Naked in Military SchoolChapter 18
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Week Three of the Corporal John Freeman Mackie Military School for Boys Optional Volunteer Participant Plan began on Friday, 15 August 1980. After wake-up and a quick cleaning of our squad bay we fell out for physical training—calisthenics and a one-mile run. Barefoot, of course; bare all over except for our temporary tattoos announcing our status as Program participants from Mackie.
Next, we showered. Showering is a communal affair. We washed the backs of others in our squad and had our backs scrubbed in turn, we inspected each other for cleanliness, and after we dried off in the air dry booths we marched to the mess hall for breakfast. After breakfast it was time for our weekly barber shop appointment. Some of the squad had body stubble—and that was shaved off to 'level the playing field, ' to remind us that we were all boys and all equal. There was a hygiene reason, too, according to Nurse Yardley. Our scalps were not quite shaved; we had short stubble on our heads.
Then there was an assembly in the gym. We call them formations or parades at Mackie. Only we new cadets and about half of the drill instructors were present. The other cadets were still on school break and even drill instructors take holidays! Five squads—four with eight naked cadets and one with six—stood silently at Parade Rest as the commandant marched to the head of the formation.
"Today you will learn what girls look like," Commandant Mackie announced. "A group from the Pioneer Girls of Jonesboro will be arriving this afternoon. You will treat them with respect. They are giving you a wonderful gift."
Mixed emotions. Girls! But I was just a bald-headed little boy. The teen idols all had long hair—not cropped close to the scalp. What would they want with me? I couldn't even achieve an erection. My short time at Mackie had taught me that military regimentation could suck the fun out of any endeavor. I was going to find out if sex was an exception. The other guys—I didn't talk to them much. We guys didn't share feelings.
Don't get me wrong. There was affection—of a rough sort. Some of the boys even were physically affectionate. Perhaps I owe Alfred Kinsey an apology for doubting him. I was a little too busy to re-read the landmark book, "Sexual Behavior in the Human Male." A lot had happened during the three decades since that book had been published. Besides, shameful behavior is one secret most people keep. I guess that is why women have only a "few" male lovers but every man beds a dozen different women.
"Squad Three, follow me," Cadet Corporal Hernandez said when we were dismissed from the assembly. We marched back to our squad bay single-file, bare feet slapping against the linoleum floor. Inside the bay we were told to take a knee—except for me. I was ordered to assume the Inspection Position, a modified Parade Rest; my hands were on top of my head instead of behind my back. "Cadet Thistle will be assistant squad leader until further notice. At this time we will practice on Cadet Thistle as if he were one of the girls we'll examine today."
Being the center of attention was bad enough. The other cadets made it worse by giggling like girls. They rushed me en masse and groped me—and I just 'left the room' mentally. I felt as if I were standing outside my body and looking down from a corner of the ceiling. I can't tell you who, but one cadet roughly poked my butt with fingers, another licked me, a third was pinching me—
"AH-TEN-SHUN!" It was Drill Instructor Sergeant Saunders, and he was not a happy man. I had been knocked to the floor and I stood up and assumed the position of 'Attention' slowly. It took me a moment to recover from that feeling of being separated from my body. A mental health provider would call it 'disassociation, ' a survival tactic often adopted by abused people. "Cadet Corporal Hernandez, explain what you were doing!"
"Practicing reasonable requests, sir," Hernandez replied. "It got out of hand. Sorry, sir, it won't happen again."
"What have you got to say for yourself, Cadet Thistle?" Saunders snarled at me.
"No excuses, sir," I stated. "I am not at fault in this—I was obeying appropriate orders, sir."
"What, exactly, was appropriate about that goat screw, cadet?" Saunders thundered.
"Warriors have three functions in society, sir," I said, "We employ force on behalf of our people. We shield our people with our own bodies. I filled the second function because it happened to me instead of our guests, girls under our protection."
The drill instructor began berating my squad—the third function of warriors is sacrificial scape goats to deflect criticism of society's leaders. The Giovannis had tutored me in history and that is where I learned that society's warriors were expendable. Throw somebody to the howling mobs and society will slake its bloodlust, its need for vengeance. But that isn't what Drill Instructor Sergeant Saunders said. He told us how worthless the lot of us was—and stopped only when Commandant Mackie entered.
"What's this all about?" the commandant asked in an even tone, as if he were inquiring about the lunch menu. Saunders gave a short, sharp report. When Saunders finished reporting, Commandant Mackie turned to me and said, "As the injured party, Cadet Thistle, what do you want to do?"
"Sir, I really would like to see what girls are like," I said. "So let's conduct this Reasonable Request lesson and do it correctly. By the book. With refusing requests done by the book."
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