore thumbs learning how to load the clip. I repeated field stripping of the M1. Before they were allowed to fire the weapon, Jason taught the use of the rifle with bayonet.

“The most dreaded order in the military lexicon is fix bayonets. It is an order of last resort. It means you are going to engage the enemy face-to-face, eyeball-to-eyeball.  You are going to see the fear in his eyes, and behind that fear, the determination that he is going to kill you before you kill him.  You are going to feel his strength against yours. I can teach you the proper use of a bayoneted rifle but there is no order in close-order combat.  You thrust the bayonet wherever possible but I can tell you that the best way is a thrust upward just beneath the breastbone which will drive the blade directly into the heart. Having said that……”

He stopped talking and led the boys out beside the barn where we had set bales of hay up against the side of the barn to serve as practice dummies. The boys took to it with great enthusiasm, thrusting at the targets placed at critical points representing the heart, lungs, stomach and groin. Jason stopped them once to berate them because they weren’t making enough noise.

“You enhance the element of surprise and disorienting the enemy if you’re yelling at the top of your lungs as you attack.”

They responded with a ferocity that surprised us. That was especially true of Kurt. We had only one M1 rifle and I’d gone back to the Army surplus store and bought the bayonet that would fit.  For training, I taped one of our own bayonets to the Savage. I really don’t know why I gave the M1 to Kurt; I suppose because I felt he could handle it better than the other boys. He asked again if they were going to remove the scabbards from the bayonets. I was right, he handled the weapon and did the drills like a trained expert.  So well that he scared the crap out of Seb. I still purposely paired him with Seb because I thought it would do him good to have that feeling of fear in his gut.

The obstacle course we’d devised was another challenge the boys accepted with determination. It was a pleasure to see how they supported and encouraged one another. Marcus landed in the big hole I’d filled with water when he did the rope climb but the others maneuvered it successfully. There were a lot of cuts and bruises but only one time that required first aid. That brought Sebastian’s mother storming out to our place, along with her son. She looked angry as she got out of the car.  Seb looked angry, too, and embarrassed and tight-jawed.

“Are you mister Seaborne?” she asked in a demanding tone when I answered the door and stepped out on the porch.

“No, he’s not here at the moment.  Can I help you?”

“You can tell me what you are doing to my son, coming out here to learn to kill….tell me what you were making him do to warrant this.”  She laid her hand gently on the side of his neck where he’d suffered a bad cut along with bruises on his face when he was climbing and coming down the rope in the tree.”

“We are teaching him what he asked to learn,” I said calmly.

“Are you licensed?”

“No, Ma’am, what we’re doing doesn’t require a license.  We do not advertise or solicit and we do not charge.  The boys came to us all on their own.”

“And that gives you license to treat young boys in this manner?”

I wanted to light into her but I maintained my composure out of respect for Seb. “Ma’am, he wants to be a Marine; it’s not a picnic.”

“I’ve taken him to a doctor; he should have had stitches,” she snapped.

“He said I’m healing fine, Mom,” Seb put in. “It won’t even leave a scar.”

Ignoring him, she turned on me again.  “I think you will be hearing from our lawyer.”

“No, he won’t!” Seb barked angrily. “I chose to do this.  I asked these men to train me.  I am eighteen. I do not need your permission to do this training, or to go join the Marines.”

I thought she was going to bust a blood vessel, she was so angry; more so now that her son had stood up to her.

“You are a despicable man, teaching these boys how to use guns and to kill,” she spat.

“Like it or not, that’s part of what being a Marine is all about,” I said. “I would hope you might be proud of him, and I think you will be.”

She glared at him, gave me another dagger stare then walked off the porch.

“I apologize for my mother,” Seb said under his breath.

“No need to apologize, she’s your mother,” I said.

“I will see you tomorrow,” he said.

The training sessions continued.  Jason put the boys through combat water survival back in the creek.  It was a rugged course back when, and he remembered how to make it tough.  He taught them how to get past obstacles in the water; him being the obstacle.  He did his near best to drown them. When he had demonstrated he turned them loose on each other. It was a grueling thing to see, but very effective, and very enjoyable to see all of that young, wet, rippling muscle.

We sat on the creek bank and watched. Again, I was especially impressed with Kurt’s prowess in the water.  He damn near drowned the others.

“These boys are really shaping up,” he said. “They’re going to make fine Marines. Especially Reiner.  He is tough.”

I noticed Jason was still winded.

I was looking forward to the end of the training sessions myself; I was getting tired of getting up early to face four eager teenagers then go off to work.

At the next early morning formation Kurt requested permission to speak. We did not have question-and-answer periods but we did entertain requests to speak

“Yes, Reiner,” I said.

“This may sound like a dumb question but I’ve been wanting to ask it.  Are we supposed to not have sex while we’re in training? I ask because I had a coach when I was a freshman who told us we shouldn’t have sex while playing sports because it would drain our strength. I was wondering, what’s the Marine’s stance on that?

“Did you refrain from sex while playing sports?” I asked.

“No, sir.  The only sex I was having was with my fist but I didn’t stop doing that and I never noticed any signs of weakness.

“I never either, and I jacked off every day,” Marcus put in. “Hell, it got me pumped up for the game.”

“I can’t say that the Marines has an official stance on sex except they don’t allow jacking off or consorting openly with fellow Marines, all of which happens routinely under the radar.”

“But officially, here, should we be refraining from sex?” he asked.

“Doesn’t make a lick of difference to me as long as you show up and turn in a good performance,” I said.

“Well, I just wanta add, for the possible benefit of the others, that I’ve been doing it with the ball strap and it’s awesome. First time I did it I felt like I was exploding when I shot my load. I shot about six or eight feet and I didn’t know where it was all coming from. You guys might wanta try it.”

The boys had been making use of our weight room, mostly when we were there but a couple of times I came home to find them already there and working out. As I went upstairs I heard them talking. Perhaps I shouldn’t have, but I lingered back to eavesdrop. I was glad I did.

“You keep saying your country. You’re an American, right?” It was Duncan talking.

“But I was born in Germany,” Kurt said.

“So, do you hold German citizenship, too?”

“No. My father is American so that’s what makes me an American citizen.”

“But you refer to Germany as your country.”

“And in Germany I refer to America as my country. I have loyalties to both, because I am American by birth but I have German blood.”

“It’s fuckin’ complicated, but go ahead, you were talking about sex ed in Germany,” Duncan said.

“It’s not exactly sex ed, it’s just the way things are. Sex is more open and free. It’s not such a huge deal like it is here. I mean, it is for the individual, but it’s not such a huge deal to society.  For instance, when my parents found out I was having sex, all they said was to be careful about STDs and they didn’t want to be grandparents so soon. And gays have served in the military for years while we’re just getting around to it here.  Men here are scared to death of even being perceived as gay.  Like, I’ve seen two guys walk into a movie theater and they won’t sit together; they always sit with an empty seat between them. Like sitting next to each other and rubbing shoulders is going to turn them gay.”

“Well, there might be that perception.”

“That’s total ignorance,” said Kurt. “Having a beer isn’t going to make you an alcoholic. Liking brats and sauerkraut doesn’t make you German. Guys messing around together don’t make them gay; it makes them two guys messing around together.”

“What if I get to liking beer, so much I can’t stop drinking it?” Duncan said. “That could turn me into an alcoholic.  What if I liked messing around with another guy and that turned into messing around with lots of other guys?  That’d be more than a perception.  That’d be gay in anybody’s book.”

“That happens; you evolve and come to the realization that you’re gay. So what?  It’s not a crime, at least not in the US or Germany.”

“Have you ever had sex with another boy?” Duncan asked. “I mean real sex, something besides jacking off together.”

“Yes, but it wasn’t with another boy. It was with another man.”

“No shit!” Duncan exclaimed. “How’d it happen? How old were you?”

“You gotta promise not to tell the others,” Kurt said. “I’m not ashamed of it but I don’t wanta put up with all the guff from the others.”

“I promise.  I swear I won’t say a word, ever,” Duncan said.

“If you ever do, I’ll cut your balls off and feed ’em to you.”

“You’ve got my word.”

“It happened on a train when I was in Germany, just recently. I’d just turned eighteen. I was riding in coach and I like to ride in the backwards seats. There was this guy two seats away from me and he kept looking at me. I was looking at him too but I was noticing his build. He was massive. Found out later he was a rugby player. But he kept looking right at me; making eye contact. It was getting weird, but a good kind of weird. Funny feelings were going through me like I never had before. I was even kinda breaking out in a sweat. I almost moved to another seat but something kept me where I was. I tried avoiding his looks but I kept being drawn back to his steely looks. It was like he could look into my soul, like he knew I was uncomfortable with him looking at me like that but I couldn’t move away. Finally, suddenly, I got up and headed to the restroom. I didn’t have to go but I wanted to splash cold water on my face. About a minute after I went into the restroom—I was bent over the sink splashing cold water on my face—I heard the door open.  I knew without looking around that it was him. He said something like, ‘getting kinda warm in the car’ as he stepped up to the urinal which was right next to the sink and that’s when I knew he was a rugby player ‘cause he was wearing rugby shorts.  I didn’t turn my head to look or anything but I could see in my peripheral vision. You know how rugby shorts fit….they don’t just show a lot of thigh, they shall all of the thigh, and he had thighs like tree trunks. Suddenly my face felt hot even though I’d just splashed cold water on it.  I grabbed some paper towels as I straightened up from the sink and hid my face in them.”

“Anyway, he wasn’t there to take a piss either. He hadn’t even taken his cock out. He stepped away from the urinal and moved around behind me like he was waiting for the sink, even though there was another sink. Suddenly he moved right up behind me, pressing himself hard against me. He was solid and warm, especially the big lump I felt against my butt. He said, ‘I’m big on visuals, too, as long as it leads to something” and he wrapped his arms around me. He had my arms pinned to my sides. Then he asked me if I liked to get fucked. I told him no, loud and clear, and I tried to get free but he had me locked in a bear hug. I could hardly even breathe. He said, ‘Well, kid, it’s your ass or your mouth.”

“There was no getting away from him and no escaping the restroom. My only hope was that somebody would come in but he must’ve read my mind and he told me he’d locked the door so we had the rest of the way to Frankfurt to have fun. I said I couldn’t breathe but it wasn’t because he was holding me so tight ‘cause he was actually holding me kinda loose and gentle.  It was because I was so scared. But then I knew it was because I was so excited. Shit, I had a hardon from feeling him pressed against me like that. He asked me which it was gonna be, my ass or my mouth. He told me he really wanted to fuck me but he said it wouldn’t be rape because he could make me want it.  He was still giving me a choice but I was afraid he would make the choice for me if I didn’t make it pretty quick. I finally told him, ‘Okay, I’ll suck you.’  I couldn’t believe I’d just told a guy I would suck his cock but the words were out there and there was no taking them back.”

“But I wasn’t going to be sucking his cock. Not really.  I’d just offered my mouth for his pleasure because it was the least of the choices he’d given me.  Didn’t mean I had to enjoy it, which I had no intention of doing. I almost fainted when he shoved his shorts down. I did feel weak in the knees.  He had the biggest cock I’d ever seen. It hung way out over his hand, really thick, like a fat sausage. I could only imagine how big he would be when he was hard and that scared me.  If he shoved it down my throat I couldn’t make a sound and I had this horrible picture of being found passed out on the restroom floor.  He pushed me to my knees with one hand, which didn’t take much ‘cause my knees were already shaking. Anyway, there I am, face to face with his enormous cock and he smacking my face with it and rubbing it across my lips, smearing them with precum and I flicked my tongue out to lick it off. I hated that I did that but it was instinctive. He told me to open up and get him hard.”

“I opened my mouth and fuck if my tongue didn’t push out, like I was eager to suck him.  I wasn’t, and I hated that I did that too but it was like if somebody offers you a taste of ice cream, you put your tongue out to take it. Next thing I know, my mouth is stuffed full of his cock and I feel it pulsating, getting bigger and harder and pushing against my throat. He had hold of my head and I was scared he was going to impale me on it. It felt like the head of his cock was going to burst through my throat and I found my strength and wrested back from him. I told him I would suck him but I couldn’t swallow his cock; it was too big.  He was real nice about it; he apologized and eased his grip on my head and started fucking my mouth. I didn’t have any choice but to be okay with it.”

“The movement of the train kept throwing me off balance and I wrapped my arms around his thighs to hold on, and gripped his butt. He wasn’t brutal or intentionally rough; he was just a rugby player getting his sex the way he was accustomed. I thought of the women he fucked and how they must feel with all that muscle on top of them, plowing them with all of his huge cock.  A couple of times there was somebody trying to get in the restroom but he ignored them and they went away.  He kept looking at his watch. After about the third time he wrapped his hands around my head again and said we had to kick it up a notch; we would be pulling into the station soon. I didn’t know what he meant by that….what else I could be doing….but he started fucking my mouth faster.  I held onto his thighs for dear life and let him use me. He was causing me to slobber and my spit was running down my chin. Suddenly he grunted and gasped and growled that he was cumming. I was horrified that he would cum in my mouth and I tried to pull off but he held my head tighter.  He said, ‘No, kid, you’re gonna take it. You don’t have to swallow, you can spit it out if you want, but you’re gonna take my load.’  I thought, Oh Godd, he’s gonna cum in my mouth.”

“I tried to psyche myself up for it but nothing couldn’ve prepared me for the next couple of minutes. His cock exploded in my mouth. I couldn’t even imagine cumming so hard, and shooting so much cum.  The stuff started running out the corners of my mouth and I panicked that I was going to choke. He kept fucking my mouth and several times he came close to shoving his cock into my throat. I held on; he couldn’t go on forever, and I started counting down the seconds. Finally he was finishing up; I could feel his cock starting to deflate. I waited, still counting, till he pulled his cock out of my mouth. It fell wet and sticky against my arm with a soft smack. He said, ‘Wow and holy shit,’ and some more stuff.  Then he told me, ‘You did good, kid. You’re a good little cocksucker,’ as he was stuffing his cock back in his shorts. It pissed me off that he said that.  I hadn’t sucked his cock; he’d simply used my mouth. But then I remembered; I had actively sucked him. In the frenzied heat of the moment I did move my mouth back and forth on his cock. I shut that out of my mind, more horrified that I had a mouthful of cum and tasted awful.”

“He told me I needed to swallow or spit it out and get up off my knees because he was going to open the door. I staggered getting up and he steadied me over to the sink. I gripped the edge of the sink, working up the courage to spit the stuff out; I was afraid when I did, I would throw up. He didn’t wait. He thanked me and I saw in the mirror the door opening and heard him say something to somebody right outside the door.  I hung my head and let the cum drain out of my mouth. It fell in the sink in a huge glob and just lay there, covering the drain stopper, while I spit more out. Someone came in and I quickly turned on the water; but not soon enough. He’d heard me spitting and now he saw the mass of thick cum washing around in the sink. He said, ‘Fuck, that was a hell of a load. Was that all one load?’  I was so embarrassed. I rushed out of the restroom and made my way back to my seat, horrified now that I had a hardon!  I slipped into my seat, my face felt so hot I knew it must be red.”

“The rugby player was in his seat and he smiled at me and winked. I looked out the window.  Godd, why did I get hard sucking his cock! Suddenly I felt a presence beside me.  I looked up and it was him.  He handed me a Coke and said it would wash down the taste. I took it. I even thanked him. A few minutes later we pulled into the station. He got up first, walked past me and squeezed my shoulder and said, ‘Thanks again.’  I stayed in my seat till the train came to a stop. I could hardly walk when I stood up. The other guy came out of the restroom just as I stepped into the aisle.  He smiled and winked and gave me a thumbs up. I thought, Godd, I’m marked. But it went away eventually. I’ve put it behind me, determined that it wouldn’t change me.  And it hasn’t. It didn’t turn me gay. I still like girls.”

“But you still remember it; you just told it to me,” Duncan said.

“Well, yeah, you don’t ever forget something like that. But you bury it.”

“When you remember it, like now, is there anything good that you remember?”

“Good? No. But some of it….certain things….I’ve never forgotten the rugby player and how he was built. And I’ve never forgotten how it felt to have my arms wrapped around his massive thighs.  But those aren’t sexual thoughts; I just remember because I was so impressed with his thighs.”

“What about holding onto his butt?” Duncan said.

“He had a rugby butt; what can I say.”

“Do you ever think about what it’d been like if he’d fucked you?”

“No, I don’t dwell on that ‘cause it didn’t happen.” He laughed.  “If he had I would still be on that train, trying to get up out of my seat.”

“Can I ask you something?” Duncan said.

“What?”

“If I was to ever get my legs built up like his—rugby thighs—for you to hold onto, would you suck my cock?”

“No! I told you I’m not gay!”

I eased back from the door and went back downstairs, nursing a raging hardon and more certain doubts about Kurt Reiner. 

The recruiter called about two more boys wanting to join the training. I put him off.  I had the present squad most of the way through the course, I couldn’t finish with them and start two newbies at the same time.  Meanwhile, the boys brought two more of their friends. Rather than put them off, I called the recruiter and told him to send his two boys out; we would start a new cycle. My solution was to put Kurt Reiner in charge of the newbies. I could take him through the rest of the course so he wouldn’t miss anything.  I gave him the rank of corporal.  We only wore T-shirts so there was no rank on his sleeve but I bought corporal stripes and told him to have them sewn on his cap.

Jason was on hand for the brief orientation.  I introduced him first.

“This is Sgt. Seaborne.  He is in charge of the program.  I am his assistant.”

 Even though he was not so physically involved in the training I always accorded him the greatest respect, as did the boys when he appeared on the scene.  Their respect was salted with a bit of fear.

There were some surprised looks from Duncan and Marcus and Seb when I introduced Reiner to the four new boys.

“This is Corporal Reiner.  He will be your Drill Instructor. You will address him as Corporal. His orders will carry the weight of my rank as well as the rank of Sgt. Seaborne.”

Reiner seemed glad to have the responsibility and he took it seriously. Sometimes a little too seriously.  He was a hard taskmaster.  He gave orders like a professional. At the orientation he took charge of outfitting the new guys without being told.  It was fun to watch him.

“You’ll need to get your hair cut before reporting tomorrow.  Buzz cuts, like mine,” he said as he lifted his cap and brushed his hand over his head.  “Now, you need to strip down to your boots; here are the uniforms you’ll be wearing,” he said, holding up a handful of garments. I didn’t realize he’d rolled the PT shorts, jockstraps and T-shirts in tight bundles and snapped the ball straps around them.

When they hesitated, he barked, “What part of strip down did you not understand? I do not like to repeat myself, gentlemen!”

They hurriedly started taking off their clothes. They were an impressive bunch; lean and tight-bodied and well muscled.  Reiner passed out their uniforms.  The boys seemed pleased with the military jocks and the shorts but they apparently thought the leather straps were simply to hold the bundles together, for they were tossed aside. As they were pulling on the jockstraps he stopped them.

“Retrieve the leather straps, I will demonstrate how they are worn,” he told them.

Still confused, they picked up the straps.  Reiner took one and pulled it up under the boy’s balls and snapped it around the base of his cock.  “If that’s too tight, you can adjust it to your comfort level.”   Then to the four boys in general, “These are what I refer to as testosterone straps.  They are issued for you to wear as a reminder that you’ve got a pair of balls.”

When they were dressed he began PT.  He demonstrated then followed up with every boy to make sure he was doing the exercises right. He was not kind or gentle; there was no room for compromise. I turned my attention to the other boys and left Reiner and his squad alone.

Occasionally I went to observe the new squad.  I had not given Reiner a training schedule to follow; I thought he was smart enough to do that on his own.  I was surprised to see that he had moved from PT right into hand-to-hand.  And as before, as had happened with him, he was berating a boy for extending his hand to help his defeated opponent up.

“No! Fuck, why don’t you just make love to him while you’ve got him down!  DO NOT assist your opponent in any way.  You take him down then you finish him off.  Now get down there and show me how you would accomplish that!”

The boys were embarrassed, I thought because I had appeared on the scene to witness the tirade.  Reiner instructed the two boys through the maneuver then paired up the other two boys, then came over to me.

“I’m going to stop using the term opponent and start using enemy.  Opponent sounds too sporty and this is not a sport.”

“Very well,” I said.  “But this isn’t rushing it, is it, jumping right into hand-to-hand?”

“I don’t think so. These guys are catching on fast, Sergeant. In fact I would like permission to introduce bayonet training next session.  And without the scabbard, if I may,”

“No,” I said. “It’s too dangerous.”

“War is a dangerous game,” he said. “And frankly, I think training with the scabbard is too much like using rubber knives.”

“No,” I said again.

“As you wish,” he said with curt politeness. 

“Listen, can you hang back when we’re done for the morning?”

“Certainly, sir.”

Jason asked me why I’d ask him to stay back.

“I need to rein him in a little.”

He laughed.  “Being too tough on the little darlings?  Hell, turn him loose.”

“Not too tough. It’s how he goes about things with a vengeance.”

“Just don’t break his spirit,” Jason said.

When the boys had all left I went out to meet Reiner.  I wanted to talk to him away from Jason.

“What’s up, Sergeant? I can ease up if you think I’m being too rough on them?  

“There is some of that but no, we’re going to let things stand for the time being.   I would really like to know about that survival training camp you attend back in Germany.”

“What do you wanta know, Sergeant?”

“We can drop the formalities,” I said.

“All due respect, Sir, I would rather not.”

“As you wish. I can’t help noticing how proficient you are in your own training, and how you’ve taken to training the other boys.”

“You mean I’m too eager.”

“No. Proficient is the word. Exactly what do they teach in your camp? Who sponsors it?”

He bit his lower lip, like he was fighting back anger.  “I know what you’re thinking, Sergeant,” he said as he pulled off his cap.  “This doesn’t make me a skinhead,” he said, rubbing his buzz cut. “Hell, you told the others to get their hair cut like mine.”

“I’m not making accusations, Reiner,” I said.

“In a subtle way I think you are, Sir.  Otherwise, why are you asking me these questions?”

“I’m curious.”

“Which comes as a result of how you observed my training methods. I am an American citizen by birth. I am also German by blood.  It’s in my nature to give everything I’ve got to everything I do. But I’m not a Nazi. My father wasn’t a Nazi.  I don’t know if my grandfather was or not, but I tend to believe he was. It’s called a survival training camp, and it is that, but survival is not the reason I’m in the program. I’ve studied Hitler and his cronies. I’m in the program to make damn sure I’m prepared if some bunch of nutballs like them crawls out of the sewers and tries it again. The same reason you and Jason trained and put on the uniform, the same reason we’re training these boys. I’m not your enemy, Sergeant; we’re on the same side.”

I was suddenly filled with regret that I’d brought it up, but I didn’t apologize.  I couldn’t, and he wouldn’t expect me to.

“Well, I think we’ve cleared things up, Reiner,” I said.

“Have we?” he asked.

“We have as far as I’m concerned,” I said.  “And for what it’s worth, I’m glad we’re on the same side.  I sure as hell wouldn’t want you on the other side.”

“Am I to continue being your assistant?” he asked.

“Absolutely.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Don’t thank me.  You earned those corporal stripes.”

Reiner asked if the new squad should be given access to the house key to use the weight room.  I told him absolutely; we didn’t want to give the impression that we didn’t trust them.

Jason strongly suggested that take the boys on a twenty-mile march the following Saturday. He said that was next on his training schedule. I didn’t want to—hell, I wasn’t sure I could hike twenty miles—but I told him I would.  I was sure the reason he asked me was because he didn’t think he could make it. I was still worried about him.

“Make it a night march. It’s a good time to throw in food and sleep deprivation,” he said.

It was a grueling march. Butts were dragging and stomachs were growling.  But no one fell out and no one complained, at least not within earshot.  When we got back about three in the morning the boys collapsed in the yard and on the porch.  Duncan flopped down on the porch swing. I told them they were free to stay and sleep anywhere they could find. I managed to get inside to the couch.

I woke up from a hard sleep to the sound of somebody throwing up.  I figured it was one of the boys, sick from the march. I jumped up and went outside. The boys were all asleep.  I went back inside, realizing it was Jason. I rushed upstairs and into the bathroom just as he flushed the toilette.

“You all make it back okay?” he asked, wiping his face on a towel.

“We’ll see in a few hours how okay everyone is,” I said, taking the  towel.  I noticed blood on it. “I think it’s time to tell me what’s going on,” I said.

He didn’t answer me.  I followed him into the bedroom where he flopped down on the bed.

“Jason, what’s wrong? You haven’t been yourself lately.”

“None of those young studs have seduced you yet? Any one of them would be a fine replacement.”

“Stop! This has nothing to do with sex. You’ve seen a doctor, haven’t you?  Tell me.  I have a right to know.” 

“Yes….you do.  I’ve been dreading this….telling you. I’ve got cancer.”

Oh My Godd reverberated in my head but I didn’t let the words come out.  I couldn’t hide the pained shock on my face, though.

“That’s the reason I didn’t want to tell you….that look,” he said.

“Where?” I asked.

“Pretty much all over….all through me. Some of it is inoperable.”

I hurt so bad I was on the verge of bursting out in tears. I hurt for him and I hurt for me.  But I was thinking ahead.

“What treatment do they recommend?” I asked.

“The usual; chemo and radiation.”

“Well then, when…..”

“No,” he said, holding up a hand.  “I’m not going through that.  I’m not going to pump my body full of poison and still die a miserable death.”

“Jason, you can’t give up,” I choked.

“It’s not giving up!” he barked.  “It’s a conscious decision I’ve made how to deal with it.  I wish to God it was a more honorable and heroic way to go, especially after all we’ve been through together but sometimes we don’t get our wishes. All I can ask for now is to keep the pain tolerable and have you there.”

“You know that’s a given,” I said.

“Right to the end.  That’s what will make it an honorable death, having you there right to the end.”

“You know I will be.”

“And enjoying the time we have left.”

“How much time is that?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Six months or so.”

I lost it. I cried like a baby while Jason held me.

“Fuck, I should be holding you,” I blustered.

“You are holding me,” he said. “He said there’ll be good days,” he added as if it were a consolation. “Oh, and we have to finish with these boys; we review every facet of their training then put ‘em through bivouac.  And then some kind of graduation ceremony for them.”

“Yes,” I said quietly. “We need to tell our boys. All of them.”

“Not yet,” he said.

“Jason, they…..”

“I need time to figure out how to tell them,” he said.

“Don’t take too long. Kyle comes home, he’s going to figure out something’s wrong and he’ll tell Devon.”

I switched the last training sessions from early morning to the afternoon to make it easier on Jason. He wasn’t actively involved but he liked being there. It was mostly re-runs of everything they’d learned with Jason critiquing.  

It was a Saturday when we were finishing up and Marcus’ car wouldn’t start.  The other boys had already gone and it was too late to get a tow truck.

“I can drive you home, or you can stay the night and be here when a tow truck comes in the morning,” I said.

Marcus thought it over for a moment then said he needed to call his parents to tell them he wouldn’t be home. I hadn’t really thought about what I’d done till we were eating supper and I noticed the way Jason was stealing sly glances at the boy. When we’d finished eating Marcus went out to roll the windows up in his car. I looked at Jason with a steady, knowing gaze.

His smile turned into a chuckle and he said, “I was going to tell you, let you in on it.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“Up in the hayloft. The other guys had gone on. Marcus said he sprained his ankle when he landed from the rope climb.”

“Did he?” I asked.

“No,” he said with a quiet chuckle. “It was a come on. I knelt down to examine his ankle and he told me it hurt up higher. I moved my hand up his calf and he said a little higher. Obvious as hell, he was. I felt above his knee and he grabbed my hand and pressed it into his crotch. He said, “Here’s where it aches, Sarge.” He was hard as a rock.  I told him I could see why it would ache, carrying that kind of swelling.  He said he knew a way to make the swelling go down and he pressed his boot into my crotch. Then he turned into a little slut. He begged me to let him suck me and he would jack off while he did it and that would get rid of the swelling.  It was a quickie. He was good, though.”

“Do you wanta sleep with him?” I asked.

“I thought we both would….invite him to sleep in our bed.”

“No. You got to his bed.”

“Are upset with me?” he asked.

“Godd, no,” I said, laughing.  “I’m afraid we might spook him if we gang up on him like that.  He obviously wants sex with you.  Can’t say that I blame him.”

“I can ask him about you joining us.”

“No. He would say yes only because he thinks that’s what you want. I just want you to have your fun together, in comfort. Don’t close his door, though; it’ll be fun to listen. And I might wanta peek in.”

One day we came home to the sound of a vicious tirade of yelling and cursing.  I could hear it when we were getting out of the car.  Just as we were coming up on the porch one of the second squad came rushing out of the house, rushed to his car and left.  Reiner was close behind.

“Where’s he going? What happened?” I asked.

“Home.  I kicked him out of the program.”

“What? Why?”

“He violated your trust.”

“How? Did he steal something?”

“He never had a chance. But I discovered him in your bedroom going through drawers.”

I helped Jason to the porch swing and got him a cold beer.

“Go get him, bring him back,” Jason said.

“What!”

“Go get him,” he said again.

“Sir, you’re not going to countermand my order,” Reiner said.

“We raised a houseful of boys like that.  He’s going to face us.”

“Yes, sir.  What if he won’t come back with me?”

“That’s what you were given those corporal stripes for.”

They were back within an hour.  Reiner was still angry.  He got out of the car and slammed the door.  The other boy was pretty shy about getting out.

“Get on up there,” Reiner barked at him.

He came only to the steps.

“You wanted to see me, Sir.”

“You’re not allowed to drop out,” Jason said.

“I didn’t drop out. Corporal Reiner kicked me out.”

“And with good reason. He did exactly what he should’ve done. If you can’t be trusted in my house, how can any of these boys trust you to have their backs?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not asking for an apology.  I called your ass back here to give you another chance.  I’m doing this against Corporal Reiner’s better judgment but I outrank him.  If you pull another stunt like that I will turn him loose on you and he will have my permission to break you in half.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

It was nearing the end of the second squad’s training and Jason and I had been talking about a graduation ceremony for both squads. We were not going to take on any more boys due to Jason’s health.  It wouldn’t be anything elaborate; a cookout, followed by a sleepover because we intended to have beer.  We thought they deserved that much recognition as adults. We brought Reiner in on it because we intended to pass out rank, i.e., present them with caps like Reiner’s, with PFC stripes on them. We asked Reiner’s opinion on anyone he thought should be awarded a higher rank.

“Honest to God, I never thought I would be saying this but I would have to say Seb.”

I was already shaking my head.

“You don’t agree?” he asked.

“I agree he’s come a long way, but I don’t think he deserves to hold the same rank as you.”

“I bow to your better judgment, Sir, but I think he deserves some special recognition.”

“Got it covered,” I said.  We had already purchased the caps and had the rank sewn on as well as their names on the back. We’d also ordered paracord bracelets in deep green and black.

We extended the verbal invitation at the end of training. There would be Reiner, Seb, Marcus, Duncan and three from the second squad, Riley, Andrew and the would-be trouble maker, Owen. The fourth from the second squad couldn’t make it. I felt a little deceptive in the way I brought up the beer.

“Is there a man among you who does not drink?”

“Only when I can’t get it,” one boy said.

“Very well, with your approval, we intend to have beer at the cookout. Which is the reason it’s going to be an overnight.  None of you will be allowed to drive home till next day.”

“I think you’ve got unanimous consent on that,” Marcus said.

“For obvious reasons, we need to ask you to keep quiet about the beer.  I hate asking you to be deceptive but on the other hand we think you deserve the adult respect owed a soldier or a Marine.”

“Nobody’ll say anything,” Reiner assured us.

They must’ve decided among themselves to come in their training gear. Jason had lit the charcoal and laid the foil-wrapped potatoes on the grill and as they arrived he handed out cold beers. It was great to see him in such good spirits. When they were all there he told Reiner to call them into formation. He gave them a good ego building speech then turned it over to me.  I added my comments then got the box of caps. Jason and I went down the line, him holding the box while I removed each boy’s cap and dropped it at his feet and replaced it with a new cap, addressing him by his rank as I put it on him. Then I slipped the paracord bracelet on his right wrist. Seb was visibly surprised when I addressed him as corporal.  Reiner could hardly hold his smile in check.  He was equally surprised when I addressed him as sergeant.  They were all surprised to have their names on the back of their caps and especially pleased with the bracelets.

Jason made short work of the ceremony; he was never one to make a fuss. I checked the grill then went in and got the steaks and turned it over to the boys.  It was fun and gratifying for Jason and me to sit back and watch the interaction and camaraderie and see how far they’d come in a few short weeks.  These were no longer high school boys; they were young men.  Someone suggested they should be showing off their jockstraps and off came the shorts.  Someone asked if they all had their cockstraps on and they proceeded to pull their jocks down to show the straps.  

“I got a question for you, Sarge,” Marcus said, addressing me.

“Ask away,” I said.

“What’s the military’s stance on gayness in the ranks these days?”

“Gayness?” I asked, laughing.

“Yeah, like not being gay but doing gay stuff….you know, like helping a buddy out in a pinch.”

“Well, years ago being gay or engaging in any sort of gay activity was strictly forbidden.  If you were discovered, you could be court martialed and jailed, or dishonorably discharged. I don’t know exactly what the official policy is now but they’ve come a long way.”

“What was it like when you guys were in?” Duncan asked.

“Well, that was Vietnam and we were concentrating on the war and staying alive, not a guy’s sexual orientation. You took your sex whenever you could. I knew a guy who was a Navy SEAL and a highly decorated sniper who fucked more guys than women and it didn’t turn him gay. The rules are probably even more relaxed now, out of political correctness.”

“So if I made a move on Reiner and he was agreeable we could fuck around as long as we didn’t flaunt it,” Marcus said.

“Very likely as long as you didn’t crawl in his bunk and do it right there in the barracks.”

“Take it to the showers, huh?” somebody joked.

“Something like that,” I said.

“So, how about it, Reiner, you wanta go upstairs and fuck around?” Marcus asked.

“In your dreams,” Reiner replied, giving him the finger.

We ate and drank and engaged in manly conversation that belied the boys’ ages. The beer had its effect; it lowered inhibitions and made them sleepy. Someone asked where they were supposed to sleep.

“We’ve got four bunkbeds, two sleeping bags and a couch, you guys figure it out among yourselves,” Jason said.  “I may sleep in in the morning, so if I don’t see you, just want you to know, it’s been a pleasure and I’m damned proud of you.”

It was neat that the boys all snapped to attention and saluted him as he stood go inside.  He reminded me to collect their keys. I hung out with them for a little while longer then collected their car keys and went up to bed.

“Thought you’d stay up and nail a couple of ‘em before you came up,” he said.

“No, I’m leaving that to them, amongst themselves.”

“You think it’s going to happen?”

“I wouldn’t bet either way.  The conversation was going that way but I’m not sure any of them are ready.”

I didn’t know where everyone slept till next morning when I went around checking to be sure they were all present and accounted for. Marcus and Reiner were in one bedroom and one of their jockstraps was hanging on the bedpost. Andrew and Seb were in the other and Duncan was in a sleeping bag on the floor.  Andrew and Seb were both sleeping naked. Riley and Owen were downstairs, Riley in a sleeping bag and Owen on the couch.  I couldn’t judge whether there had been any sex going on but I thought so from what Riley and Owen said when they woke up.  I didn’t intend to wake them but they sensed my presence.

“You guys feel like outcasts down here by yourselves?” I joked.

“It was the safest place to be,” Owen said.

“Yeah, we didn’t wanta get involved in what was gonna happen upstairs,” Riley added.

“You guys want breakfast?”

“Not this early, all I want is sleep,” Riley said.

“Me too.”

I let them sleep and went in the kitchen to make preparations for breakfast. As I put the coffee on I heard the shower running. Several minutes later Reiner came down in his jockstrap. I asked him if he wanted coffee.

“It might help,” he drawled as he yawned and stretched.  I held his coffee while I took in the muscle display, then we sat down at the table.

“Why doesn’t it surprise me that you’re the first one up?” I said.

“Last night was nice,” he said.  “You guys didn’t have to do all of that.  We were happy that you trained us.”

“You all deserved it,” I said.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Last night we were talking about the military’s stance on gayness, as Marcus put it, and you said you knew a guy in Vietnam who was a Navy SEAL and a highly decorated sniper who fucked more guys than women and it didn’t turn him gay. Was that guy Jason?”

“Yes.  How did you figure it out?”

“I noticed you guys sleep together. You said it didn’t turn him gay.”

“It might have tilted him a little towards bi,” I said.

“Were you lovers in Vietnam?”

“More like partners,” I replied.

“I fucked Marcus last night.  Twice,” he said.

“I see.”

“He came on to me pretty strong.”

“Was that the first time with another guy?”

“Yes.”

“How do you feel about it in the light of day?” I asked.

“I don’t feel any less a man for it, and I don’t see him as any less a man.”

“Good. You’re going to make a fine Marine, Reiner.  You’re a born leader.”

To be continued...