I'll be the first one to admit that I was nervous as hell when I enrolled in the US military basic training. On one hand, I was looking forward to the discipline in my life and challenging myself. I wasn't scared of the hard work. But on the other hand, I knew that being around other men 24/7 could be exhausting. I was never much of a man for the "guy talk". All the bravado, unnecessary swearing, and the way some guys talked about women... But I also knew that the army had a no-bullshit policy and that if you don't fit in, you're not going to have a good time.
So when I put on my uniform, I was prepared for the fact that once in a while, I would have to deal with shit like that. Maybe even learn how to pretend to be like that a little bit. And to my surprise, it wasn't that hard! Sure, they were a bunch of horny guys full of spunk with no women around, so sex talk was pretty much on the daily, but it didn't bother me as much as I think it would. I actually started getting into it after a bit.
One day, our drill sergeant ordered us to clean the common spaces of the barracks - my bunkmate and a bunch of other soldiers. It was a hot summer afternoon, so the work was slow and it felt like forever. Nobody wanted to be cleaning, so we spent every single opportunity we could to slack off. When we reached this remote corner of the hallway, we hid from the sergeant who came one in a while to check on us. We were just shooting the shit when one of the other privates pulled out his cell phone.
"Guess what, guys," he said, "Did you know that the sergeant has a wife?"
"No way," my bunkmate said, his tone surprised, "That big loud fucking hairy mountain of anger can get a wife, and I can't even get laid?"
"It gets better," the first one said when he finally scrolled to what he was looking for on his phone. He showed us the picture. Sarge's wife was about half his age, with long, beautiful hair and the physique of a model. It was also a very revealing picture - not THAT indecent when I think about it, but it only takes showing a little bit of skin to rile up a bunch of horned-up soldiers.
Guys were passing around the phone, whistling, laughing, making howling noises, saying shit like:
"Man, I wouldn't mind if she took his place!"
"That brute is fucking a beautiful thing like this?"
"Goddammit, I know what I'm jerking off to tonight..."
I wasn't that much into being so vocal about my sexual needs, especially since his wife - although beautiful - was not really my type, but when the phone got into my hands, I knew I had to pitch in my reaction as well. Peer pressure is a bitch. I knew that if I didn't say anything, or if I didn't react accordingly, I would probably get called a pussy or a cocksucker. I had to play my part - but I may have played it a little bit too well.
"Hah! Oh yeah, what a piece of ass," I exclaimed loudly, "Wouldn't mind getting some of that!"
I was so into the role, I didn't even notice the steps behind me, or the other soldier's grins fading from their faces.
"I would show her a good time," I continued, "A hottie like this? I'd give it to her seventeen times if I could - all night, she wouldn't even walk after."
"Dude, you should probably, sto-"
"I feel bad for her for having to fuck that neanderthal. Such a cutie and she has such a meathead sticking his cock inside her? I'd give her some good dick. She'd be begging for more."
"Private Jones!" I heard a gruff voice from behind interrupt me and felt another man's hot breath on my neck. I immediately stopped in my tracks. Was that...
I turned around slowly to face our drill sergeant. Sergeant Brockman - the meanest caricature of a drill sergeant you could find, like a walking stereotype from the movies. A huge man built like a brick house, probably in his forties or early fifties. His menacing muscles were filling his uniform in a way that would let you know that this man was well aware of how to protect himself without using a weapon. Enormous, broad shoulders, resting bitch face, scars on his face from who knows what hell of combat, and steel eyes that made you look even smaller compared to him. That was our drill sergeant.
"Hardly the language worthy of a member of the US military, is it?" he shouted at me - which was not uncommon. There were very few occasions when he would NOT be shouting.
"Erm... yes, sorry, sir, I just got carried away, um..."
I tried to hide the phone but of course, his eyes noticed immediately. He frowned - which made him look even more terrifying.
"Why don't you show me who you were boasting about?" he gestured at me to hand him the phone, "I'd love to see the woman who has the ability to make my men talk and act like animals."
I could feel the sweat dripping down my face. Every other soldier was silent, looking at Sarge and me. They all knew that he overheard everything I was saying... and that I was in deep shit.
"WELL?!" he shouted, "THE PHONE, PRIVATE! NOW!"
I guess I hesitated a little too long for his comfort. I knew I had no choice. My shaking hand slowly reached up and handed him the phone. I started praying in my head silently when his eyes looked at the screen - maybe a miracle would happen and the phone would suddenly die, or the app would crash?
Nope, fate was not on my side that day.
At first, he looked confused. Then, for a second, his eyes got huge. Hellish huge. Like he was going to cut me up on the spot. But only for a second - after that, his expression has changed to the calmest, most neutral face I've ever seen him make.
He put the phone into his pocket slowly and looked at me. His voice was cold and almost a whisper.
"Private Jones, I want to see you in my office. Today, thirteen hundred hours, sharp. You got that?"
"Y-Yes, sir..." I said, my voice weak and shaking.
He gave me what looked like a subtle death glare and then turned around and walked away. He didn't even scold anyone else for slacking off, which was very out of character for him.
"Wow... I've never seen him being so calm about anything like that before," the owner of the phone said, seemingly not being interested in being connected with it in any way anymore.
"Yeah," my bunkmate added, "I think you kinda pissed him off so much that a simple screaming wouldn't cut it. You're in it deep, Jones. Real, fucking deep."
***
The next few hours were probably the longest in my entire life. During the rest of the shift and the lunch, I was unable to think about anything else but what would happen in that office. I barely ate, and I was as pale as a sheet of paper. I heard the other soldiers whispering about me and how I was gonna get it. Nobody even wanted to sit with me, probably from the fear of being associated with me and somehow getting in trouble too.
When I was walking to the sergeant's office, every inch of my body was telling me to run away. But I knew I had to take my punishment like a man - otherwise, I would make it even worse. I didn't know what to expect when I hesitantly knocked on that door and I was just hoping it wouldn't be as bad as I thought.
"Come in, Jones," I heard the voice on the other side. He was expecting me.
I came in to find him sitting behind his desk, his hands together, staring at me. I closed the door, stood up straight, and saluted.
"Private Jones reporting, sergeant," I said, hearing my voice carrying an anxious tone. Usually, after saluting, he would say "at ease" and he would be very insistent about us keeping the posture until he said so. This time, he didn't, so I was forced to hold the posture.
He kept staring at me. His hands grabbed a cup of coffee that was sitting on his desk. Very, very slowly, he took a sip of that coffee before putting it back on the table. He knew that what he was doing was psychological torture for me, which was without a doubt part of my punishment.
"Tell me, private," he started, again with that unnerving neutral, cold tone, "If you were in my position and one of your men was saying the things that were said about you and your wife... how would you react?"
"Sir," I started, "I am deeply, deeply sorry for-"
"ANSWER THE FUCKING QUESTION, PRIVATE!"
The sudden roar was loud enough to make my ears ring. I gulped.
"I suppose I would have to punish him, sir."
"And how would you punish him?" he was back to his silent tone.
"I... You usually have us do laps, extra cleaning shifts..."
"Does that seem like a fitting punishment?" he interrupted me, "Laps, Jones? Do you feel like that kind of punishment reflects the amount of disrespect you've shown to me and my spouse today? Do you think that a couple of extra hours of cleaning would make you remember that this is NOT what I expect from my men?"
I could feel the sweat dripping at the back of my neck. What was going to happen to me...?
Sergeant Brockman got up from his chair and slowly circled his table to get to me. He leaned against the edge of his desk, facing me, with his hands folded on his chest, while I was still saluting in an uncomfortable position. I could hear the clock on the wall ticking, and my heavy breathing. Was he gonna punch me? Start a fight or something? Kick me out of the training altogether?
I just wanted him to say or do something already.
"You said some very interesting things back there, private," he continued, "I wasn't sure whether to be angry or impressed. Seventeen times, huh? All night? I wasn't aware that one of my men was such a beast in the bedroom. What an honor it is to be your supervising officer."
His sarcasm burned, but I knew better than to respond with anything or break the silence. I just stayed quiet and held the posture.
