Chapter 4 : Unclothed, Undies, Uniforms . . . Security
After what seemed to the recruits to be only a few hours of sleep they were rudely woken at the ungodly hour (to them) of 05.00 to begin the first day of their new lives. Before anyone had an opportunity of getting out of bed, the door crashed open and a fully dressed, ready to go Corporal Trafford burst into the room, yelling at the top of his voice, "W-A-A-A-KEY! W-A-A-A-KEY! Hands off cocks! On with socks! MOVE IT!"
"What the fuck's going on? Is something on fire or what?" grumbled a blond tousle haired youth, sporting a mouth-wateringly sizable hard cock leaking precum and scratching his scrotum to make sure his balls were still there.
Moans, groans and much bad language filled the air as the recruits began to realise they had no choice. They were in the Air Force now and they were just beginning to realise it! Corporal Trafford proceeded to stride down the centre of the barrack room, grabbing hold of bedding as he passed by, pulling it off the beds on to the floor in an action that revealed a large number of prime morning hard-ons and naked bums in the process. Voices were raised in protest but the corporal ignored them and continued his manoeuvres. As the recruits struggled to their feet, picking up the first bit of clothing they could find to cover themselves and regain a measure of decency, they were being given their first indication of what life was going to be like for the next several weeks. When they were all standing to attention and decently clothed, the corporal resumed his monologue.
"Right, you lot, listen and digest. You will go and shower, shave and then dress yourselves ready for a busy day. Jeans and tank tops will be fine so no dinner suits are required. I shall return at 06.15 to march you down to the Mess for breakfast. Now that don't give you much time, so get a move on. By the way, the Senior Man for this hut will be Senior Aircraftman 187 Deighton Cunningham. He has already achieved promotion as a result of being in the Air Cadets. He will be responsible to me for you lot, so treat him gently. Like you, he's a stranger to all this and he has already found out, as you all will, that there is a big difference between being in the Cadets and full time adult servicemen. Go on, don't waste time looking at me like a herd of dozy cows! MOVE!" With that, he turned round and stomped back to his bunk.
The occupants of the hut were galvanised into frantic action and realised that they would have to put a spurt on to get ready to march down to the Mess in time to grab some brekkie. If you or I had been able to sneak into that ablutions block we would have been confronted with 40 swinging cocks, 40 hanging pairs of tight balls and 40 taut youthful arses. These young men had arrived last night still with youth's natural modesty - within less than twenty-four hours that had disappeared and they were all rushing around to shower, shave and attend to other early morning functions, without any sign of the embarrassment or shyness the casual observer would expect simply because they were on display to other naked young men who could see what everyone had between their legs! "After all," said one bolder than the others, "we're all men and we've all got the same equipment, so what's to be shy of, eh?" No doubt, quite a few of them had their own ideas of what there was to be shy of and were secretly hoping that in due course, they would be very shy with the possibility of one of those big dicks exploring deep and hard inside their arses!
They soon found themselves outside the barrack hut forming up to march to the Mess. Corporal Trafford appeared at exactly 06.15 and they set off at double time. When they were dismissed outside the Mess there was a mad scramble to get inside for their first meal of the day. While they were stuffing themselves with food, an officer appeared accompanied by a sergeant toting the inevitable clipboard. He got the men to stop their chatter and clatter, and handed over to the officer. He was surprisingly young in appearance and polite when he addressed them, having been briefed these lads were still technically civilians and would not officially become 'airmen' or 'recruits' until they had taken the Oath of Allegiance. He began by welcoming them to RAF Lavington and proceeded to outline what lay in store for them in the following days.
The outcome was that they spent the next 48 hours or so going through unimportant trivial archaic military procedures probably dating back to the Battle of Omdurman. They also had to complete endless reams of repetitive paper work. They were hardly given enough time to feed and sleep, clean and polish their barrack room and other interminable activities which had doubtless been dreamt up by the NCOs which also appeared to be completely pointless. There were seemingly endless examinations of their physical fitness, the most usual of these tests involved the sudden appearance of a medic in his white coat and stethoscope hanging round his neck. He would line them up, walk slowly up and down the line, make his choice and then put a couple of fingers underneath a man's balls, tell him to cough and gently tickle the recruit's scrotum as he removed his fingers. When he had made his notes he would disappear as suddenly as he had materialised. Nobody complained about this as most of them were about to endure at least three haircuts which would give them the shaven bald headed look they had noted on other squads of recruits shortly after their arrival.
It came as a great relief to them when Corporal Trafford lined them up outside the hut on the third afternoon and told them they would be marched - they had to march at double time everywhere they went - to the Clothing Stores the following day. He described it as being a "fucking big warehouse" in a vast converted hangar which had originally been used to store inflated barrage balloons towards the end of World War 1. They were to wear only the minimum of clothing that morning as they would be receiving their first uniform issue and would be required to strip once they reached the hangar. A number of sly glances were exchanged when the corporal mentioned "stripping" and amongst them was DC. He had had his eye on a good looking youth occupying the bed space closest to his own. Arnie Waghorn seemed to be very friendly and chatty and DC had been keeping an eye on him; he had noticed certain tell-tale glances from the youth at the well filled pouch of DC's underpants. Corporal Trafford finished his monologue with a dire warning that if there were any signs of anyone getting an erection during that procedure then they would be in BIG TROUBLE!
Inside the huge cavernous hangar, they found line upon line of trestle tables with piles of air force blue jackets, trousers, greatcoats, berets or forage caps, stacks of white vests, underpants, socks, woollen gloves, a garment known as "long johns" which were a kind of combined vest and long pants covering the wearer's body from just below his neck down to his ankles and also had a padded pouch in the crotch. There were the usual dirty remarks when the men saw this and several of them declared they would die rather than wear a long john. On separate tables at the far end of the hangar were heaps of camouflage shirts, jackets, trousers, rough khaki socks and various other accoutrements needed to complete this part of the issue. This obviously drew forth more uncouth remarks and filthy jokes from men. These garments were, in fact, modelled on surviving wartime issue and were still being issued to new recruits to avoid the Ministry losing money on items which still had a life. It was freezing cold in that vast space and standing behind the tables were men in uniform blowing on their fingers to get them warm, their breath hanging like a miasma in the air. At the top of each table stood a sergeant, complete with his inevitable clipboard. The recruits were made to line up and DC discovered that theirs was not the only hut being kitted out that day. There must have been close on two hundred young men, freezing their balls off and being made to stand about in nothing but their underpants. DC wondered if anyone would be sporting a hard-on today!
Eventually, one of the sergeants brought everyone to attention and having laboriously made sure the occupants of the various huts were all in the correct line, several of the Stores airmen went along each line handing out cardboard boxes. A sergeant barked at one intrepid youth who queried what the boxes were for, "What the fuck do you think they're for, dimwit? No, they are not for your uniforms but to put your old civilian clothes in ready for storage." At this a murmur ran through the assembled ranks and the sergeant continued. "Right then, anyone wearing coloured or patterned knickers get 'em orf NOW! If you're wearin' sensible white ones keep 'em on." There were a number of louder protests at this but these were ignored and the offenders had to remove their jazzy undies and stand there in the nude to await the arrival of someone who would begin issuing them with new clothes. Some of the other guys were giving DC openly admiring looks at his wedding tackle. DC could not tell if this was because he was Senior Man or because he was one of them standing naked. He and Arnie were standing next to each other and he was well aware that Arnie was eyeing him up and down. This open admiration of his tackle by Arnie was becoming difficult to ignore and his cock was gently beginning to swell. While they were all waiting for the next thing to happen, some of the NCO's took to walking along the lines pointing out to each other those men who were sporting partial or full-on erections so that everyone present knew who the 'offenders' were. Shit, now that was embarrassing!
One of them who was pointed out by more than one NCO was a guy named Shane Sadowski, from an American-Polish family. He was lined up a couple of rows in front of DC and a little to the left, so our boy had a perfect view of him and his fine large cock projecting in front of him. His father had come to England during WW2 as a GI and had never gone back to the States. He married an English woman from Leicester and six months later she gave birth to a baby boy. Shane had inherited his father's good looks, height and eye catching sexual equipment. Everything about his physical appearance was in good shape. His back supported the great 'V' shape of an athletic guy, from his broad shoulders down to his small waist just above one of the firmest arses DC had yet seen. He could not make out the colour of Sadowski's hair as a result of the savage barbering they had all been subjected to. DC murmured to himself, "Fuck, I wish he'd turn round so I could judge the colour of his hair from his pubes - and judge how big he'll be when he gets a hard-on." He thought no one else had heard him but he was wrong. A certain young man named Arnie Waghorn had heard him and was quietly grinning to himself as he thought, "So, our senior man's one of us, is he. I'll try him and the Yank when we settle down."
The recruits eventually finished their first uniform issue parade, picked up the boxes containing their civilian clothes and endeavoured to quick march in double time back to their huts. This heralded the first time they were to experience the Drill Instructors really going bananas on them. The frosty air was filled with loud voices almost screaming streams of abuse at the struggling lines of men clutching flimsy over-full boxes containing piles of uniforms and trying to keep in step, all at the same time. It seemed to be impossible for the recruits to stay in step or keep their balance on the wet paths. However, no one fell or strained too much and eventually everyone double timed it to the Mess for the evening meal, afterwards spending time before Lights Out sorting themselves and their lockers. When Lights Out rattled gratingly over the Tannoy, everyone was already in bed and soon settled down for the night. DC and Arnie lay in their bunks, facing each other. They were both aware they were sporting throbbing erections and DC could not resist giving himself a decent wank under the bed clothes. He quickly realised Arnie was doing the same, so he pushed his bedding down to give his big erection plenty of space and continued masturbating for all he was worth. To his amazement, Arnie did the same and almost simultaneously they both dumped their loads on to their sheets. They lay quiet with silly grins on their faces, licked their sticky fingers clean and when they had recharged they grinned at each other, whispered "Good night" and fell into a dreamless sleep.
The next morning saw the start of their training. Much to their surprise, the recruits had finished their early chores, had breakfast and were then told to remain in their hut for a visit from their officer, the one about their own age who had been so pleasant when he had first appeared in the Mess and given his short briefing on what was likely to happen on the first day. The morning wore on but there was no sign of anyone, officer or NCO, until it was almost lunch time. Suddenly the door to the hut banged open and Corporal Trafford came in accompanied by three Drill Instructors (known as DI's) and the officer following them.
"Right, you lot," Trafford growled, "you start your training as of now. This is Flying Officer Norman Goodbody who will be your officer throughout the time you spend here. He is going to brief you in some detail about the new, revised training schedule you will be involved in. Listen most carefully, as there will be no time to go through the whole rigmarole again. Over to you, sir."
"Thank you, Corporal Trafford." Flying Officer Goodbody waited until the corporal had left then continued. "I want you all to sit down on the floor in a circle, as close together as you can."
The men looked rather puzzled at this but orders is orders, particularly when you've only been in the Services for three or four days. They all sat down as requested but the space was so constricted they had to sit with legs spread apart with the guy in front between them. It was quite a squeeze and soon developed into a case of the guy in front's arsehole pressing against the swollen cock of the guy behind - or vice versa, if you prefer. Flying Officer Goodbody said nothing and the three DI's took up positions outside the circle. The officer took up a fourth position where he could be seen by everyone. He began by giving them some things that they had expected to hear and a bit about completing their recruit training to "avoid suspicion" from other Flights. He then gave them details of how their new, revised training programme would work out. It was towards the end of his speech that he sprang his surprise on them.
". . . and at night you will have from 21.00 to 21.30 to shower, write letters or take care of your uniforms. This is not normally how the Air Force trains recruits but you are going to be part of a unique experiment. HQ Training & Education Command want me to explain the background and rules before training begins. First of all, you have to know something similar is going on right now in the Army, the Navy and the Marines. As the boffins at the MoD were making their background security risk checks on all of you, their investigators discovered that, without exception, all of you have had more than one experience of having sexual relations with other males." He paused, waiting for an explosion of denials and threats, but the men had been stunned into silence by what Goodbody had just said. They remained waiting to hear more. "This Flight will now be known to all as 'A' Flight Special. You will not, under any circumstances, tell your families, friends outside or any one else what 'A' Flight Special does. For the next few weeks you will be treated as and act as ordinary recruits being trained in the usual basic Service procedures. You will understand the reasons for all this high security when I tell you that this Flight is to be trained to determine if actively gay men can truly make as strong, as valuable and worthwhile a contribution to the Services as heterosexual men."
At this point, the expressions on the faces of the men sitting in their circle were priceless; the DI's, however, maintained their standard grim frowns and hard eyes boring down on these "erks". The officer waited for a moment or two to allow the recruits time to absorb what he had just revealed, then picked up his speech again. "What I am about to tell you is very personal and must not, I repeat, must not under any circumstances be revealed to outside inquisitive press reporters or the like. I also am gay so I can understand your confusion at this moment. This is against all you may have suspected about being gay in the Forces, so forget all the old wives tales and hear what I am saying. These three Drill Instructors will be your teachers as if you were a standard intake of recruits. They also are actively gay men. I see some of you are beginning to grasp what I am about to reveal, but first a little bit of ancient history. It was a strong belief amongst the Ancient Greeks and subsequently the Romans that their soldiers would be better warriors if they formed tighter bonds with each other, the prime example being the Seven of Thebes. This is going to be the foundation of everything designed to test you. All of your training will be the same as anyone else's training at this unit, with one exception. During that half an hour every night when you can write home, iron your shirts for the morning, or whatever else you do in that precious free time, or after Lights Out, you may if you so desire form closer relationships. Myself and the Drill Instructors will, of course, be back in our own Messes out of your way. We will not wish to know who does what to whom. Do you understand?"
A murmur of "Yes, sir" ran round the circle. "Now, I have had my say so I will leave you to begin making these barracks into a special place for special men training for special duties. I will leave you in the capable hands of the DI's. Please cooperate with them, they have their orders as well so I do not want to hear of any problems. One rule you must always remember: if you fancy having sex with one of your bunk mates, you must leave it until after Lights Out. I hope you will quickly settle down and enjoy your elevated status. One last thing, is SAC Deighton Cunningham present?"
"Present, sir," came DC's voice. Flying Officer Goodbody went over to him, looked into his eyes, smiled and said, "Fine. I think you will do the job perfectly."
He swung round to the group of dazed men who were struggling to get to their feet and trying to make sense of what they had been told. "May I have everyone's attention for one moment longer?" They all stood still, wondering what the fuck he was going to say now. "SAC Cunningham was made Senior Man when you first arrived here. Under instructions from Command HQ and as a result of his excellent Air Cadet record, he is now to be given the rank of Acting Corporal. He will be second in charge of this Hut as of now, whenever Corporal Trafford is engaged on other duties. He will also be a close liaison man between myself, Corporal Trafford and all of you. He will be expected to carry out the duties and responsibilities of the rank of corporal and you will address him as such when in the official presence of a superior. Finally, the success or failure of this experiment will be dependent upon your accepting the changes in your training which, if successful, will remove once and for all any stigma about being gay. Hopefully, you will be making an historic change to the ethos of military behaviour. I will now leave you to get yourselves sorted out. Corporal Cunningham has already been given his instructions for the next few days and he will take over when I leave. Thank you for listening to me and. . ." Whatever else he had intended to say was drowned in the massive cheer that went up as they all crowded round a rather shaken DC. Someone yelled, "Let's all go down the NAAFI tonight and get blathered, eh lads?"
"Not if you wanna keep your balls, son," came the loud, gruff voice of one of the DI's, who had slipped back in as the officer had slid out. "You've all got to have an early evening meal and then . . . the 'ard work begins. Don't it, Corporal Cunningham?"
"It certainly does, sergeant. OK, boys, settle down. I'm not going to be throwing my weight around like a RAF copper but we've got to get to work to make this place shine. Our first test is going to be a full Commanding Officer's inspection in a couple of days time, so it may take all night but it has got to be done. Let's make a start, OK?"
Next: Chapter 5 - Getting to Work