Just a dumb fuck

The bowling went well, Shane and Travis are pretty good at it and I was learning quick. We even got into a friendly bit of competition with a few local kids after a few minutes of staring each other down. We did kind of stand out. All the other kids our age in there were in jeans and t shirts and there we were in jackets and ties. That’s casual by Allegheny Alcatraz standards. With things going well and it only being 5pm, I was surprised when Shane said it was time to be leaving and heading back to college. Our passes said we were free until 22:00, and I knew the minibus was doing shuttle runs at 20:30 and 21:30.

“Muster Sunday tomorrow, Dumb Fuck” said Travis as if that was explanation enough. I was beginning to think Craigy was the lesser of the two evils in terms of names he had for me.

Now don’t get me wrong, I knew what Muster Sunday was, and that it was tomorrow. It’s Muster Sunday the first Sunday of each month. It’s in the handbook I was given when I started. It’s been mentioned several times already this week. Full ceremonial uniform, parade into church for a service, salute the flag. More marching about on the drill square until lunchtime. Then we are free. So yes, I know what Muster Sunday is, I just don’t see what it has to do with curtailing our Saturday night. My uniform was already clean and hanging ready. The other guys had got their kit up to scratch too. Kyle had insisted on it before he signed off on our passes into town.

It was Shane who enlightened me. “This Sunday, Kyle’s been selected to be in the Escort to the Flag. So he’s going to be out in front, every eye in the college on him. Outside visitors too. His uniform has to be immaculate. His drill has to be perfect.”

“So, under normal circumstances,” continued Travis, “Kyle would be ironing and polishing and polishing and ironing all night to make sure he was perfect. Except that he didn’t know he was on Escort Duty until yesterday when the guy who should be doing it went sick with appendicitis and Kyle was pulled up the roster to replace him. Which made things awkward for Kyle because he had a date tonight. He was going to cancel it, even though he only gets one pass out per month.”

I hadn’t realised Seniors got fewer off-camp passes than juniors, I’d just kind of assumed that the older guys, the higher ranks, would get more. That’s the way rank works. It has its privileges as well as its responsibilities. Travis was droning on, launching into a speech about how Kyle is the best dorm senior in college. How he never messes us around, keeps things tight but relaxed. To be sure, I had noticed that, like how we are all using first names and not rank and surname to address each other outside of classes. He didn’t set times and deadlines and rosters for stuff like cleaning either. He just expected it to be done and be up to standard. He didn’t slack on the inspections – he was just as critical about standards as any other senior – but he trusted us to meet those standards without breathing down our necks. I recalled something my dad had once said. Something about how good leaders made people want to be led by them.

“We’re heading back because we’ve told Kyle to go on his date,” finished Travis. “We’re taking care of his kit for him. Nat, Will and Noah gave up their afternoon passes to work on it. They are slaving their balls off getting his uniform, boots and sword all pristine. We would have been too except for Kyle. He insisted that you needed to be shown round town, given your first taste of freedom since you got here. So stay if you like, find yourself a party. We’re heading back and pulling our weight, Dumb Fuck.”

Travis was right in my face, every muscle tensed. I was squared off to him. I don’t take crap from anybody. Yes, Travis was more muscled than me, but I’m no push-over. I’m the same height. Toned but not muscle bound. Fast. And he doesn’t know I box. I knew I could deck him before he got to use his strength to advantage. From the corner of my eye I could see Shane was stood off a good yard or two. It was just one on one. I can take Travis down. My fists were already balled up by my side.

I backed down.

“Let’s go back,” I said, dropping my gaze, losing eye contact, letting him know he was alpha dog. He was right. My dad would have been proud of him. Of all of them.

We didn’t say much on the way back to the pick up point. Even Shane was subdued, and I could feel both sets of eyes drilling into my back as I bought a couple of the biggest take away pizzas available from the 24 hour kiosk by the bus drop off point.

The minibus turned up dead on time and we were back at college, signed in and outside our dorm just a few minutes after six. As I opened the door we were met by a solid wall of odour: polish and starch. I think every military base in the world is the same prior to a parade. Nathan, Will and Noah were all hard at work in shorts and t shirts. There were tins of shoe polish, ironing boards and polishing cloths scattered around. Kyle’s dress uniform was hanging over the front of his wardrobe in a clear protective cover. Blue tunic with gleaming buttons and gold braid, spotless white trousers. Will and Noah both had one of his boots, slowly polishing them with a damp cloth and determination. Nathan had a sword scabbard and belt across his lap, rubbing yet more polish into the leather facings of each.

I put the two pizza boxes on the desk by Nathan’s bed. He’s another gingernut, but with a lean chiselled face unlike Travis’s round turnip head, and a toned, swimmer’s body. Neither of them got the inference when I’d earlier referred to him and Travis as ‘Bryant and May’. Dumb fucks. Nathan’s a Cadet Corporal whereas the remainder of us are just Cadet Privates. He’s in charge when Kyle isn’t around. A touch more old-school on formality and discipline too. When we’re stood down from classes or duties the others call him Nat instead of Corporal, but Kyle introduced me to him as Nathan on my first day so Nathan is what I’ve called him on the few occasions we’ve spoken informally. I think I have to earn the right to call him Nat.

“We,” and I stressed the ‘we’ as I put the pizzas down, “thought you’d appreciate these. Give us a minute to get changed into scruffs too and we’ll take over whilst you tuck in.” 

The pizzas definitely seemed welcome. From the way Will and Noah pounced on them I suspected that they, and Nathan, had probably skipped the late afternoon tea of coffee and biscuits that was usually served at weekends. As they were in scruffs they were probably planning to skip dinner too at seven. After they had changed into tees and shorts, and let the others take their fill of the pizza, Shane and Travis both had a slice each too. That left just one piece remaining. Travis looked at me.

“You not eating, Dumb Fuck?”

“No. It’s yours if you want it.”

Travis glared for a moment, then picked it up and wolfed it down. Once it was swallowed, he looked over again, his face not so hostile this time. “Thanks,” he said gruffly before taking up one of Kyle’s boots and a cloth from Noah’s bed and taking it back to his own. He began to polish it, rubbing the cloth in small circles, gradually working all the way from toe to heel and back again, studiously avoiding looking over to where I was sitting and polishing the other boot.

Nathan looked at Travis, then at Shane. Shane was smiling again, back to his old self, giving nothing away, but Nathan had clearly sensed the tension between me and Travis. For me, that one word, ‘Thanks’ was enough. We were talking again. We could start rebuilding from that. And I needed a friend like him.

“Cadet.” Nathan’s voice was quiet but authoritative. “Dumb Fuck is not a correct form of address for another cadet. Understood?”

“Understood, Corporal.” Travis’s voice was quiet too, but not hostile. He’d been reprimanded and he knew it was fair warning.

I tried to lighten the mood. “Even if I am, sometimes…”

Even Travis laughed.

* * *

Reveille on Muster Sunday was at 06:00, just as it was on weekdays, and so by the time Kyle crept quietly into the dorm at 22:30 everyone else was in bed and as far as I could tell, asleep.

I was awake for two reasons. First, I was thinking about how the guys had come together for Kyle. That was what dad would have expected me to do. No ifs. No buts. Support him. He’d once told me how, when he was a young officer in command of his first platoon, he knew he was doing okay when the men gradually stopped calling him ‘Sir’ and started addressing him simply as ‘Boss’ if it wasn’t a formal setting. He said they were now showing him respect, and not just acknowledging his rank. Secondly, I was getting cold. We’d put my blankets in the drier in the laundry and got them sorted first thing in the morning. That was the easy bit. The mattress though, despite being stood upright in the draft by an open window all day, was still damp and the dampness was seeping back through the bottom sheet and into me. And there was no way on earth I was going to ask to share with Shane again. Even if I died of pneumonia, I wasn’t going to snuggle up to him again. Just no !

The curtains over Kyle’s window had been deliberately left open when Nathan called ‘lights out’ so that Kyle wouldn’t be stumbling around in the dark when he got in. Nathan knew Kyle wouldn’t just turn the light on as some of the other Seniors might have done. When we’d finished polishing and ironing to Nathan’s satisfaction, and believe me that was a very high standard, all Kyle’s kit had been lined up neatly on his desk or hung on his wardrobe. The ironing board had been left out with all the polish and cloths next to it. On the whiteboard by his desk that was used for Dorm Orders, Nathan had written “If it’s not good enough, wake us up.” Kyle saw it and I could see him smile. He didn’t even check. He trusted them.

It was a cloudless night with a strong half-moon, so I could see Kyle clearly as he quickly undressed down to his boxer shorts before stepping over to the window. He took hold of the open curtains to close them before pausing for a moment, looking out. For that brief moment as he was outlined against the window, the moonlight created a halo effect around his perfect body, turned his hair to silver, his skin to ivory. He looked, well… I don’t know. Good. I don’t know why I was thinking that. Why would I think that?

The ‘swish’ of the curtains as he closed them jolted me back to sanity and I closed my eyes quickly as Kyle turned around and climbed into his bed. He settled down and then said, icily quietly, “Go to sleep, Cadet Wright.”

* * *

I didn’t sleep well, so it was no real problem to be up early, well before reveille sounded. I wasn’t the first up: as I padded off quietly down the corridor to the washroom I was met by Kyle returning the other way. Though there was no-one else around and technically we weren’t at duty until reveille, I felt it would be best to be formal. I braced up and stood with my back to the wall, allowing him to pass by easily.

“Good morning, Sir.”

Kyle nodded curtly in acknowledgement and continued on his way.

After a good shower and a morale booster, I got back to the dorm just as reveille sounded and everyone was tumbling out of bed. Kyle was already gone and Nathan clearly in charge, just as he would be until lunchtime. For the next half hour the place was a never ending stream of activity as the guys dashed off for lightning showers and then raced to get dressed in scruffs. Whilst the staff and Duty Seniors would be having a formal breakfast with the Commandant at 07:00, in full ceremonials, one cadet from each dorm would go to the cookhouse and collect a packed breakfast which would be eaten in the dorm, in scruffs, before we dressed in our uniforms. It’s practical for Muster Sunday: eating breakfast of pancakes, sticky syrup and that grit shit whilst in starched white trousers and bright blue tunics would just be asking for disaster. Noah had been designated to collect our breakfast but as I was already dressed, I offered to go. Do my bit for the team. Nathan slapped me down. He’d detailed Noah to go and so Noah was going. Clear? It wasn’t something to discuss.

I was slinking back to my bedspace when the door opened and Kyle appeared, in full uniform and with his sword belt on. Nathan called the room to ”Atten -- shun!” but the guys beat him to it: they were bolt upright before the word left his mouth. I was a bit slower and had to try hard not to giggle, there’s nothing so stupid as seeing kids in scruff order playing at soldiers. It’s just not done, either you’re smart or you don’t bother. We’d never do that in the Marines Cadets back home. Still, I’m here, so I play along and actually kept a straight face when Nathan saluted despite being indoors and improperly dressed. What’s even funnier is that the Yanks don’t even know they’re doing it wrong. “Bless ‘em,” as my dad would have said.

“Return the Cadets to their duties, Corporal. I’d just like a word out here with Cadet Wright.”

Nathan flicked his head to me to step outside whilst the rest of the room returned to their chaos. My bedspace is next to the door – another disadvantage of being the bottom of the hierarchy, and so I was in the corridor and awaiting Kyle’s wrath before I’d had time to figure what I was going to be blasted for. Well, I had an inkling. The words “Go to sleep” had been bouncing round in my head all night.

“Relax, Cadet, stand easy.” As I stood easy I realised that I hadn’t even consciously stood to attention in the first place. I guess it’s all the years of being a patch brat and then a Royal Marines Cadet just turning me into a robot. Robot Wright. It’s got a ring to it. And Kyle didn’t seem angry.

“Just checking, Cadet. You’re up to speed on what’s expected of you today? Understand your dispensations?”

Yes, I have ‘dispensations’. I’ll tell you about those later.

“Yes, Sir.”

“That’s fine. Back to your preparations.” With that Kyle turned smartly about and headed off down the corridor, but then paused and looked back. “I know it’s going to be strange for you, but try and enjoy the day.”

* * *

With breakfast out of the way the serious business of getting smart began, though to be fair it wasn’t so much of a mare for me. As everyone else carefully donned their chocolate box tunics and white trousers I had it a little easier. I’m an alien you see. That’s American for Johnny Foreigner. Not entitled to the ceremonial uniform. I’m parading in the standard weekday College working uniform of blue serge tunic and trousers with just a few brass buttons and a white leather belt. Pretty practical, but I’m going to stand out like a sore thumb, just in case there’s anybody here that hasn’t yet realised I’m not one of them.

Then, of course, there are my ‘dispensations’. Dad agreed those for me with the Commandant and to be honest they aren’t a problem. Not to me anyway. I don’t have to chant the oath of allegiance like a lemon. Not today, not any day. As if I bloody would! I’ve already sworn allegiance to the Queen when I joined the Royal Marines Cadets back home so that one was a complete non-starter. I don’t sing the US National Anthem, though I *will* stand silently in respect. I *will* salute the flag. Actually, I don’t have a problem with that: brave men have fought and died under it, sometimes alongside our guys. And I don’t wear the stars and stripes on my shoulders, I’m allowed my “Royal Marines Cadets” flashes instead. Subdued, tactical flashes, nothing that will stand out a mile of course. I actually sympathised with the Commandant’s feelings on that one. We don’t want everyone else feeling too inferior.

So, all in all, I think we can call it evens. Okay, so I am going to stand out like a bacon sarnie at a bar mitzvah and cop some flak, but I won’t look like I’m an extra from a pantomime and if it rains or gets muddy I’ll still look smart. Can’t say that about the white trouser brigade…

At 07:45 Nathan was satisfied we were ready and prepared us to match out to the parade ground to join up with all the other sections ready for the 08:00 kick off and the march over to the Church. Kyle out in front, sword drawn, Escort to The Flag. First though, we had to get out of the accommodation block and guess who Nathan detailed off to go and hold the door open whilst all the sections trooped out? All the money my dad is paying for me to be here and they use me as a doorman.

As Kyle was Escort to The Flag, our section had been privileged with right-of-line immediately behind Kyle’s Flag Escort of four other Cadet Lieutenants. Obviously, Nathan was in the lead of our section and the other four guys formed up in two ranks behind him: Noah and Will front rank, Travis and Shane second rank. Shortest forward, tallest rear. At least he got that right. What didn’t pan out so well was my place. Having to hold the accommodation block door open for every bugger else meant that I was right at the back of the line as the parade formed up and so, once ‘Last Man Out’ was called, the whole column had to wait for me to march up alongside it and take my place as supernumerary behind Travis. Well, everyone knows I’m here now. Great planning, Corporal. Maybe I’ll scrawl “Mathew 19, v 30” on his whiteboard tonight and see if the penny drops.

As we stood waiting for clock to strike and the March Off, I did notice that Kyle had got it right though. Not just was his kit immaculate, but he’d had his dress uniform tailored. The tunic was nipped in tight around his waist and the sleeves were seamed too, emphasising every bit of his physique. As for the trousers, well, sculpted is the only way I can describe it: tight across his arse and hugging his thighs. Yes, Sir, you definitely look good on parade.

Just a few seconds before the church clock’s fingers reached 08:00 a bugler at the Commandant’s side sounded, calling us to readiness. On the very first chime of eight we stepped off, no word of command given, towards the church. It’s their tradition. Well, it’s not really a tradition is it? More of a habit I’d call it. Still, if your country is barely a few hundred years old you do the best you can.

I’m going to have to have a word with the guys when we get back to the dorm. Will in particular. Okay, it’s not that they are actually bad. Just not good enough, and with Nathan in front he can’t see them. That’s why Corporals should be out on the flank, spotting these things, not in front pretending he’s the officer. If I’m going to be seen marching with them, they need to be Marching. Properly. Heads up. Chests out. Thumbs straight and aligned with the direction of march, not curled over their fingers. They’re not marching, they’re bimbling. It’s true what dad says about armies with flashy uniforms. It’s theatre. Distracts the eye from the flaws.

It’s not all of them of course. Kyle’s got it sorted. Flashy uniform and style. Shoulders back, arse tucked in, not a hint of a wiggle. He’s a soldier for sure, not some dolly bird fashion model on a cat walk. He might be gay but he doesn’t look it. If Travis hadn’t told me I’d never have guessed. The rest of our section though… bloody hell, they’re like a bunch of rabbits jiggling their little white arses with every stride. It’s no wonder I’m getting a boner again. It’s like following a bunch of girls down a beach, not soldiers on parade. Come on guys, switch your telepathy on. Listen to me. Look at Cadet Lieutenant Masters. He’s got it.