Fort Lenordwood, Missouri was hot as hell in the spring, and even hotter in the summer which happened to be the time that Jensen Ackles arrived for basic training (4 page)

Kenneth just smiled. “I joined because I'm Major Robert Roslin's son and I fucking hate the old man. I decided instead of being an officer I was going to be an enlisted man and give my father the finger as we march past,” he admitted. “That and I didn't want to hear how I fucking got promoted because of who my daddy was. I know I let y'all think I was all about Daddy, but not really. I don't get why I did that the first day.”

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Patrick looked at Kenneth. “You were scared. It's easy to fall back onto the things we know when we're scared.”

“What's your story, Patrick?” Brendon asked, quietly.

“It was either stay, kill my father and go to prison, or join the military. I chose the military. Killing in the name of your country is better than killing your father because he was an abusive bastard.”

“You’re gay, Ryan?” Brendon asked.

“Yeah.” He sighed, waiting for Brendon to say something stupid.

“That's cool. At least Kenneth and Patrick won't have to fight with you over the girls. I think you'd win.”

Everyone looked at Brendon and then burst into laughter.

“LIGHTS OUT!”

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The men sighed and turned out the lights. A few minutes after the lights dimmed soft sobbing could be heard from Brendon's bed. No one said anything but if they were to check the other three men, they would’ve found their eyes were as wet as Brendon's.

***

The next morning all four battle buddies went out to the exercise field and met SSG.

Phillip Grabowski. He seemed slightly different today. For one, he was dressed in PT clothing and Ryan thought there wasn't another man who filled out the clothing more perfectly. And, two, he was actually grinning.

“So, Gandhi, Rosy-Ass, Furry and Freckles, you showed up. Color me impressed,”

Phillip said.

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He began to lead them through stretching exercises. Once he figured they were warmed up enough he took them on a short run. It wasn't nearly as bad as Ryan thought it was going to be.

At the end of the run they walked for a bit.

“What you four did was what I wanted the whole platoon to do,” Phillip said, suddenly.

“I'm proud of the fact that you four actually realized that the man next to you is dependent on you for their survival.” He stopped, causing all four to stop with him. “Now, head back to the barracks and get dressed. The Platoon will be back in forty-five minutes. Blouse your sleeves today. It's going to be hot as a motherfucker.” With that said he took off back toward the area where the platoon was out and shouting about 'Liking and loving it.'

All four men blinked in surprise, and none of them talked on the way back to their bay.

***

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Everyone was standing in formation when Drill Sergeant Grabowski called them to attention. “Toad, front and center!”

Justin looked around but quickly did as he was told. He stood in front of Phillip and frowned when the Drill called Ryan up with them.

“After last nights’ piss poor performance and the inability to control your squad you’re demoted. Freckles, you're the new squad leader.” He ripped off the band around Justin's arm and fastened it onto Ryan's. “Dismissed.”

Both men walked back to the formation a little stunned. Ryan didn't want to be squad leader, and Justin was pissed that Ryan was squad leader.

“RIGHT FACE!” Drill Sergeant Grabowski called. The platoon turned as one.

“Forward, MARCH!”

They started on their left and began to march across the quad.

On the second step Phillip began to call the cadence.
“Momma, momma, can't you see
what the Army's done to me.”
His voice was powerful. It sent scary chills down Ryan's arms. It 51

carried way over their formation and into others. Ryan believed that Phillip 's voice was better for calling cadence than any drill Sergeant's voice on the post. He wanted to look around and see what others felt when they heard their senior Drill Sergeant calling the cadence, but didn't.

Instead he just answered back, the way he'd been taught.

“Momma, momma, can't you see what the Army's done to me.” Every voice rose as they echoed the drill's call.

It was a beautiful thing to hear all those voices join as one. It was loud and proud. Their flag was being carried in front, proclaiming all who saw them to be C3/10. They WANTED

people to know who they were.

“Momma, momma, can't you see what the Army's done to me,”
Phillip repeated. Yeah, Ryan could easily listen to the man call cadences all day long.

“Momma, momma, can't you see what the Army's done to me.”

“They took away my faded jeans. Now I'm wearing Army greens.”

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Ryan was seriously starting to question his sanity. He really..
really
wanted to hear that voice whispering extremely dirty things to him.

“They took away my faded jeans. Now I'm wearing Army greens.”

When they got to the chow hall, they were dismissed and filed in, swiping their soft caps off their heads as they entered the building for breakfast.

***

After morning chow, they were marched to the armory. They were finally getting their M16s. Everyone was giddy about that fact. They had spent the first two weeks in class rooms learning everything under the sun. They learned military protocol, the correct way to tell time and the Army alphabet.

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It seemed the Army had a new way to do everything. Ryan had some trouble with the whole twenty-four hour clock but with Patrick's help he had it nailed perfectly. Brendon had a bitch of a time with the ranks but with Ryan's help he caught up. Patrick had problems with the PT test but Brendon and Kenneth had helped him with that. They found they could do damn near anything as long as they all worked together. Even Grabowski complimented them on their teamwork. Justin had dropped out, right after he had been stripped off his squad.

But now they were on their way to pick up their weapons and every man was damn excited about it. When they reached the place, King stopped them and Connelly strolled into the dirty gray building.

He came out with an M16 and stood before them. “This, Privates, is the most important part of your uniform. You'll fucking sleep with it, eat with it and shit with it. It is called your weapon. Not your piece and if I hear any one of you motherfuckers calling it a gun, I'll kick your fucking ass so fast it will make your momma's head swim.” He grabbed his crotch and said,

“This is my fucking gun.” Then he held the M16 up. “This is my motherfucking weapon. Got it?”

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Everyone answered in affirmation. They marched single file into the building. As they came out each man had a huge smile on his face. They were gonna get to shoot something!

Ryan carried his M16 out with his cleaning kit and sighed happily. He actually felt like a soldier now. Patrick came out behind him.

“I have a gun! No one would believe this back home.” Patrick laughed. It died on his lips when he heard an unearthly boom.

“GUN?!”

“Fuck.” Patrick's smile fell as he turned slowly. Standing five feet away, Drill Sergeant Connelly looked downright murderous.

“Sorry, Drill Sergeant Connelly. My weapon, I have a weapon.”

That didn't please Connelly, not one bit. His brown round came dangerously close to the top of Patrick's head. “What in the fuck did I say about your fucking weapon?”

“It's a weapon, not my gun, Drill Sergeant Connelly!”

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“That's right. Turn and face your platoon!”

Ryan didn't even want to know what was going to happen now.

Drill Sergeant Connelly leaned close to Patrick and Ryan could see Patrick's eyes widen.

He didn't have to wait long to see what Connelly was going to do with Patrick.

Patrick ran back up the steps, and stood right before the entire platoon. He had his M16

in one hand, and his dick in the other. “THIS IS MY WEAPON!” he shouted, holding the M16 up high. “This is my gun!” He took his dick in his hand and shook it in front of them.

“This is for killing.” The M16 surged up, again. “And this is for fun!” He shook his cock again.

That happened over and over again. Until even Ryan blushed like crazy.

When Drill Sergeant Connelly dismissed Patrick he came running over. “Dude, I damn near masturbated in front of everyone,” he hissed in disgust, face red.

Ryan snickered but didn't say anything.

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“Now, we're all men here. I want you to name this beautiful piece of machinery. When I come to you, you better have a fucking name!” King shouted.

Ryan blinked. A name? Holy shit. He thought hard on it. He would call it Phillip, but that was just too fucking weird.

“Bertha,” Kenneth shouted. Fucking Kenneth named his ‘Bertha.’ He couldn't wait to hear Brendon's. King gave Kenneth some shit about it but left quickly.

“Sophia,” Brendon answered. Sophia? Brendon named his fucking weapon ‘Sophia?’

“Furry, you realize that your girl is probably fucking your buddy Jody instead of waiting for her piss-ant boyfriend, right?” King cackled. They had found Brendon's weak spot and all three of them took pleasure in turning it on the blond.

He came up to Patrick and looked at him seriously. “Alright, Gandhi, let me hear it.”

Ryan was getting more nervous by the minute. He wasn't sure what the hell he was going to name the fucking thing.

“Terminator,” Patrick replied easily.

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“Now, that is an out'fucking'standing name. Gandhi, that's fucking great. I like it!' King didn't stay long with Patrick.

“Well, Freckles, what's it gonna be?”

Ryan froze. He hadn't thought of a name yet. He was panicking. Then it came. “I will call him George,” he blurted out.

King blinked a few times; his mouth opened and shut. Then he looked at Connelly, whose mouth was hanging open. Kenneth wasn't nearly as reserved and burst into laughter, quickly followed by several more guys.

“You will call him ‘George’,” Sergeant King said. “Fucking ‘George?’ Like from Loony Toons?”

Ryan's face turned bright red. “Umm, no, Drill Sergeant King. George. Like…George Patton.” Score one for US History class.

William gave Ryan a skeptical look but moved on. Ryan let out the breath he was holding. Patrick leaned over and whispered in his ear. “From Loony Toons, right?”

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“Fuck yes,” Ryan muttered back.

***

Their first BRM, which stood for Basic Rifle Marksmanship class, was boring as hell.

Ryan was having problems with the whole cleaning thing. He had cleaned his weapon at least five fucking times. Each time, fucking Grabowski swore he saw dirt in the barrel. Ryan didn't see any dirt. Hell, it looked pretty fucking clean to him.

They were sitting outside next to their barracks, trying hard to clean the bitch the way Drill Sergeant Grabowski ordered but so far no one, not even Patrick, had been able to get them clean enough.

Ryan took one last look and walked up slowly toward SSG Grabowski.

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Grabowski took one look at Ryan and burst into loud, obnoxious laughter. “Freckles, you think you have it now?” he asked, looking very amused.

That look gave Ryan pause. Whenever the drill looked like that someone was about to get smoked. “Yes, Drill Sergeant Grabowski!” he answered. At least, he hoped it was ready. He had a feeling that it wasn't going to be a pretty scene if it wasn't.

Phillip reached for it and Ryan accidentally let it go too soon. The weapon crashed to the ground. His green eyes widened in horror. Oh shit!

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Ryan could see the storm brewing on Grabowski’s face. He was so fucking fucked, that he would go down in history as the most fucked-up fuck in the platoon.

Even as he thought it he wanted to snicker. Who knew you could actually use fuck in so many creative ways?

“What in the blue fuck, Private Gracin!” Phillip thundered, rising to his full height. He fucking towered over Ryan, and Ryan was over six feet tall.

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“I..” Ryan didn't have anything to say to that. Seriously, not one damn word to say. How exactly do you answer a question like that, especially knowing that you were about to be killed?

“You what? You just realized that you were a fuck up that just dropped his fucking baby on the ground, and hasn't even picked the motherfucker up yet?” Phillip snarled.

His baby? The M16 was his baby? Holy fuck, it was increasingly clear that Grabowski was fucking insane. Ryan watched in horror as the drill picked up the gu..er.. weapon and cradled it like a fucking BABY!!!

“It's okay, tiger. This little fuck won't abuse such a fine piece of United States Army equipment ever again. Drill Sergeant Connelly, watch the rest of the fuck-ups. Private Gracin and I are going to have a little alone time.”

Dread filled Ryan. He was going to have ALONE time with Drill Sergeant Grabowski.

And Ryan pretty much doubted that it would be filled with hugs and kisses. The last time Brendon had 'alone' time with Grabowski, the little blond had come back crying and shaking so hard that everyone was worried he was going to have a nervous breakdown.

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Patrick and Kenneth were watching. He could see Patrick grimacing and Kenneth whistling. The bastard was probably whistling “Taps.”

He knew it was bad because the Staff Sergeant hadn't handed him his M16 back. God!

Grabowski was going to kill him with his own fucking gun.

Ryan trailed after the over sized Drill, mentally making out his will. He would give his socks and underwear to Brendon because the guy was constantly losing his. His deodorant and toiletries would go to Kenneth ‘cause the bastard never smelled right. And to Patrick, his obvious best friend, he would leave his entire stash of M&Ms and other assorted snacks he had managed to hide.

When they were far enough away to satisfy the bastard he turned suddenly. Ryan snapped to 'attention' and stared straight ahead. He was so fucked.

Grabowski practically threw the weapon into Ryan's hands. “Over your head, Private,”

he barked.

Ryan lifted the weapon over his head.

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