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The next morning, I told my story to the Commandant. All of it. That Tommy had been a homosexual in high school. That Ortan and Hilt had "blanketed me." That Tommy and Big Dog had tripped me and sent me into a puddle. That the Stingler family name meant a lot to Jackson Military, and that I should never be treated this way. That if something wasn't done, I would see to it that my father became involved.
The Commandant listened impassively as I poured out my frustration and hurt. After 10 minutes, I stopped.
"Are you through?" he asked.
"Yes sir, but I want to know what you are going to do about this," I demanded.
"Now just hold on," he said, raising his palm to stop me. "Has Cadet Richards showed any signs of homosexuality here at the academy?"
"Not to my knowledge, sir," I replied.
"He has not, for instance, gotten an erection after forgetting about a towel?" the Commandant asked, looking me in the eye.
I flushed briefly, then regained my composure.
"That wasn't what it seemed like, sir," I replied. "I was nervous and it was cold. It just happened, sir. Cadets are always getting morning hard-ons, sir."
"You've noticed, then," he said. "How often? Every day? How many erections have you seen here?"
"I ... I haven't counted, sir," I replied, sensing danger. "It just happens, sir. It happens to me too, sir, that's what I meant to say."
"So back in high school, how did you find out that Cadet Richards was a queer?" he asked.
"I walked in on him with another male in the locker room after baseball practice, sir," I replied. "They were playing with each other, sir."
"Once, then?" he asked.
"Yes sir," I said. "But it was obvious."
"What year was that?" he continued. "Senior year? Junior year?"
"We were sophomores, sir," I said.
The Commandant began counting on his fingers.
"So that was how many years ago?" he asked. "Four? Five?"
I thought for a second.
"Four years ago, sir," I said.
"What sort of day was it?" he asked. "Warm? Cold? Sunny? Was it a hard practice?"
I hesitated. Where was he going with these questions, I wondered.
"It was late spring, sir," I said. "It was unusually hot that day. Everyone was sweated up."
"So you remember it well?" he asked. "Is there any chance you could be mistaken?"
So he wanted to be sure I remembered it all.
"I remember it, sir," I said, confidently. "It was disgusting, sir."
"What exactly were they doing, then?" the Commandant asked. "Could one of them just have brushed up against the other? How good of a look did you get?"
"It went on for 20 or 30 seconds until they saw me, sir," I said.
"Then what happened?" he asked.
"They tried to laugh it off," I said. "The other athlete was already dressed, so he left in a hurry. Then Tommy ... that's what he was called then, sir ... turned around and started getting dressed, and I left, sir."
"So Mr. Richards was naked and the other young Man was clothed when you saw this?" the Commandant asked.
"Yes sir," I replied.
"How do you know they weren't just joking with each other?" he asked.
So the Commandant was interested. Maybe he'd nail Tommy after all.
"They were both hard, sir," I replied. "Tommy was rubbing the other athlete's pants. I could see that he was hard. And he had his hand on Tommy's dick, sir."
"And what was this other boy wearing that you could see he was erect?" the Commandant asked.
"A pair of tan khakis, sir," I said. "They were tight and he was ... well, sir, large. There was no mistaking, sir."
"And you watched for how long?" he asked.
"Maybe 30 seconds, maybe longer, sir," I said. "I got a good look, sir."
"And Mr. Richards was unmistakably erect?" the Commandant asked.
"Oh yes sir," I replied. "Tommy had one of the biggest, sir."
The Commandant smiled.
"And how did you know that, Cadet Stingler?" he asked. Suddenly, I felt a trap closing.
"Um ... um ... well ... um, that's what everyone always said, sir," I replied, my face reddening.
"I think I've heard what I needed to hear," the Commandant said, as he shoved a thick file toward me across his desk.
"Go ahead. Open it, and read it," he said coldly.
I opened the folder, and a sheaf of papers fell out. They were weekly discipline scores, rating me on a dozen dimensions of military skill.
"You have the lowest grades of any cadet in this institution," the Commandant said. "Your instructors believe you are deficient. Your peers do not respect you. Your disciplinary history is in the bottom 1% of the entire Corps of Cadets. And now you come to me with a four-year-old story about your comrade who had the biggest erection in your high school. Just because you happen to know, of course."
I tried to reply, but he cut me off. In a cold voice, the Commandant explained that he and my father had chatted weekly.
"I have been unable to bear the thought of telling him that his younger son is universally disregarded and disrespected here," he said, coldly. "I have been carrying you, son, and so have your comrades. But you have made demands that you are in no position to ever make of any Man here."
If I were anything other than a Stingler, he continued, I'd have been cut loose within my first two weeks at Jackson.
"You made an instant impression of weakness, disobedience, and sneakiness," he said. "It was only because of your family history that I kept you. Throughout your time here, I have waived most every rule in the book. But now we can add cowardice, dishonesty, and perversion to the list. Your free ride ends right now."
I knew what was coming, but I could never face my father if I were expelled.
"I want you to leave us," the Commandant said, staring holes right through me. "You are morally unfit to be part of our corps. You can pick up the paperwork on your way out and drop it off tomorrow."
My mind reeled in panic.
"Sir, is there nothing I can do?" I pleaded. "My father will kill me, sir!"
"You are morally unfit to be part of our corps," he repeated. "You may leave this institution as I have recommended, or you can become a Trainee. You have seen Trainees here, but you have not spoken to them because it's forbidden."
My horror deepened. A Trainee! Me! Trainees were the lowest of the low, almost like beings from another planet. They didn't participate in study groups or any of the informal social groups the pervaded the institution. They were excluded from academy functions, such as dances and athletic events. They even took their meals separately from everyone else. The only benefits to being a Trainee were that cadets were not to speak to them, touch them, or otherwise harass them, and that no one was ever to discuss or reveal their existence or status to outsiders.
But these weren't really privileges at all, because as rigorous as the academy's routines were, cadets considered their endurance of them a mark of distinction. A Trainee's exclusion from the Corps eliminated their very existence as cadets, so Trainees were stripped not just of comradeship but of the pride of being a cadet. A Trainee was an alien, almost like a virus.
Yet, in a certain way, Trainees were integral to the academy's structure. Their existence was a silent and powerful reminder that the codes were real, and that the penalty of repeated violations would be devastating. The gigantic gap between the quivering Trainees and their menacing supervisors personified the core idea behind the academy: that all Men were not created equal. One look at a Trainee and his supervising cadet illustrated the reality of superiority, and its opposite.
The lack of conversation with or even much about the Trainees only enhanced the impact. The only discussion of Trainees I had ever heard among cadets was on the way out of the one and only briefing about them, when one cadet wondered out loud why anyone would ever stay on as a Trainee. When that small comment earned the cadet a month's worth of punishment marches, it was the last time I'd ever heard them mentioned, even in private.
A Trainee! Me! But what choice did I have? I could see nothing worse than having to face my father and my brother after leaving the academy. I sat motionless as I considered the option of staying as a virus or facing my father's wrath.
"Sir, is there nothing I can do other than that?" I asked.
"No, there is not," the Commandant replied, with an air of finality. "You can leave us, or you can stay on as a Trainee. If you choose to stay, you'll enter the Trainee Correction Program, and then return to live on campus next fall."
"P-p-program?" I asked, my voice quivering. "What program, sir?"
"If you want to stay here, then you must commit to the Trainee Correction Program," the Commandant said. "You will live in separate quarters with, and be closely supervised by, two Cadet Captains. It is similar to being a Candidate, but more rigorous. There will be nowhere to hide."
I had no choice. I couldn't face my father if I left Jackson. I took a deep breath and then spoke.
"I will take the program, sir," I said.
"You will 'take' nothing," he replied. "You will be admitted to the program only if I approve it. I want you to think about it, and then report back here in two days, at 1300."
Two days later, I sat in the Commandant's office.
"What will it be, then, Cadet Stingler?" he asked, getting right to the point. "I remind you that you are morally unfit to be a part of our corps, and that I have recommended that you apply for a discharge from this institution."
"Sir, I request to stay as a Trainee," I replied.
"You have thought about it," he asked.
"Yes sir," I said.
"And you are sure of it?" he asked.
"Yes sir," I replied.
"Neither I nor any other Commandant has ever encouraged a disgraced cadet to stay here as a Trainee," he replied, as he slid a piece of paper across his desk. I noticed that the surface was polished to a high shine. "This is why."
I picked up the paper and saw one paragraph.
It read: "I solemnly swear the following freely and without reservation, to be bound forever: I renounce any claim to Manhood, current, former, or future. I am not a Man. I was never a Man. I will never be a Man. Every Man is my superior. I will spend my life in the service to Men whose ranks I will never join. I will honor and obey Men, without question or reservation, in any manner that they might require. So help me God."
I felt myself gasping for air.
"This is required of every Trainee," he said. "If you stay as a Trainee, you will serve a full military career as an administrative adjutant to an officer who graduated Jackson as a cadet captain. He will be aware of the oath you swore. You will be subject to his absolute authority, and be bound to his service in whatever manner he chooses. He will supervise your life, down to the very last detail. Absolutely nothing will be yours, ever. I am always amazed that we have any Trainees, but some people are weak enough."
I remained silent, trying to take it in.
"One week from today, you will appear here at 1100. You will either sign your resignation from Jackson Military Academy, or you will again request to stay as a Trainee," he said. "If you request to stay, and if I approve it, you will put your left hand on the Bible, raise your right hand, and swear the Trainee's Oath. In the meantime, you will speak to no one about this matter. Am I clear?"
"Yes, sir," I said softly.
"Do you have any questions?" he asked.
I was too stunned to think, but suddenly one popped into my mind. They are going to take my manhood. Does it mean ...
"Sir," I stammered, "this says I give up my Manhood. Sir, are Trainees castrated?"
"You will lose any control over your testicles," the Commandant replied. "No Trainee has ever married."
I was too stunned to react.
"You will report here next Tuesday at 1100," he said. "We will speak again."
"Yes sir," I said.
"If I become a Trainee, will my father know?" I asked as I sat in the Commandant's office on the appointed day.
"So your father owns your Manhood?" the Commandant asked.
"Um ... um ... sir, I just wanted to know whether he would know," I said.
"Why?" he answered. "If he didn't know, would you then pretend you were a Man and a cadet graduate in good standing?"
"I ... I ... don't know, sir," I answered.
"Maybe not, but there is something I do know," the Commandant answered, with a smirk. "You are a liar, a fraud, and a coward."
"That's not how I meant it, sir," I said, pleading.
"Do you think you're the first cadet to whom I've given this choice?" the Commandant asked, with a stare.
"I ... I ... I haven't thought of it, sir," I said.
"Every Trainee is a Trainee by application," he replied. "Almost every cadet applies for discharge when I request it. Most of those who think they want to stay as a Trainee look at the Oath, sign their discharge papers, and run out of here as fast as they can. Then there are weaklings like you."
"Sir, is it wrong to ask questions?" I said. "I don't know what to do."
"Your father is aware of the choice you are being given," the Commandant said. "If you become a Trainee, every Jackson graduate with the rank of Cadet Sergeant and above will be informed of your status and be familiar with your Oath, including your father."
My mind reeled.
"I will give you another half-hour," he said, rising from his desk. I barely heard the door close above the sound of my heart pounding.
"Are you certain?" the Commandant asked.
"Yes sir," I said.
"With no reservations?"
"Yes sir," I replied. "I request that I be permitted to stay as a Trainee, sir. I accept the program, and will swear the Oath, sir."
"You will be at the beck and call of Men for the rest of your life," he said. "You will lose your claim to Manhood, and there will be no going back."
"Yes sir," I said, softly.
"I repeat my advice that you apply for a discharge from this institution," he replied. "Because of your family name, I will not stand in the way of your enlistment in any military branch. The Stingler military service tradition would be unbroken."
"It would mean nothing to my father, sir," I replied. "I request that I be permitted to stay as a Trainee, sir."
"Remember, it will be a life long status," he replied. "You will always be a Trainee, and never a Man. You will be under the direct control and absolute authority of a Jackson graduate. Nothing will ever be yours. Do you understand that?"
"Yes sir," I replied.
The Commandant rose.
"Go to lunch," he replied. "Have your last meal as a cadet, and return here at 1400."
"Yes sir," I said softly, before saluting and leaving.
The Commandant closed his office door, sat back down, and smiled. He punched a button, and told his secretary to have lunch for three delivered to his dining room. He opened a door and walked in. Tinley and Richards were seated. Brief pleasantries were exchanged, and then the Commandant got to the point.
"Presently, there are three Tops here," he said. "You have been selected to be the fourth and fifth. You don't have to accept, and if you do not, it will not count against you."
The cadets looked at each other, astonished at the honor.
"If you do accept, you will pledge to make combat arms your career. You will never again be a civilian. You will be part of an elite line of strong, hard Men, mentally and physically superior, that extends all the way back to the Roman Empire and before," he said. "To the cadets here, you'll be known as Tops, and as Captains. You will also be part of the Corps of Conquest, something spoken of only among Tops."
The seated cadets' eyes were wide.
"Us?" Big Dog said. "How did ..."
"How were you chosen?" the Commandant asked. "You were noticed when you were barely in high school. You have been prepared for this moment for years."
"What does it mean, sir?" Tommy asked. "Why wouldn't someone want to accept?"
"Members of this corps will be warriors forever," the Commandant said, casting an intense stare. "You will be Men among Men, destined to rule, and to enforce ownership of the weak by the superior. You will be called upon to perform actions that some will call cruel, yet you will always do so for a higher honor."
"Superior, sir?" Big Dog said, with a chuckle. "Will you tell me something I don't already know?"
"I accept, sir," Tommy said.
"So do I, sir," Big Dog said.
The Commandant chuckled.
"It never takes much convincing," he said. "When I was chosen at your age, it was like a light had gone on. But remember, fellas, this is for life. Cadet corporals are bound for three years, and cadet sergeants for eight. You will be bound forever."
"I accept, sir!" Tommy said again.
"I accept, sir!" Big Dog added.
"Very well, then," the Commandant replied.
"Sir, there has been a part of me that doubted whether I was enough of a hardass to make it here," Tommy said. "I've talked about it with my dad, and he's always told me that being steady is a sign of strength, and that you don't have to yell at people to be strong."
"Your father was right," the Commandant said. "Superior Men aren't identical. Each has something to add, and steadiness is indeed your greatest strength. Believe me, it's been noticed for longer than you realize."
Big Dog snorted.
"No disrespect, sir, but I can't believe anyone put that quality into my reports," he said.
"They didn't," the Commandant said, with a chuckle. "You, Sergeant Tinley, are fearless. But I think you will find steadiness you didn't know you possessed, just as Sergeant Richards isn't nearly as much of a worrier as he worries that he is."
"Sir, I've only worried that people think I'm too soft," Tommy said. "Anyone who thinks so is wrong, but I've never seen the point in being stupid just to prove I am tough. I guess I figured that it'd be their loss, sir."
"Sergeant Tinley, I hope you heard that," the Commandant said. "A thoughtful Man is sometimes the most confident Man you will find. And Sergeant Richards, I am certain that Sergeant Tinley will never find the limit to his courage."
The Commandant excused himself, and went back to his office.
Alone in the dining room, and cadets looked at each other. Big Dog was first to speak.
"Brothers forever!" he said.
"Damn right," Tommy answered. "Brothers forever!"
The Commandant returned from his office with a ceramic cup, and a silver knife. He sat back down at the head of the table, and stared at the cadets, one after the other.
"Hold out your right hands," he commanded, coldly.
They did so, and the Commandant sliced the middle finger on each cadet's outstretched hand, and then middle finger of his own. Their blood flowed into the cup, and mixed.
"Take the blood," the Commandant said, dipping his index finger into the cup. "Repeat after me: We, the Corps of Conquest, choose death before betrayal, forever."
Each of them repeated the words, in unison. The Commandant licked the blood from his finger, and the others followed. Silence followed, as the Commandant again stared into their eyes. At length, the Commandant spoke.
"Cadet Captains Tinley and Richards," he said. "The newest Tops at Jackson Military. Warriors forever!"
"Trainee Stingler is to be your first project," the Commandant said. "He is to be reduced, and then owned, both physically and mentally. I might add that his father knows what's in store for him."
"Yes sir," Tommy replied. "If his father was a Cadet Major, I would expect that, sir."
"Let's get to the details of Trainee Stingler's 'program,' and how it will proceed," the Commandant said, rising from his chair and motioning the cadets back to the office. He had wiped the cup and the knife clean, and placed them in a drawer in his desk. He told the cadets to sit, and punched the intercom button again.
"Carolyn, we're finished with lunch," he told his secretary. "When Cadet Stingler arrives at 1400, buzz me. Once you send him in, you can take off for the rest of the day."
"Thank you, colonel," she replied crisply.
The Commandant walked over to a closet and opened the door. He reached up to a shelf and brought down a small duffel bag.
"The weakling will be trained physically and mentally," the Commandant said. "The quarters you'll be occupying has been used for this purpose by the Corps of Conquest many times before. In the next six months, the the two of you will strip the weakling of his Manhood forever."
The Commandant explained the contents of the bag. There were some triangular plugs of hard rubber, for stretching the weakling's rectum. Tubes of K-Y jelly, for lubrication. A gag. Leather restraints. An enema bulb. The last item was a strap, consisting of a belt, split in two, attached to a handle.
"Whoa, Commandant!" Big Dog said, frowning. "What's this about his rectum?"
"First there is superiority, then there is conquest," the Commandant said. "There is no more effective means than the rectum. Every conqueror through the ages has known this, right up to the present day."
"The present day, sir?" Big Dog asked.
"In the second world war, the Germans did it to the Russians, and the Russians did it to the Germans, and the Japanese did it to everyone they met," the Commandant replied. "The Marines did it to the Japanese, the U.S. did it to the Germans. The Indians did it to the pioneers, and the Cavalry did it to the Indians. And it has been a disciplinary method within every effective army, as long as it's used correctly."
"But the Bible forbids queer shit, sir!" Big Dog said.
"The Bible says you shall not lie with man as you lie with woman," the Commandant said, sternly. "There is no contradiction with the Bible. The Corps of Conquest is not some queer social club."
"I suppose as long as it's a piece of rubber, sir," Big Dog answered.
"A conqueror's phallus is more effective than a piece of rubber, Captain Tinley," the Commandant answered.
"So Tops are butt fuckers, sir?" Big Dog asked, with a smirk.
"A Man's phallus is the most effective means of conquest, especially when used against inferior males," the Commandant answered. "If this is a problem for you, you can withdraw with no penalty. Of course, you will not mention your reason to anyone."
Tommy interrupted his comrade.
"Hold on a second, Big Dog. Just hold on and think!" he said. "Now look, you jammed the one guy after the fight in high school, and back on the ranch I once jammed a cowhand who needed it. The Commandant is right. Nothin' works better, and you damn well know it."
Big Dog paused, and rubbed his jaw thoughtfully.
"Well, yeah Tommy, now that you mention it," he said, his voice trailing off.
"I realize that it's not something you want to talk about, Captain Tinley," the Commandant said. "Yours was the act of a conqueror, as was Captain Richards's action. In the Corps of Conquest, it's merely refined. Nothing more."
Tommy smiled.
"Not a lot of Manhood there to strip from Stingler, sir, or to conquer," he said, chuckling softly.
"Ah yes, the little stump-dick," the Commandant said. The cadets exchanged astonished looks.
"See how much I know?" the Commandant said, with a laugh.
"Sir, so what's Stingler, some sort of girl?" Big Dog asked.
"No, he is much worse than that," the Commandant said. "He is a weakling, a coward, a fraud, and a disgrace to his father and his family. He is a conniving, disobedient little boy who tried to call himself a Man."
"Sir, I always felt sorry for him," Tommy said. "I wasn't even mad when Captain Tinley told him what he said about me. I laughed at it."
"I understand your reluctance, especially since you grew up with him," the Commandant said. "But I think you have come to realize his inferiority."
"Yes, sir, I have. Gave him every chance, and tried to help him along," Tommy said.
"The weakling will know his inferiority, carry it silently, and act on it, forever," the Commandant said. "He never should have come to us, and he should have accepted my invitation to leave. But he's requested to stay, and will accept the consequences."
The Commandant pointed toward the duffle bag.
"The weakling will need to be beaten, but this prison strap must be used carefully," the Commandant said. "When he returns this afternoon, I will show you. The strap is to be used only through his trousers, not on bare skin. A little goes a long way. No more than 10 strokes at first."
"So the idea is to make it hurt, but not to injure him, sir?" Tommy asked.
"Correct," the Commandant said, staring intently at each cadet, one after the other. "He is to be humiliated, not destroyed. Always remember that."
"Yes sir," the two cadets said. They spoke in unison, and they laughed when they realized it.
"The weakling is to have one owner," the Commandant continued. "This principle is handed down from Roman times. Ownership is a life-long affair. One Man, one weakling."
"Which one of us, sir?" Tommy asked.
"You, Captain Richards," the Commandant replied. "You are the one the weakling wanted to betray. To be owned by you will be particularly effective."
The Cadet Captains looked at each other.
"So what am I, the towel boy?" Big Dog asked, drawing the Commandant's hearty laugh. "All this talk about his asshole, but I'm not going to screw him anyway?"
"The owner will conquer the weakling, repeatedly in private, to establish ownership," the Commandant said. "Preparation for ownership is joint, and so is ongoing training."
"Yes sir!" Tommy said.
"Yes sir!" Big Dog added.
"One of you will be harsh and the other will be his friend," the Commandant continued. "Captain Tinley, you are to be hostile, seemingly on a hair trigger. Your job is to strike physical fear into the weakling. But remember: You are not to injure him."
"Yes sir!" Big Dog said.
"You will see me use the strap later," the Commandant continued. "Any bruises or welts must be entirely healed before using the strap again. Injury to the weakling will be viewed harshly, but the weakling must not know that you are working within that limit."
"Yes sir," Big Dog said.
"Captain Richards, you are to offer comfort, understanding, and interpretation," the Commandant said. "But just as Captain Tinley must refrain from injuring the weakling, you must remember that you are still his superior, and communicate this to him. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir, I think so," Tommy said. "Kind of complicated, sir."
"Each of your functions is equally important," the Commandant said, "but Captain Richards, yours might be more challenging. You are still a disciplinarian, yet your approval and comfort will be his lifeline. It will prepare him for ownership."
"Yes sir," Tommy said. "It's a responsibility."
"Exactly," the Commandant said. "You will own the weakling for life. Remember that."
"Yes sir," Tommy said.
"Neither of you will be alone," the Commandant said. "Over the next months, we will meet to discuss the weakling's training, and the other members of the Corps of Conquest will make themselves known to you. They can be a great help."
"Thank you, sir," Big Dog said.
"Same here, sir," Tommy said.
"The weakling is small and fragile," the Commandant said, with a smile. "Either of you could literally break the boy like a twig, but you will not do it. You must think carefully about what you're doing, while never appearing to hesitate."
"Yes sir," Big Dog said. "I have some thinking to do."
"I am going to show you the weakling's rules," the Commandant said. "Cadet Richards will present them, and Cadet Tinley will be the lead enforcer."
"Yes sir," Big Dog said.
The Commandant gave the list of rules to each cadet.
"Commit these to memory right away," he said. "Read him his rights later this afternoon, and then dictate everything to him in quarters and have him write them in his notebook. It's in the small desk in the common room. Have him make a copy for you, in the second notebook. You'll see."
"Yes sir," Tommy replied.
"He will be hurting after I strap him later on," so start him on half-runs for a couple of days. "Remember, don't strap him again until his bruises have healed, which should be within two or three days. Captain Tinley ..."
"Self-restraint, sir," Big Dog said, with a chuckle. "I understand, sir!"
The Commandant flashed a grin.
"I remember the Candidate's broken nose," he said, the grin replaced with a cold stare. "Nothing like that can happen here."
"Yes sir," Big Dog said. "I will definitely remember what you have told me, sir."
"The enema bulb and the plugs should be presented in an entirely non-sexual manner, as should the body shaving that you'll see in the rules," the Commandant said. "The weakling will likely become aroused, and that should be used against him. Your lack of arousal will an effective weapon as he is reduced."
"Yes sir," Big Dog replied.
"All of this has been handed down from the Romans," the Commandant said. "It is secret knowledge, never to be shared outside of the Corps of Conquest."
The new Tops nodded their assent.
"To the Corps!" the Commandant said, raising his right hand as if swearing an oath. "The Corps, and nothing but the Corps!"
"To the Corps!" the two cadets replied, again in unison, but this time without any smiles. "The Corps, and nothing but the Corps!"
The Commandant glanced up at the clock.
"The weakling's due back at 1400," he said. "He seemed very offended when you urinated on him. He's a fastidious little weakling, so you might start by having him piss on himself later on."
The cadets glanced at each other, smiling.
"Finally," the Commandant said, "your quarters have different sizes of furniture. Have the weakling use the short furniture, and sleep on a pad on the floor rather in a bed."
"Yes sir!" Big Dog said, with a broad smile.
The Commandant glanced at his watch.
"You've got 20 minutes before the weakling arrives," he said. "Read the rules and memorize them."
"Yes sir," Tommy said, and Big Dog followed. The Commandant rose and went into another room, and the cadets read in silence.
A minute before 1400, the Commandant entered the room.
"In memory?" he asked Tommy.
"Yes sir," he answered.
The intercom buzzed.
"Sir, Cadet Stingler has arrived," a female voice said.
"Have him wait for five minutes, then send him in," the Commandant replied.
"Any quick questions?" he said to the cadets. They shook their heads side to side. Shortly thereafter, there was a knock on the door.
"You may enter," the Commandant said. As Jimmy walked into the office, he initiated some trivial chit-chat with the Tops.
I walked into the Commandant's office to a shock to see Tommy, Big Dog, and the Commandant chatting it up.
"These are Captains Tinley and Richards, the newest Top Cadets at Jackson Military," the Commandant said. "I have briefed them about your request to stay on as a Trainee. They will be your training supervisors, and will make your Oath come true. You will consider their rank and authority, relative to yours, to be identical to mine. Is that clear?"
I hesitated, as my mind contemplated the horrors to come.
"Is that clear?"
"Y-y-y-yes sir."
"The three of you will move to separate quarters in a remote section of the grounds, to facilitate the intensive training and concentration that this program requires. Do you understand?"
"Y-y-y-yes sir."
"Captains Tinley and Richards, who will be named Top Cadets tomorrow, will set your daily schedule and activities, and you will follow all of their commands without hesitation. Do you understand?"
"Y-y-y-yes sir."
"As a formality, you will sign an agreement to participate in the Corrective Training Program," he said, coldly. "You will also state to Captains Tinley and Richards your apology for the lies you told to me about them. In your apology you will specifically acknowledge having lied about them. Do you understand?"
"Y-y-y-yes sir."
The Commandant handed me a contract certifying my voluntary participation in the Corrective Training Program, and my permanent status as a Trainee. I signed.
"Now apologize to these men for your lies."
"Tommy and Big Dog ..."
"You will not refer to these Men in that manner," the Commandant snapped. "I told you that their rank and authority, relative to yours, is to be identical with mine. What do you call me?"
"I call you 'Sir,' sir," I said.
"You will call these Men either 'Sir' and 'Captain Tinley' and 'Captain Richards' at all times," he said. "Now apologize to these Men for your lies."
"Captain Tinley, sir, I apologize for my lies. Captain Richards, sir, I apologize for my lies."
Big Dog was the first to speak.
"I accept your apology, Jimmy," he said softly, with a hint of mockery in his voice and smile. "You have made a good first step."
"Same here," Tommy said. "There is a lot of work to do. We'll take good care of you, of that you can be certain."
The Commandant spoke again.
"I think it would be appropriate for you to thank me for offering you this opportunity, and especially to thank these Men for their willingness to be your trainers, don't you?" he asked. It wasn't a question.
"Yes sir," I said to the Commandant. "Thank you, sir, for allowing me into this program. And thank you, Bi ... Captain Tinley, and Captain Richards, for agreeing to be my training supervisors."
With that, my downfall was complete. I was now Big Dog and Tommy's property.