Tighty whiteys?
Sure, I would look discretely at my fellow soldiers changing in the shower areas and would happen to ‘glance’ at the one or two soldiers who woke up with a “woody” in the early mornings (our average wake-up call time was around 4-5am)…..what amazed me was that these same men, with their hard-ons, would prance around the barracks floor in their “whitey-tighty” underwear, with their genitals saluting anyone who passed by.
I wondered if they were interested in same sex “exploration” like I was, but soon realized that the piece of jewelry glistening on their left hands against the glow of the morning sun was their wedding bands. Of course, these same men with their flopping meats would make a comment about how horny they were (as they grabbed their crotches) and whined about how they longed for the “honey pot.”
The Honey Pot? It took me a bit of time to realize that a honey pot was a reference to female genitalia. I was envisioning this same man sticking his cock into a jar of honey. What a “sticky” situation that would be!
Heck, the only time I tried not to look at the men around me was when we were in the showers. I did not want to become aroused because on men, their level of arousal is quite visible and I did not want to get harassed by anyone.
Besides, our constant training coupled with our intense non-stop physical fitness regimen ensured that once you were in bed, you would pass out out of exhaustion (maybe it was done on purpose by the drill sergeant team). You also learned to sleep whenever you could because the drill sergeant team began routine (almost nightly) drills where someone would walk onto the barracks floor with a stick and a metal trash can lid. All of a sudden, you would awaken to the “clang, clang, clang” or the “bang, bang, bang” of the stick against the lid. I would wake up in a panic, look at my GreenPeace watch and notice that it was about 0415 hours.
Many times I’d wake up scared shitless, wondering if a war broke out. Almost instantaneously, I would scan the room and watch other soldiers as they scrambled out of bed in a hurried fashion with their ‘meat’ flinging all over the place. I could have sworn on several occasions I saw a penis head pop out briefly…..ahhh, the good old days!
It seems like military training for a new recruit was like a regular civilian job. Training consisted of an early wake up call (normally between 4-5am, PT (physical fitness), quick shower, quick breakfast, formation by 0800 hours (8am), and at the training site (they were called “ranges”) by 9am.
Of course, 0800 formation was the first point where drill sergeants would ensure your uniform was crisp and clean, your combat boots were polished and the front tip was shiny like a mirror, and that you were clean-shaven, without a hint of stubble.
For me, as a slightly hairy guy, I can shave around 0600 and start showing “peach fuzz” on my neck and throat by 0900.
As luck would have it, one day I missed a spot on my face near my chin as I was shaving in a hurried manner.
My ‘favorite’ drill sergeant, Sergeant B, walked over to me as I stood in formation. I was sure I was in compliance: my uniform was spotless and creased in all the right places, my boots were mirror-like, and my stance was as sharp as a hot knife cutting through butter.
As he pulled out a playing card (with my luck it was probably the “Queen” of Hearts or something), Sergeant B held the card in front of my face and suddenly ran it across my chin, making me feel like I was the wheel on Wheel of Fortune that was just spun and was clicking away as it passed the dial (only I wish I could land on a nice prize).
At first thought, I could have sworn Sergeant B was trying to cut my jugular vain. But I soon realized, he found stubble.
Sergeant B, in true form, looked at me with his piercing (and evil) brown eyes and yelled out to the entire formation “Pussy forgot to shave! What do y’all think about that?” There was an erie silence as no one said a word nor looked in my direction. “Pussy, what do you think your punishment should be?” I could feel sweat forming on my brow. In basic training you soon realize that responding and not responding to drill sergeants would result in punishment irregardless. I tried not to flinch as the brim of his brown hat hit my army cap. “Pussy. ARE YOU DEAF?” Almost immediately I responded “No, Drill Sergeant!”.
Sergeant B (I assume sensing my panic) said “As punishment, DROP! All of you DROP!!!! DROP! Give me 50! Come-on! Don’t make me double it to 100! You can thank Pussy later personally!!”
My heart was beating so fast coupled with my tiring arms. I was pumping push-ups so fast I thought I was going to pass out. I hated that man! Now I was sure he had a small dick! He enjoyed taking his penis-envy out on new recruits, using his military power to control us. Did’nt he know who I was? Of course he did. I was “Pussy” to him.
The interesting thing was, after we did our push-ups and returned to the barracks that evening, no one harassed me. No one heckled or made a comment about the “extra exercises” awarded to them on my behalf. I was expecting a few fist fights that night, maybe fight off a late night “soap party”. But nothing happened.
And the next morning, I resumed crotch-watching as the banging of the metal trash can lid rang in my ears (Sergeant B was next to my bed and gave me a “personal” wake-up call).
1 Comment
April 20, 2009 at 9:30 pm
Hi nice blog
I can see a lot of effort has been put in.