Reflections on a Painful Past

I have used italics as a way to differentiate between past and present thoughts.

Part One:

Reflections of a painful past

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-When I told my father I would be following in his footsteps by joining the military he wrote me a letter telling me how proud he was of me and giving me some advice from his service experiences. The most important piece of advice he gave me was to join for the right reasons. He told me to make sure that I joined because I wanted to and not just to make him proud, because he was already proud of me and would continue to be proud of me no matter what I did. It was a beautiful letter and I kept and cherished it for many years.

I did join the Military; I joined in the Signallers Core as a radio operator and remained in the service for four years but then when I became pregnant with my first child, Leanne, I knew it was time to move on. Of course there was a lot more to it than that and now that Leanne is in her last year of school, planning her own future career, I sit with my pen poised above the paper and revisit the darkest place in my soul...

Dear Leanne,

Throughout your life you have made your father and I so proud and it has been a privilege to share the journey with you. During those dark periods in my life when my demons caught up to me it has been my love for you, your brother and your Father that kept me going but especially my love for you. I've really missed you while you've been away at school but Jack and I have always been impressed not just with your academic progress but how well you are growing into a mature and sensible young lady.

I read your email today. It came as a bit of surprise but if that is what you really want to do you must know that you have my full support. Your grandfather would have been so proud of you for following in our family's tradition of service to the country. I wish you could have met him, he would have loved you. When I joined he gave me a very good piece of advice and I want to share that with you. Please dear, make sure that you are doing this because it is what you want to do. If you are simply following in my footsteps then that is not reason enough. Your father and I will love you, respect you and support you through any life you choose to live. We are already so proud of you that we couldn't be any more so.

It is not an easy path that you have chosen and it will take all of your strength, resilience and endurance. I am sure you are up to the task. Personally, I struggled in the military and only stayed for four years. It was both a wonderful time and also the worst time of my life. Those four years are where all the demons that you have seen haunting me throughout your life came from, though it was not the military that caused that. Now that you are embarking on life as an adult I think it is time that I told you about my past. This will not be easy. Your father picked me up from a very dark place.

-I put the pen down and took a shuddering breath. My hand was shaking so much I couldn't write. My eyes squeezed shut. Can I really do this? Can I open that door and cope with the consequences? Can I tell my daughter the truth so she never makes the same mistakes I made, never surrenders her sense of self worth?

I joined when I finished high school just after I turned 18. The system that militaries use to train new recruits is tried and true. While warfare has changed over the years, the process for turning bright inquisitive young people into killers who shoot first and ask questions later has not changed. It is the same now as it was in ancient Rome, China or Greece. It is the same process that is used to brainwash people in religious cults and tyrannical nation states.

First they take away your sense of identity, they shave your head, put you in a uniform and take away your name, replace it with a number. Then they wear you down. Days, weeks and months of gruelling physical activity in extreme conditions, psychological abuse, no rest and no comforts. They have to break you to put you back together again in their image. Then when you're desperate and flailing about for some new anchor, some safety, they give you what you need. Structure, discipline and ideology. Indoctrination and institutionalisation.

"Pain is just weakness leaving your body!"

"Sir! Yes Sir!"

"Kill or be killed!"

"Sir! Yes Sir!"

"Show me your war face!"

"Sir! Yes Sir!"

"One shot! One kill!"

"Sir! Yes Sir!"

This is your first six months in the military. They call it your basic training, they teach you all the basic skills to be a soldier. Later you complete your core training where you learn the skills required of your specialist role in the military. But all soldiers are soldiers first. The truth is I probably wouldn't have made it through basic training. But someone came into my life. My first love. No dear I'm not referring to your father. I have loved Jack and honoured him but before him there was Claire.

-Her face... Her scent...Her kisses! But Pain! So much. Too much. Cold sweat and tears, shaking breath as I struggle to go on...

We were divided up into Platoons. Each platoon was divided into sections of ten people and each section occupied one room in barracks with a platoon to each building. There were three toilets, a laundry, and ten showers. How we ran to be the first to those showers. Late comers showered cold.

Our rooms had two rows of beds, one down each side of the room with an isle in the middle. Everything had to be uniform. My bed was up against the end wall in the left hand row as you came in the door. Then there was a small gap followed by my tall boy wardrobe and a set of draws side by side and on the other side of that Claire's space began. It was exactly the same as mine and on the other side of that was Natalie, and so on. We each had a flimsy curtain between our space and the central isle. This small nod to privacy was a privilege only offered in the woman's barracks; the men had no curtains in their barracks. Platoon Sergeants worked in shifts and most of the time we had a female Sergeant but every now and then the Sergeant was male, hence the curtains.

My location near the back wall was ideal, far from the door from which the platoon Sergeant could watch us, only one neighbour and with the curtain I probably had more privacy than most. Our days were gruelling with hard physical training and intense lessons; Navigation, weapons handling, stealth, equipment maintenance and so much more. I was proficient at the theory but every lesson had the hard physical element as well. You couldn't learn navigation only in the class room, you had to get out in the training ground and march. We marched miles and miles, day patrols, night navigation, pack marches and punishments. In the evenings we were exhausted. After our day training we ate in a communal mess hall then we did barrack duties, cleaning and preparing for the next day. At 2150 we were to prepare for bed. At 2155 we were to be in bed. At 2200 the lights were out. We learnt to sleep the moment our heads hit the pillow. Hell, I learnt to sleep standing up with an eye open. At 0600 exactly eight hours after lights out the bugle went off and the lights were turned on. Our next day began.

-

I was cheating, working around the subject. It was so hard to face the memories...

My problems started early on when sergeant McCoy made me cry. That was like bleeding in a tank full of sharks.

'This one is marked, she's soft, we'll break her and we'll weed her out. The chain is only as strong as its weakest link.'

Hell, they tried, especially Sergeant McCoy. And they might have managed too but Claire lent me her strength.

-

Here we go...

Claire was a petite but athletic blond and fierce. So fierce! Too fierce! She was and is to this day the strongest person I've ever met. She was steel. Beautiful cold steel locking away the inferno she could barely contain within. To say she had anger problems would be like saying the pope was slightly religious but I wasn't to know that then.

I noticed her the very first time we showered. So small and so muscular, A cup breasts. She was hot. She noticed me too. She caught me looking and just smiled but after that she stared at me blatantly and provocatively any time she found me in a state of undress. I just blushed and said nothing. Back then I was pretty, though pale and some people might not have liked my red hair or freckles. She would stare at my breasts a lot; I was a C cup back then and pert. I know what you're thinking dear. You try having a couple of wonderful children and see what happens.

We didn't talk much. There was no time for idle chatter and being caught chatting was a sure way to get yourself extra duties. One day on the range I was firing at a target three hundred meters away. McCoy was my range commander. The target was a man sized cardboard cut out with head, outline and vitals marked in. I was lying down firing from behind a sand bag. I was a good shot and this was a test, I had to hit the target eight out of ten shots and would get extra points for a good small grouping where I hit. I had fired four shots so far and had four close proximity head shots. Then just as I was squeezing the trigger on my fifth shot McCoy's boot slammed into my ribs. My shot went wide, a miss.

"Oooof!"

"Get that arse of yours down Private. A target like that will catch a bullet for sure!"

"Sir! Yes Sir!"

I didn't cry then. I'd learnt that lesson. I squeezed my body down to the ground as hard as I could and fired off my next five rounds in quick succession. Five hits in a very close grouping, every one smack bang in the targets groin. Because fuck him! With half my rounds in the groin and four in the head my actual grouping score would be terrible but with nine hits that was a pass. McCoy looked through his binoculars then grunted.

"Well done private, that's a pass. Get your sights checked you may have bumped them when I was correcting your posture." Irony was an art form in the military.

"Sir! Yes Sir!" Because fuck him!

That night in bed, it was safe to cry. I buried my face in my pillow and let it go. I don't know how much time passed but suddenly I almost jumped out of my skin, someone had stroked my neck softly. Claire. I felt her hand slide up the back of my head. She'd climbed over my set of draws and slipped into bed with me. She held me for an hour or so while I let it all out. My sobs were muffled but she didn't dare say anything, didn't dare risk waking anyone. Although, with her bed space next to mine and no one on the other side we were actually in the best place for privacy. Everyone slept so soundly, we were all exhausted. The room echoed with quite snoring and the occasional squeak of a bed spring. Built into the wall my bed had wooden slats rather than springs, it was a fact I came to appreciate over the following months.

When I was all cried out I rolled over to mouth my thanks to her silently but I didn't get the chance. Her mouth met mine and her intense fierce eyes pinned me in place. It was my first kiss. It was my sexual awakening. We didn't close our eyes. She had me and I could do nothing but melt into it as her lips explored mine and her tongue discovered me. She blinked, it released me. I gasped and fell back against my soggy pillow. I'd been too loud. I could hear Natalie murmuring something. Quicker than lightning Claire was gone. Over my set of drawers and onto her bed... which had springs.

"What the fuck you doing Claire?"

"Sorry Nat. Fell out of bed."

"Dopy Bitch! Keep it down alright."

"Yea. Sorry Nat."

She was so clever. And I could taste her on my lips. Her scent still lingered in my sheets. I'd fallen in love. That night I did something I'd never done before. I'm sure she was too. I could hear little noises from her bed springs.

-

Can I say this? Can I be this honest with my daughter? This is so personal! I'd never spoken of it to anyone before, not even Jack. Back then it was still so sweet. She hadn't hurt me yet and I hadn't... well I hadn't done what I eventually did to her. I didn't want to write this anymore but Pandora's Box was open and my demons were rushing out. My demon was rushing out. Claire ...

The next day I was a wreck too tired to think. Fortunately no thinking was required, just hard slog. It was fifteen miles with a sixty pound pack, ten pounds of ammo and a rifle in baking heat on a dusty dirt track with flies which bite and were attracted to sweat. At the half way mark we were given a five minute break to rehydrate. It was a good chance to lighten my load a bit too. My full water canteens weighed two pounds each. I made sure as much got poured over my head or spilled down my front, as went in my mouth and found a bit of minimal shade in some scraggly dry bushes near the side of the trail.

Thump!

She came down hard beside me. You could either take your pack off and then struggle to get it back on again or sit down with all the grace of a falling rock and hope someone would help you back up again. We'd chosen opposite options. In retrospect that doesn't surprise me. She wasn't looking at me; she just sat beside me and shook her head at my offer of water.

Damn!

She drank from her own canteen. She had a twinkle in her eyes, saw right through me

. Bitch!

She spoke very quietly others were nearby.

"I liked it Jesse. I liked it a lot."

"Yea, me too."

"Where going to do it more. A lot more."

"Yes please."

"Good girl. Tonight ok?"

"Ok," surely she'd gotten as little sleep as me the night before. What the hell was I getting myself into?

"Good, now give me a hand up will you? Where moving out"

Bitch!

Her eyes were sparkling again and she had a gorgeous little half smile. I staggered to my feet and hauled her up, pack and all, with a grunt. She helped me get my pack back on too. Did I mention I was in love?

That night couldn't come soon enough but as soon as my head hit the pillow I was asleep. I was so soundly asleep that it didn't wake me sometime later when she crawled into my bed. What woke me was when she bit my earlobe. I came awake with a gasp, quickly stifled as her hand clapped down over my mouth. She put her fingers to her lips and I nodded as I was becoming aware of her slight body lying on top of me. I could feel my panties getting wet. I always slept in my panties and a T-shirt. Some of the girls liked to wear pyjama pants but I didn't. It gave me a one sixteenth of a second advantage in the race into the showers each morning. One less item to take off.

Claire kissed me passionately. My mouth, my neck, my ears, around the collar of my T-shirt. She slid one hand under my T-shirt and started fondling me. It was the most amazing experience of my life up until that point. I felt my nipples get stiffer than they'd ever been before. I was about to make some noise but she knew what she was doing. Her hand clamped down hard over my mouth. She stopped the fondling. I felt like crying. She waited for a little while then put the finger of her (sadly) free hand to her lips again. I nodded and she removed her hand from my mouth. Instantly I lifted my lips to hers and kissed her but she pushed me back down again. She lifted herself up a little and started to adjust her position, I waited.

This was my first intimate experience and I didn't have a clue what I was supposed to do but she'd taken charge. That never ever changed. Not then, not later, not until the very end when I hurt her worse than she ever did me... but I will get to that later. She was wearing a white T Shirt like I was and I could feel her bare legs against mine, no PJs. I wondered if her panties were as wet as mine were becoming. She was now sliding her right leg between mine and had her left knee was outside my right one. She reached behind herself, between her legs and pulled my knee up so my thigh was on an incline up between hers. They felt so smooth and hard. I felt paradise between my legs but I desperately needed more. I wasn't going to get it that night. She'd decided it was for her.

Gently she slid back down my body till I felt her pubic hair tickle my thigh. She wasn't wearing panties! Thank god it was dark with only moon light or she'd have seen my cursed red head blush. She pressed herself very softly against my thigh then super slowly began to slide herself up and down; her small hard breasts were rubbing through the fabric of our T-shirts against the underside of mine. It felt so fucking hot, her breasts, her breath and where she was now pressing herself more firmly against my leg as her hips rocked in little sharp motions. I was amazed at what she was doing. She was using me to get herself off.

I slid my hand down between our bodies and touched myself. Heavenly fire! I must have made a sound. Her hand clamped down hard on my face. Her other hand pulled mine away from my panties roughly and redirected it to her chest. She looked angry and she didn't remove her hand from my mouth this time. Ever so slowly she resumed her rocking against my leg. I could feel her juices running down my thigh and mixing with mine in the soggy mess that had been my clean underwear. I longed to feel what she was feeling but I knew I couldn't be quiet. She was doing amazingly well. A few small gasps but nothing more. Her face had the most intense expression I'd ever seen and a vein in her neck was bulging. She pinned me with her eyes again. I could barely move such was the power she had over me in that moment. Hell, I can't tell a lie now, she had that power over me ever after, right up until the end, when I took it back.

I had been massaging her tiny breasts through her top but now I couldn't resist. I worked my hands up from her waist under the shirt and felt them against my skin for the first time. She had large areola and in her arousal they'd become puffed up, like little breasts on her breasts. Her nipples were much longer than mine and when I'd seen her in the shower they'd hang down a bit over her areola but they weren't doing that now. Now they were hard and pointing straight out. I had no idea how to please a woman's breasts at that stage in my life I had hardly even played with my own. I kind of fiddled with them a bit and I think I might have hurt her because her eyes opened wide and I was afraid she'd cry out. She didn't. Her self control was perfect. If only she could have controlled her temper and aggression so well. My life could have been much different.

Whether I'd hurt her or not, what I'd done seemed to push her over the edge. Her legs clamped down on my thigh and she buried her face in the hollow where my neck met my shoulder. Her hand was still over my mouth, which is lucky because I would have screamed when she bit into my shoulder. She bit really hard. I had to hide her bite mark for two weeks afterward when I showered. It cost me a lot of time spent under cold water! Her hips bucked and humped a few more times against my drenched thigh. And then the agony in my shoulder let up. Her lips were right beside my ear and her breathing seemed so loud but no one gave any sign that we'd woken them. It took her some time to regain her composure. My arousal was completely gone. The shoulder had done with that but she licked my earlobe and for a moment a little spark came back. Then ever so softly she breathed sweet words.

"Good girl. Thank you." And she was gone.

I was left to deal with panties and sheets which were all soaked through and I could still feel the wet patch in the sheets spreading. The panties could be changed; the sheets would have to be endured. The army made you good at endurance. I was having trouble processing what had happened. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined a girl riding me like that. Using me like that. Having an orgasm on top of me like that...