Category: Gay/Military
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THE WEEKEND
I figured Zeus and Sleeper had gone off for some private time, but was happy to see them return. I didn't think either one of them would be careless but I couldn't help the worry taking up a small space in the back of my mind. They returned subdued and I wondered what had happened because Sleeper wasn't walking with his usual swagger.
"What's going on, guys?" I asked.
Sleeper looked at Zeus and although he remained expressionless there was a deep undercurrent of uncertainty and sadness that radiated from his posture.
"We need to talk to you, buddy." Sleeper replied.
I nodded. If Sleeper wanted to talk, this wasn't something minor. My best friend wasn't someone who found it difficult to sort out his own head. "Somewhere private then. We don't have a lot of time. How about outside on the benches? Less chance our voices will carry."
Walking out the door the brothers all glanced at us. I made a motion with my hand to let them know I'd handle it. I could tell they'd noticed Zeus and Sleeper's odd behavior and wanted to help.
I selected a spot far enough away from the group of smokers getting their final cigarette of the night. Until Airborne it hadn't occurred to me that the Bravos didn't have a single smoker which I found curious. That defied the odds. After sitting down, I asked Zeus first.
"Buddy, what's wrong?"
Zeus's broad shoulders sank, his eyes refused to stray from the ground in front of him. The uncharacteristically quiet night was chilly. "I'm being bad again." The fog from our breathing seemed to linger longer than it should as if it held the weight of our feelings.
Sleeper shook his head and an angry look crossed his face. It passed quickly. He reached out and put his hand on Zeus's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Gabriel. This is my fault. We shouldn't have taken our walk."
Of course I was curious. But I didn't need to know the particulars to understand that Zeus's issue wasn't what happened on the walk, it was deeper. I read the signs: Sleeper was upset on behalf of Zeus, not because of him. Zeus was dealing with something that he would never blame Sleeper for and it sounded like he was blaming himself.
"Gabriel, look at me, please." I said. When Zeus looked up, his eyes glistened with unshed tears. This giant, capable soldier looked like a lost little boy and I couldn't understand how someone who was so much larger than life could shrink himself down to appear so pitiful. "You aren't bad, Gabriel. What do you want? What does your heart tell you?"
Zeus shifted his gaze to Sleeper, and tears fell silently from his eyes. I had to force myself to breathe through the overwhelming wave of sadness that bordered on despair that hit me.
"You love Sleeper." I said and sighed. I knew this was coming. I didn't think Sleeper would break this gentle man's heart, but I hadn't had a chance to have that talk with my best friend like I wanted. I studied Sleeper's face, his body language. He wasn't holding back from Zeus, in fact his hand had moved up to stroke Zeus's handsome broken face, his thumb wiping the tears that fell. No, Sleeper hadn't broken Zeus's heart. He cared deeply about Zeus.
"And you, Sleeper? What are you thinking?"
Sleeper shrugged, his eyes never leaving Zeus's face. "I love him back. I figured that out tonight. I'd do anything for him, but I don't know how to fix this." He said softly.
I tilted my head. "Fix what? Nothing needs to be fixed. You love each other."
"Assmunch, the Army -" Sleeper started.
"So what?" I interrupted him. "Do you think you're the only ones who have to hide? This isn't about a stupid policy. Look, at some point there's always going to be a conflict with what the Army wants and what you want. My dad had to face that decision more than once. Sometimes he chose the Army. Sometimes he had to choose his family. That's something you figure out when it comes up. This... this is about something else for Zeus."
Sleeper took a breath. "It won't work, Andrew. And Gabriel doesn't want to break the rules."
Maybe it was my recent reconciliation with Kevin, maybe it was because I was still basically a kid, but I felt they shouldn't just give up. A wiser, older me may have agreed with Sleeper's assessment. Yeah, Sleeper was just Sleeper about it, rolling with the punches and recognizing when he was out matched. In sports you learned to accept defeat without internalizing it and used it as a lesson to correct your mistakes so that you could come back and fight better the next time. But Zeus didn't seem to have learned any of that. In fact, Zeus appeared to give up the fight before he even stepped on the mat.
"Zeus, why do you have scars all over you?" I asked him.
Zeus looked down at his big hands which were gripping his thighs. "I was bad. I had to be punished."
That much I figured out already. The real question was why... and who. "What did you do?"
It didn't seem possible, but Zeus shrunk down even further until he looked small and helpless. I could swear he was a child in that moment, no older than 12, weak, uncertain, his voice was no longer broad and deep, no rumbling vibration caressed my body when he spoke about growing up and his brother. Sleeper and I exchanged frequent alarmed stares as we listened to what had been done to our friend. He quoted Bible verses often as a way to explain, but the worst part was the slow progression of how his spirit had been torn apart and crushed which he related without understanding what had been stolen from him by his brother's ever increasing cruelty. Zeus remembered every strapping. They began with legitimate but minor infractions (still not worthy of being whipped by a thin leather rein, even so). Then gradually they occurred for things Zeus couldn't help or had no control over. After a few years Ezekiel began whipping him for things that weren't mistakes or misbehavior and it became apparent Zeus was simply a target on which Ezekiel could express his anger and cruelty.
"I wasn't supposed to..."
"A man should always..."
"The Bible says..."
"It was my fault...."
"I didn't listen..."
"It was his job to teach me..."
"I had to learn..."
With every repetition it became clearer and clearer that Zeus's brother Ezekiel was an angry, bitter, cruel man who didn't actually care about Zeus at all, in spite of his insistence that it was for Zeus's own good. The events Zeus described were ordinary kid things, not a single one of them were actually bad or malicious. Not closing the screen door all the way... or letting it slam... Zeus got ten straps for that. He interrupted his brother's work when he was 12 to tell him he'd gotten an award for being the fastest to complete his math tables in the contest that day for his class, so excited and happy that Ezekiel would be proud he'd done so well. He'd gotten 15 straps for stopping Ezekiel's work, and for not immediately getting to his own chores when he got home. He got whipped for giving his favorite horse a half a carrot one day. He got whipped for not wanting to be whipped.
Holy. FUCKING. HELL.
I don't know how Zeus had survived all that without being completely broken. I wanted to kill. I'd always wondered if the time came when I saw real combat if I had it in me to actually kill another human being. Some soldiers don't, you know. Some soldiers never fire a single round in combat. Others will fire, but deliberately miss. Look it up, it's a common battlefield problem. But now, I had no uncertainty. Oh, I fucking had it in me, I could absolutely put a fucking bullet right through the center of Ezekiel's skull. I'd gladly watch his black, oily, evil brain splatter as the round exited the back of his worthless head. A bullet was too good for him, though. The words of Gutter, the Army Ranger who'd instructed us for that week in Germany came back to me. "Your kill should be cold, it shouldn't be personal. Your enemy is an obstacle, that's all. If you're angry, if you want him to suffer, you care about him too much." I couldn't be cold about this. I felt like throwing up. What kind of person could whip a little kid until he bled? Sleeper was furious, and tears were coming out of his eyes at the same time. His breath was coming in deep, shaky, heaving snorts like the whuff of a bull about to charge. I felt that tingling flush across my body as I finally put the last piece of Zeus's puzzle together in my head.
If I had admired Zeus before, now I felt what I can only describe as a righteous, protective love that raged through me like a violent thunderstorm mixed with an intense pride at the strength it must have taken to come out the other side as probably the most upright, decent man I'd ever met. That he could still feel anything good was a miracle and it only emphasized that Zeus was greater than us all. He'd endured years of abuse that was worse than torture. I understood how Puppy Dog Zeus could share this massive body with serious, quiet, masterful Zeus. What had been done to him froze a part of his mind at a child's age before it formed adult thoughts, the happy part before the pain. There was no happiness for Zeus after his father died and Ezekiel took over. Every piece of happy in him was a child's version of happy. In spite of his brother's insistence that he become a man, Ezekiel's actions ensured Zeus would never fully become one. Zeus was faking it all, doing what he'd been told without understanding why men acted like men. Knowing the rules, and knowing WHY there were rules were two very different things. The former you followed blindly, the latter you reasoned through so you could judge when the rules were appropriate and necessary, and when they didn't serve the situation. This wasn't about being good, and being bad. Zeus would never truly know the difference until he saw it from a different perspective than he'd been brainwashed through torture to learn.
"Gabriel. Do you love Addison?" I asked him, struggling to keep my anger hidden from my voice.
Zeus nodded.
"If Addison did something bad...something truly bad, like stealing, would you give him a strapping to teach him a lesson?"
Zeus looked up in fright. Then he looked at Sleeper. Shaking his head fast, he said "No, I could never hurt Addison. Never."
"What about me? Would you give me a strapping if you caught me stealing?"
Zeus didn't answer as fast, which was good. I needed him to think about it. I watched his eyes roam off. I wanted to actually chuckle because I could see his face screw up like a kid's when they tried to think their way through something difficult. Ah, it was good to find some joy in all this darkness. Puppy Dog Zeus was just that - pure joy. It just made me love this big man more. So many of us lose the habits and mannerisms of youth, or learn to suppress them. I saw it happening in my little brother Tim. I felt another wave of understanding come to me about my parents and my Dad in particular. How you want your kids to grow up, but have to watch the exuberant joy of youth gradually fade, and how it becomes a battle inside you between wanting that joy to stay around as long as possible and resigning yourself to teaching them to bury it or hide it so the harsh realities of life won't hurt them too badly. You have to walk a razor thin line balancing your love of who they are with what you want them to become. Once again, I found myself thanking my Dad for the lessons he taught me while letting me decide how to manage and control my youthful impulses. And through it all I knew my Mom and Dad loved me, even when they were angry at what I'd done. That time when we'd first moved to Texas and were in base housing and I'd accidentally put a hole in my bedroom wall play wrestling with Tim. Dad was angry, that would cost us money and this was Army property. You didn't damage someone else's property with carelessness. We fixed it, together. Dad made me do most of the work which seemed like a lot when I was 10, but I understood now it wasn't really that difficult. The funny thing was it ended up being one of my favorite memories of Dad and I working together. And he told me when the paint was drying how proud he was of me, how I'd done an excellent job.
"No, Andrew. I wouldn't strap you even though you know stealing is bad." Zeus finally replied. I wanted to ask him why, but it wasn't time for him to see that yet.
"Okay, but I did a bad thing. Would you let someone else give me a strapping?"
Zeus scowled. "No. But I would make you give it back and I would tell you not to do it again."
"So, you wouldn't strap Sleeper for doing something bad, and you wouldn't strap me, and you won't let someone else do it. Is strapping someone a good thing?" I asked. "I mean, hitting people is bad, right?"
Zeus screwed up his face again. "You shouldn't hit people, unless they deserve it."
Ah, good, I thought. Zeus COULD distinguish subtleties. "So, if Sleeper and I did something REALLY bad, REALLY deserved it... then you would give us a strapping?"
"Andrew, no. You and Sleeper are good. I really like you. I couldn't hurt you like that, even if you were really bad." And my giant God sighed.
Now. Maybe. "Gabriel. I don't think Ezekiel liked you at all. If he loved you, like you love us, he wouldn't have been able to do that to you, even if you were really bad. What Ezekiel did was bad, Gabriel. It was very bad."
"But..." Zeus trailed off.
"Sleeper and I would never, NEVER give you a strapping no matter how bad you were, Gabriel. No one deserves that. Especially a child. You could do the worst thing you could possibly imagine, and we wouldn't do it. Because we love you. You don't hurt someone you love. When you love them, you do everything you can NOT to hurt them. Was your brother ever nice to you? Was he ever kind? Did he tell you he loved you?"
Again, Zeus was lost in silent thought. His face became more and more troubled. He began blinking rapidly, and I saw his chest start to heave with short, shallow breaths. I think he was starting to panic. Thank God, Sleeper saw it too, and he immediately straddled the bench and pulled Zeus into a tight hug.
"I love you, buddy." I heard Sleeper whisper to him, nuzzling his face into Zeus's head. "You're a good man. A very good man." And Sleeper kept whispering to him, in gentle soothing tones, much of which I couldn't hear.
At possibly the worst time, I heard the crunch of boots on gravel.
"Hey boys!" Lance Corporal Potter announced. Something about the Marine's complete obliviousness to what was happening irritated me. Refusing to read the situation was unforgivable. I shot up and spun around. Private Battles was with him.
"No." I said, staring them down. "Go inside."
"Corporal. Go inside, please, Corporal, I think you meant to say."
I looked at him, letting my eyes blink slowly. What a fucking dickhead. I gave Lance Corporal Dickhead, who could probably pick me up and break my back over his knee, a half grin. "Interesting. I don't see a uniform. I don't see a rank insignia. I could check my watch, but I'm going to take a guess and point out we aren't on duty and it's after duty hours. Which means if he isn't in my chain of command I can tell a Marine Lance Corporal anything I want. With respect, Potter, this is Bravo business. Go inside... please."
I gave him credit for letting it go, even though I'd given him the out he still had the presence and grace to take it rather than puffing up. Maybe he was only half a dickhead. A baby dickhead. Like a nub. Lance Corporal Nub. Fuck yeah, he might never know his nickname but I was entertaining the thought of making sure the brothers knew it.
He darted a look at Sleeper and Zeus. I thought I read a brief puzzled look of concern cross his face. "Okay. Let us know if you need our help. I don't know what happened, but it doesn't look good. If you need us, we'll be with you."
I reluctantly gave him credit for finally reading the situation and actually being a brother about it. Dammit all to fucking hell. I wanted someone to hate right now, someone closer than Zeus's brother Ezekiel. Potter and Battles could take it, wouldn't bother them at all if I was to be a dick right back. But then Corporal Nub had to go and be a decent human. I was still going with the nickname, I decided. I'd keep it to myself, but his pathetic attempt to pull rank... a Corporal pulling rank... seriously? That earned him the honor of keeping his nickname. Maybe it was the Lance grade in front of his Corporal, maybe it was that Marine blood. I wasn't going to waste brain energy trying to figure it out.
"Thanks, much appreciated. Zeus is going to be okay. We got his back."
"You know Harris, I didn't get it before, why they'd choose you to be the leader. I think I do now." And he nodded his head to Battles then went inside the barracks. Battles hung back a moment longer, staring at me with a considering look that reminded me of Kevin taking me apart. I think Battles had the same gears in his head. Hmmm, smart Marines. How unexpected. I think I liked them just a little bit more.
I turned around and found Zeus and Sleeper in the same position. Zeus appeared a little less small, less shrunken in on himself. Sleeper was still nuzzled up against his ear with his eyes closed, his legs sandwiching Zeus's larger hips and thighs.
I unbuttoned my uniform shirt and took a quick look around, marking the building, the corners, the roofline, the other tables which were empty. A look behind me indicated no one was coming up the path.
"All clear, Sleeper. Go ahead." And I raised my arms in a big stretching yawn which opened up my shirt and covered three quarters of the view as I stood above them.
The kiss I saw almost made me cry.
It was a couple minutes to bed check when we got inside. I bobbed my head in a nod to the Bravos at the unspoken question in their looks. They all immediately relaxed and if they weren't already in their bunks under the blankets they quickly climbed in. I noticed Potter and Battles down the bay and gave them a nod of thanks. Nub and Gears. Maybe I'd let them in on it if we bonded during this course. I was pretty sure they would see the humor in it.
Zeus seemed more himself as he walked to his rack. For the first time since I'd known him, Zeus undressed by his rack, hung his uniform in his locker, stripped off his undershirt and pulled out his pajamas. He stood there in just his white boxers. Again, the entire bay came to a stillness. I refused to look away from Zeus's magnificent body, but if I did I knew I'd see everyone staring eagerly with looks that varied from complete adoration to lust. Just the way his muscles rippled and bunched when he moved was like a siren song that called to you and urged you to sink beneath the waves of his masculine strength. I felt like he was pulling me towards him yet I wasn't moving, I couldn't move if I wanted to, not until he told me to.
Zeus pulled out his puppy dog pajamas, the ones his mother had sent him. I felt a smile come to my face. Now that I knew a bit more about how Zeus grew up, it was obvious that at least his mother loved him and that she probably hadn't bought those pajamas for him. She'd probably made them, sewed them herself, which solved the mystery of how you get German Shepard puppy dog pajamas for a beast like Zeus. I'd never seen him put them on before, only ever seen him wear them, but somehow I felt this time was different for him. He paused for a moment and looked at them. He put a hand on one of the puppies that frolicked, stroking it with a couple fingers. He smiled, like a little boy on Christmas Day, lost in some memory of happiness. I had held myself together until then spurred on by anger and determination for my friend. All that left me suddenly as my tears started to fall. I couldn't help but think that little boy was free now to become a man. We'd have to guide him there, teach him the things that his brother SHOULD have taught him instead of crushing his spirit but this was something the Bravos could do for our God. I knew I would have to stay on my toes. Some of the brothers had some stupid idiot ideas about what men should do.
After Zeus dressed he climbed into his bunk. The duty Sergeant had done a bed check and turned out the main lights before leaving. I was almost asleep when Zeus's voice echoed through the bay.
"Good night everyone." We didn't say good night in the Army. Not like that, not to everyone. It felt weird, but then I questioned why. There's nothing wrong with being nice. But then I remembered, if this wasn't Jump School, we'd have a Sergeant screaming from the end of the bay to shut the fuck up and knock ourselves out or he'd come do it for us. That made me chuckle.
"Good night Zeus, go to sleep." I said back.
"Good night John Boy." Demon called out.
Some smart ass from the randoms called out. "Good night Mary Ellen."
Which made everyone laugh. Yeah, like we were The Waltons. Zeus and Holler probably came the closest to being a Walton.
Everyone laughed again when Zeus asked "Who's Mary Ellen?"
TOWER WEEK
The second week of the Army Basic Airborne Course was Tower Week. Everyone in the Bravos had made it through Ground Week. That's not to say it was easy, we were just at the top of our game. Four of the randoms either dropped or cycled out for one reason or another - injury, unconquerable fear of heights, or lack of physical fitness were the most common reasons for soldiers to fail Ground Week but I couldn't believe some of the failures were the result of lack of preparation and studying. Part of the course was knowing your equipment and procedure and the Black Hats constantly evaluated your proficiency and knowledge. Where were your hands? What was this part of the harness called? Were you paying attention to your Jumpmaster? We ran everywhere back and forth, barracks, chow, classroom, field. The 34 foot tower was no joke because it was high enough to put the thought in your head that if your equipment failed you'd plummet to your death. Stepping out that door the first time was a moment of faith.
The first lesson of the day after our PT run of 3 miles (up from the 2 &1/2 miles during Ground Week) and breakfast was the Suspended Harness and Swing Landing Trainer, or the SLT.
On the Suspended Harness were were clipped in to mock parachute riser slips, those two straps that came down from your parachute canopy that you used to guide your movement in the air. Our group and one other, about a hundred troops were all lined up under an open sided metal roofed building that contained overhead lines and hanging lift assemblies from which descended the mock riser slips that we were taught how to attach to our harnesses. Our Black Hats explained where to put our hands, how to grip, how to position our bodies and once again the repetition of keeping our knees and feet together and keeping our head down chin to chest. Frequently and repeatedly we pulled ourselves up from the ground using our grip on the riser slips to hand suspended using only the strength of our arms while the instructor pointed out corrections or what we should focus on. And while it wasn't exactly groping, no body part was safe from a Black Hat's hands so you got used to being touched everywhere.
The Swing Landing Trainer was next. This was an apparatus similar to the Suspended Harness only with movement. From an eight foot high platform we individually stepped off to swing suspended as we moved horizontally down a zip line that was maybe 20 feet long. Again, we were reminded to keep our feet and knees together. You'd be surprised how easy that was to forget when you had five other things to focus on. That was deliberate, we were told. It had to be ingrained, unconscious, automatic. Feet and knees together was what kept you from a stupid avoidable injury during landing. And we practiced that PLF, the Parachute Landing Fall, again on the SLT but it was different because this time were were actually moving sideways rather than just falling vertically. It was kind of cool, I thought, because you hung swinging back and forth four feet off the gravel pit while the Black Hat called instructions to you and you had no idea when the drop would come. You had to be ready the entire time to execute your PLF. Everything was geared toward muscle memory and being able to do it in your sleep. And trust me, you dreamed about it at night. Over and over again we moved through the line to jump off that platform. By lunch time my groin hurt from the harness straps, and my hips ached. You didn't always roll when you hit even though you tried. About half the time your feet hit and instead of rolling calves to knees to hips to shoulders you just went feet to hips. We were definitely doing massages again tonight. But after a while I was looking forward to stepping off that platform even though I hadn't yet been able to ignore the jolt to my groin I knew was coming. Some of the guys were leaning forward to go off instead of a lean and step so they wouldn't have to experience that jerk at the bottom. Of course they were corrected by the ever watchful Black Hat. We were taught how to detach ourselves from our canopy after laying on the ground.
The rest of the morning was ground practice for the mock door mass exit, which thankfully gave our abused bodies a break from the punishment of harness chafe and hip and shoulder beating from the PLF. Fucking hell. The mass exit training involved attaching your static line clip to the anchor line, internalizing the timing of the Airborne Shuffle (that interval of shuffling that your entire line moved at towards the door) which was one second for each soldier, do not rush the door, do not pause at the door. The mock door was just three feet off the ground and it was a free standing actual C-130 door we'd eventually be jumping out of if we made it to Jump Week. The mock door was at the end of a 10 foot long wooden platform like a dock with steps and that was where we lined up. It started to feel real. We practiced handing off our static line to the Jumpmaster which was the strap that pulled our parachute out of our packs after we left the aircraft. Lean, step, feet together knees together, hit the ground with both feet, knees and feet together, no PLF, hop away keeping your feet and knees together. Did I mention keep your feet and knees together? Yeah, you should keep your feet and knees together. One of the big lessons was how to hold our static line and position of our arms while doing so. In class we were told a few horror stories of jumpers who got tangled in their static line and it wasn't pretty. And we finally had our combat gear, our rucks, clipped to our harness below our reserve chute.
"You will not pause at the door." The Black Hat said to the group gathered by the platform. "Move forward in a smooth controlled shuffle. Follow the instructions of the Jumpmaster exactly and watch for his go. Your secondary Jumpmaster will control you with his hands towards the exit door." The Jumpmaster was the Instructor who manned the exit door. There were actually two, one at the door to grab your static line and a secondary three steps away to do a final visual equipment check and verify you were clipped onto the anchor line properly with your arm in the right position and keep you moving. "It helps if you keep time in your head as the soldiers in front of you move - shuffle, step, exit. Shuffle, step, exit. Shuffle, step, exit. Do NOT touch or adjust your equipment as you move towards the exit. Keep your left hand firmly on your static line until the Jumpmaster pulls it from your hand. RELEASE your static line when he grabs it, NOT BEFORE. Your combat gear will feel unbalanced and awkward where it hangs from your harness down in front of you as you climb the steps but YOU ARE NOT TO LIFT IT OR MOVE IT IN ANY WAY. By this time you should know not to talk as you move toward your jump." This would be the first time we practiced with our rucks clipped to the front of our harnesses and they hung in front of our thighs down just below our knees. The taller you were, the fewer problems you had, so Weeble was going to have a tough time of it. Between his helmet, main chute pack, his reserve and his ruck you almost couldn't see a soldier.
We were positioned in line in no specific order. I was in the rear of our group, not dead last but five men away. The morning was cold but it had warmed up to 42 degrees and it was grey and overcast. Everyone seemed eager for this. This was the last piece of the process of jumping. We'd been trained and practiced landing, moving, and exiting. After this we'd put it all together for mass exit training from the 34 foot tower.
And after lunch, that was the rest of our day until 1600 hrs when we had to inspect then secure our gear and equipment and return it to the building where we'd pick it up again the next day. In spite of the amount of time we spent standing around waiting to practice our exit, we were all pretty exhausted.
In the Airborne course we were of course free and at liberty after evening chow and some of the students went off for various fun or activities on the base. We'd all learned the first week that timing was important. The base gym was busiest just after 1700 hours, up until 1900 hours. So the Bravos tended to barracks duties until then. Our two Marines and the Navy Corpsman attached themselves to the brotherhood and had started to become unofficial members of the Bravos. Even though we were dragging ass, we still ran the mile and a half distance to the gym in our workout clothes.
Half of the Bravos were focused on keeping up their general fitness and endurance, like Bootlicker, Wanker, Holler, Demon and Shark. They played half court basketball, did full body exercises on the mats along with pushups and sit-ups. The rest of us did weight training to build size and strength. We all started with some deep stretching using the buddy system to really push to full extension.
Currently, I knelt behind Dumbo hugging him to twist his torso while he sat on the mat, holding the stretch.
"Breathe, Dumbo." I reminded him as I pulled him around just a little bit more. "Slow three count in...three count out. Okay, other way." I let him rotate around to his left, grabbed him again and pulled. "Hold it, breathe...there you go. A little more... good." I moved my hands to his ribs. "Left arm up, cross it behind your head to your right shoulder." I grabbed his elbow with one hand, kept my other on his ribs. I pulled him over.
"Ooooooohhhhh, yeah...". He groaned as his sore muscles stretched.
"Breathe." I reminded him. While I was manipulating his body, I saw the Charlies walk in.
I had a strange feeling come over me seeing the Charlies, like I was in two places at once. The time before we pulled our mutiny and thought the Charlies were all jackasses, and my recognition now that they were like an extension of the Bravos for me, my brothers. It was hard to reconcile. I wondered how much of our initial aversion to the Alphas, Charlies and Deltas was deliberately imposed competitiveness spurred on by the Sergeants. No, it was something else. Yeah, they definitely pitted us against each other. The Charlies were our main pain, Sarge letting us know every time the Charlies beat us in some qualification or task. We traded top rank with them over and over again, the Alphas and Deltas fighting it out for 3rd and 4th. The Charlies would take the lead, then we'd seize it back, then they'd outdo us, but we'd crush them again. We ran faster to beat the Charlies. We disassembled our various weapons and reassembled lightning quick to knock them back down to sniff our asses in second place. They'd never beaten us once in marksmanship. Navigation was always back and forth. We were champs at Comms and Intel because of Wanker and Bootlicker. We felt short in recon and mechanical. Strategy was a toss up, always, but I think that was because the Sarges got together to fuck with us, they loved fucking with us. It made the Bravos stronger, made everything an Us vs. Them situation. I got that tingling flush again. When you had an enemy, competition, doing well was not enough. You had to win. I had an idea.
"Lamont!" I called to him. We didn't have a chance to talk after we met up the evening of our first day. I hadn't actually seen them during our training every day, and every evening I had the Bravos studying or doing barracks business. This past weekend would have been the first opportunity, but again I had a ton of shit to do. Thank God Sleeper and Zeus did my laundry waiting their turn in line. Who knows what the randoms did, most of them left the barracks to run amok on the base and enjoy themselves. I hoped the Bravos wouldn't lose their focus like that. Time enough for fun and games after we accomplished whatever little game the higher ups in Command had in store for us. I knew there was a plan, you couldn't miss the signs of our special training, keeping us as a group. I still wasn't sure how we'd been selected or why, only that we were selected as individual soldiers from a diverse occupational background. We might never know.
Lamont and the Charlies came to the mats.
"How'd Ground Week go? Did everyone get through?" I asked him.
"Hey Assmunch. Yeah, of course. Didn't seem that hard. Hell, after Graf and Sergeant Horvath driving us to near collapse I'm not sure anything could take one of us out. How'd the Bravos do?"
"Same, brother. Every now and then I give them a taste of our Sarge so they don't get complacent." I replied.
Lamont chuckled. He leaned in and whispered. "Me too. I'll never forget that hairy bastard."
"Want to stretch with us? I have a proposition." I told him.
"I'm intrigued. Sure."
"Sleeper," I called to my best friend. "Go get the Bravos. We're going to have a competition with our brothers, the Charlies."
I helped Lamont do his stretches, outlining my plan.
"What are the stakes?" He asked.
"I'd like to make it Platoon stakes, but can't think of a prize we can all do easily as a group. So what about individual stakes? Match by match?" I offered.
"Yeah, I think the guys would go for it. Good workout, too." He responded.
"Okay, you and I will choose the match ups, try to keep things even. Laundry service next weekend is the prize. Whoever loses has to do their winner's laundry."
"Perfect. You go talk to your guys, I'll talk to mine."
I went over to the Bravos and told them the plan. They were seriously hyped up. I figured they would be, it was the Charlies.
Just then an older soldier, maybe in his late 30's, came up to us. He was wearing marine silkies that showed his thick powerful bare thighs. "You guys done with the mats?" He asked.
"Uh, not exactly. We were just about to start some hand to hand matches between our two groups." I explained. "We can wait a bit if you need to use them, or give you some space. We only need a little for the matches."
"Actually," he said looking around and taking us all in. He lingered just a little longer on Zeus and Sleeper. "I think I'd like to see this. Need a ref?"
That was a relief. It was better to have an outside ref, otherwise Lamont and I would have to argue.
"Absolutely!" I agreed. "Glad to have you. Private Harris, Airborne Course. Army." I stuck my hand out.
"Major Collins. Marines." He shook my hand. Now, you might think because we were out of uniform, at the gym, outside of duty hours it would be first names and casual. And it would have been if our rank had been anywhere close. He wasn't being a dick, and I certainly wasn't bragging about being an Army Private. But you avoided mistakes if everyone knew where they stood. He didn't want to hide his rank because there were certain things he HAD to report if he saw them, and he wanted me to know. I needed to let him know I was a trainee at Jump School. If he was in any way affiliated with the Airborne Course he knew I needed to know that too. I wasn't worried about the rule against communication with a Black Hat outside of duty hours. He'd approached us, not the other way around.
"A pleasure, Sir." I said. "You ever do one of these?" I asked him.
"Oh, here and there." He said evasively.
I chuckled. "Lamont, come meet the Major". I called. Lamont came right over and stuck out his hand.
"Private Lamont, Airborne Course. Army."
"My pleasure Private." Major Collins said.
"Lamont, Major Collins has offered to ref for us. Major, we usually do submission rules. Is that satisfactory?"
"You've matched before?" He asked.
"Yes, Sir. Many times. We don't mess around, and everyone knows when to call it. You won't have any idiots holding out too long here."
"Good, let's keep it fun, but intense. Don't want anyone to get dropped because of some off duty injury. "
"That's the plan, Sir. My guys are the Bravos. Lamonts are the Charlies. Lamont, let's get Zeus out of the way first. It's never fair, no matter who you select to go against him."
"Yeah, it's just sad to watch. I may as well send my weakest, Kilpatrick. Maybe he'll just hug the big guy to death. I swear he's got a crush on him."
I laughed. "We all have a crush on Zeus, bro."
Major Collins broke in. "Zeus is the big guy over there?"
"Yeah." I answered. "No one can even give him a challenge. He sits out most of the time."
"How about you two? Will you participate?" The Major asked.
"We weren't going to because we had to ref. But if you're doing it, I'd like to. This is the first time we wouldn't match in a Platoon challenge."
"Good. You guys go last then, against each other." He suggested. "Give your guys one last chance to get some payback no matter which side has more losses. Seeing their leaders go head to head is good for them. And if you're throwing away the match with Zeus, maybe I can start this off with some excitement." He grinned and raised an eyebrow.
Now Major Collins was absolutely in prime physical shape. Six feet tall, just slightly taller than me. He had to be 230, definitely knew his way around the weight room. His thighs alone could probably crush a man's skull. The Major's experience and Marine training would negate most of Zeus's advantages of height and strength, which meant Zeus would have to be smart.
"I think you might find it harder than you're expecting, Sir. He's a beast." I warned him.
"Outstanding." The Major grunted. Just like a Marine to think getting the piss beaten out of him was a fun night out.
Oh fuck, this was going to be good.
"Zeus! You're up first." I called. "Sweats off, Zeus. This is going to be a real challenge. The Major respectfully requests that you don't hold anything back." Zeus took off his sweatpants and sweatshirt and stood there in his tee shirt and PT shorts.
"Well fuck me." Major Collins mumbled.
"You get used to it." I said. "Mostly."
"Submission rules, just like before. Let's give them some room, brothers."
"I'm fighting a Major, Andrew?" Zeus questioned.
"I'm not a Major in the ring, soldier. I'm your enemy. If you hold anything back I will crush you." Major Collins said. He gave Zeus an intense stare.
Zeus blinked, then looked at me. I nodded. Sleeper clapped him on the back and whispered something to him. Suddenly Zeus's eyes changed, and I could swear I saw a predator sizing up his prey as he looked at the Marine Officer.
"Start!" Lamont called out.
Right out of the fucking gate Zeus took three steps and went into a grapple with Collins. Without a pause Zeus dropped his left shoulder suddenly, slipping free of the Major's grip and drove his shoulder into Collins' midsection, wrapped his arm around his waist to lift him off the ground and then arched back to throw the Major to the mat behind him. Zeus immediately flipped over and dove to try to pin the Major, but Collins wasn't having any of it. He rolled away and was on his feet in less than two seconds. Zeus had sprung to his own feet right after failing to get Collins under him.
"Nice move. It won't work again." Collins taunted.
"I don't need it to." Zeus said calmly. Dangerously.
Collins moved fast, way too fast. He was inside Zeus's defense too fast for Zeus to grab him or hit him, and he got his left leg behind Zeus's knee just as his forearm struck Zeus's chest. Zeus began to tilt back in a fall. If Collins got him down it might end because I was pretty sure the Major knew about 50 ways to immobilize an opponent on the ground. But Zeus wasn't a pushover... literally or figuratively. He twisted his torso opposite Collins' position while grabbing the arm that struck him, using his own backwards momentum and body weight to drag the Major off his feet and over his body to throw him to the mat. Zeus learned his lesson from the first throw and this time he didn't let the Major go from his grip.
By now, our large group on the mats had drawn some attention, and others from the gym were coming over to watch.
"Is that the Major?" I heard someone say.
The Major had wisely flung his legs away when he was pulled over and he kicked his feet on the mat to flip himself back over on top of Zeus. Now they were face to face with the Marine on top.
"Mount! Don't let him inside, Zeus!" Sleeper called out. "Guard! Guard!"
Zeus's feet were planted on the mat and he managed to bring his right elbow in before Collins could wedge his head and shoulder. Zeus lifted his hips while forcing the Marine's chest away with his right elbow. At the same time Collins was attempting to lock Zeus's legs with his own.
Zeus thrust up and forced Collins to disengage and they both scrambled back to their feet.
Collins immediately tried for a head strike but Zeus turned into the attempted blow, brushed it aside with his forearm, spun and delivered an elbow to the Marine's midsection. Collins was too savvy to let him get full contact and he danced back, abandoning his try to wrap Zeus's chest with his other arm and bringing his knee up for a kidney shot which Zeus easily deflected with the arm that was in position from his elbow shot.
The action happening was so rapid it seemed like each of them knew the other's move before it happened, like a choreographed dance. I felt my pulse racing. I'd never seen Zeus go full out like this. They separated, studying each other. Neither was even breathing hard.
Without an indication or warning, the Marine spun and kicked high towards Zeus's head and my stomach clenched. It happened in the blink of an eye and I knew Zeus was going to get slammed. Fuck the Major was fast. Zeus's right hand shot up just as the Major's heel got within a foot of his head and the Marine's ankle smacked into Zeus's hand. The force of the kick had to be incredible but Zeus's hand barely moved from the impact. Zeus's huge hand gripped the Major's ankle, Zeus ducked, twisted under Collins' leg yanking his foot around and he pulled, hard.
The Major was flung spinning face down to the mat and Zeus was already falling, his fist still wrapped around his opponent's ankle. It was going to be a pin.
Before Zeus made it down Collins flipped onto his back using Zeus's hold on his leg to pull his knees in. If Zeus hit, Collins was going to deliver a double knee right to Zeus's stomach. Zeus dive rolled, releasing the Major's ankle, and somersaulted to his feet, facing away. Collins didn't waste the opportunity having rolled to his knees he dived towards the back of Zeus's legs but Zeus was already moving, dancing away.
He allowed Collins to get to his feet.
"I thought someone like you might be more accustomed to offensive moves and neglect defense, but you grab offensive opportunity from your defensive moves." Collins said to Zeus.
"You're very fast, Sir." Zeus replied. "But you're not strong enough."
"I don't need to be stronger than you, soldier." Collins replied mysteriously.
Their match had drawn a large crowd, and I think just about everyone that was in the gym had come to watch. Even the Charlies were cheering Zeus on, and the rest of the gym crowd was cheering on the Marine Major.
"Then you should probably start fighting for real, Sir." Zeus said.
Huh? I didn't see the Major holding back at all. Every attempted move or strike seemed intended to disable Zeus completely.
Collins smiled at Zeus. "I'll give you the same advice. You won't hurt me too badly, and if I land anything on you you'll have to cycle back through the course because you won't be able to move for the next few days. So it's up to you. Take me out in the next five moves or you lose your place in the course. I have nothing to lose. You have everything to lose."
The worried look on Zeus's face when he heard the Marine's words was quickly replaced by determination.
The crowd had gone silent, most likely thinking the same thing I was thinking - they hadn't been fighting all out? They'd just been toying with each other?
And then the blows started, too fast to figure out, each movement, spin, punch, knee, kick, turn, dodge and block became another move, another attack. Blows were landed but neither of them allowed the full force of the blow to be absorbed. A turn to the side to avoid a head shot became a return knee to the midsection, which was blocked and became an attempt to grab the knee or waist, which opened up the opponent's neck and shoulders for a drop elbow. Kicks were flung, blocked, countered and leveraged for opportunity to seize, twist or make a strike to a joint.
Now both Zeus and the Major were grunting and sweat was pouring. I looked at my watch, this had gone on for 10 full minutes.
Each of them had been knocked to the mat where the other tried for a submission, but neither could immobilize the other. Hell, I was sweating just watching this. It stopped being fun and easy and seemed like they were seriously trying to hurt each other. I nudged Lamont. "Should we stop this?" I whispered to him.
"I think they are both loving the hell out of this, Assmunch. Let's just trust them to know where to draw the line." He answered.
That was fine for him to say, it wasn't his soldier at risk. The last thing I wanted was for Zeus to be cycled because he got hurt sparring. I'd give it another minute or so.
It didn't last that long. Collins began with a series of moves that seemed designed to flow into each other, and elicit specific defensive moves from Zeus. Zeus did not disappoint, but I got the distinct feeling I was watching a chess match. I knew a sacrifice was coming up, one designed to create an opening. Collins was leading Zeus, moving him exactly where he wanted him. Zeus was doing well, predicting every one of the Major's moves. A puzzled look crossed Zeus's face. I think he was figuring it out, but I didn't think it would be in time. Collins would make his move soon, I could feel it, see his body getting ready.
He was going to let Zeus hit him with everything, leave Zeus an opening he couldn't refuse, but it would leave Zeus open to some trick or counter that would put an end to him. Just what the fuck was the Major planning to do?
I almost couldn't take it. I'd started out figuring the Major would win, but over the course of the match it looked like Zeus stood a chance. But now I was tense. I was back to concluding Zeus would lose but I feared the loss would be something brutal. Anything less and the Major would fail to submit him.
Suddenly, it was there. Collins left his right side exposed, daring Zeus to take a shot. I begged him silently to miss it. I saw a resigned grin flash on Zeus's face and he took the shot. Which allowed the left side of Zeus head to be open. Collins' fist was already halfway to Zeus's face when Zeus's fist made contact with the Major's ribs. I gave the Marine credit, he never flinched. He was committed to his plan. A half second after Zeus rocked him in the ribs the Major's knuckles collided with his jaw.
Zeus went down like a demolished building.