Army Days - Basic Training
The Army called soon after I returned from Louisiana, and all of a sudden I found myself in a barracks full of draftees in Bordentown, New Jersey.
Most of the guys were younger than I since they were either draftees who had not received educational deferrals or young guys who had enlisted voluntarily right out of high school. I managed to get along alright with all the various types. It was a matter of everybody trying to survive the eight weeks of basic training, and being mostly too exhausted to make trouble. The sergeants were, as expected, primitive. They cursed, threatened, badgered everyone all of the time. Sex talk was constant and omnipresent, in all places and at all levels. The sergeants used profanity to encourage, humiliate, tease, annoy, praise and entertain.
"Who the fuck was that talkin' while I was talkin'? Huh? Speak up or we'll stand here all mornin'"
"I was jes tellin' Ryan here how to fold his poncho, Sergeant. Sorry, Sergeant."
"What?! What did you say, Broglio?! Broglio, are you fucking Ryan?"
"No, Sergeant."
"Well, good. If you're not fuckin' him, then leave him for me, okay?"
Such talk was common. The men generally enjoyed it, except of course when you were on the receiving end of the Sergeant's wrath. Sexual, and homosexual expressions were used constantly, by all of the enlisted men informally, and by the unit leaders, platoon leaders, sergeants and officers.
"It's 1400 hours, now. I want every swingin' dick back here in this barracks at 1600 hours, no matter what. Now line up to march out to the mess hall. Cummon, cummon, hurry it up, we don't got all day. Close it up, close it up tight. Close it up till the man in front of you SMILES!"
In the evening hours there was constant bantering, cursing, joking and the telling of sexual tales. I tried not to get turned on by the many young attractive men around me. The showers were a particular turn-on. Naked men soaping and rubbing themselves, maybe more than cleanliness demanded, due to the sexual tension brought on by absence of the opposite sex or even the privacy for a good jackoff session. There was no overt homosexual activity but the need for human contact is universal. One day a hillbilly type handed me a bar of soap in the shower and asked me to scrub his back. I readily agreed. The guy then told me to turn around as he repaid the favor. It was really only harmless, non-sexual touching. "Hey, look at this!," somebody hollered, pointing at me and the hillbilly. Everybody just laughed it off as the hillbilly explained that it was just a simple question of hygiene.
Nudity was not confined to the showers area; many of the men were very casual and would walk around the barracks naked, or nearly naked. I made a point of not staring. One evening a tough, good looking kid from Brooklyn was scrubbing the barracks floor wearing only his Army issued boxer shorts. One of his buddies made a comment about how tempting his butt looked sticking up in the air as he kneeled on the wooden floor. The kid, Camacho, responded by pulling his boxer shorts down over his butt, and continuing to scrub the floor with his boyish asscheeks exposed. This may have all been innocent fooling around, but I knew that lots of truth gets told in jest.
Although I remained low-key, not calling attention to myself or revealing my reaction to the homoerotic air of the barracks, my excitement may have been picked up by some of my fellow recruits. There was one guy in particular, named Craig, an older draftee like myself, who seemed to notice me noticing. We chatted as we smoked during breaks, and on the interminable Army lines. Craig was well built, working class, a construction worker. He was divorced, had a couple of kids. Like me, he seemed to get turned on by all the sex talk, particularly when male sex was the topic. He was big and physically powerful. One evening as a bunch of guys were standing around talking, one small young kid reached over a lower bunk to get something. Craig smiled, and embraced the startled young trooper around the waist, as he moved his crotch to the kid's ass. There was nervous laughter and the young guy decided it was best to play along with the gag, so he smiled and pretended to welcome the advance. Craig slowly ground his crotch into the younger boy's butt, as he made exaggerated panting, groaning sounds. As he rotated his pelvis, he watched my reaction. Craig's eyes bore into mine, and a small smile creased his lips. I felt excitement and a shiver of fear.
A few days following this incident, the platoon was out in the field on a maneuver. During a mid-morning break, the M-1 rifles were stacked and a thin soup was ladled out to the troops. The men stretched out on the ground and drank the tasteless soup from tin cups. I suddenly felt someone behind me. Quietly, unobtrusively, Craig had seated himself behind me. After the soup was finished, I lay down to close my eyes for a few minutes. Craig moved up slightly so that as my head descended, it landed on Craig's upper leg rather than on the ground. Surprised, I started to sit back up, but Craig firmly placed my head down again, inching up so that my head was now brushing his crotch. I looked up. Craig smiled. I looked around. Everybody nearby was into themselves; catching a few moments of shuteye, or talking with a buddy. I was fascinated with what was clearly happening. This big macho handsome construction worker was clearly making a pass. Craig lifted my head and placed it squarely down on top of his cock. I could feel it clearly beneath the khaki fatigues. We stayed that way for a blissful minute or two. Craig's dick expanded, making what I imagined to be an enormous basket which everyone would surely notice when he stood up. I began to panic; get out of this situation right now, I told myself. This guy is looking for a pussy-assed punk to fuck, and he thinks he's found one, I thought, my mind racing and my face feeling hot. I sat up quickly. I jumped to my feet, mumbling something about getting some more soup. I raced away from the trap. That night in my bunk I wondered what I would be doing if I hadn't turned Craig down today. My prick hardened as I fantasized about the two of us meeting in the latrine for a quickie. Craig knew about me. Sure he knew. So what? How did he know? Who cares. I stopped in time, that's all that mattered. I didn't let myself get sucked into a dangerous situation that could lead to hidden, unsatisfying sex at best, and a dishonorable discharge and disgrace at worst.