Army Secrets

Army Secrets

It was the worst bunch of rookies Sgt Douglas Coleman ever had. He'd spent a few weeks on them now, and was swiftly running towards a nervous breakdown. His throat was sore from all the screaming, to try and make them listen, and he was this close to smack some in the face. To make matters even worse, today there would be some kind of inspection. Some hotshot from another force was commissioned to them, a Captain apparently, specialized in sharpshooting. They called him The Sniper. Douglas wondered what the man had done to deserve the punishment of being sent to this terrible unit. He didn't give it much thought, though. His problem was much larger; trying to make something coherent out of this mash of insubordinate rookies.
Another yell made them stand still for a moment. Douglas sighed. He had a lot of work to do.

Capt Gregory Somers entered his barrack, and unpacked his bags. It was his home from now on, but didn't feel like one. He lived for the army, but he could never get used to the cold, bare, uncomfortable cabins he had to stay in. Stripped from all personality, it contained nothing but bare brownish walls, a hard, square gray bench –he just couldn't call it a sofa– simple cabinets and a single bed in the small room next to the... well, for the lack of another word: lounge. It also had a kitchen. Greg knew he would never use it, except maybe to make a cup of tea before bed. And he loved cooking...
Unpacking didn't take long. Greg dressed up, pulled on his long coat and gloves, and went outside into the chill. It was time to check the squads.

“Attention!” Douglas had explained the importance of the situation of the day, and he hoped they would listen to him, just this once. It wasn't as if they weren't willing. They were all volunteers, and they wanted to follow through the training. But they were young, playful, and easily bored. Douglas spent most of the day running and marching, just to get them tired so they would be silent for a while.

Next to his squad, another sergeant received compliments. With an annoyed groan, Douglas peered at the immaculate privates, standing at faultless attention, looking like they were a perfectly greased machine. He didn't dare to look at his own men. Somehow their boots didn't shine, and the uniforms looked creased, no matter how hard the privates polished and ironed. It would rain soon. Then they would have a reason to look so grubby.

“Sgt Coleman...?”

“Yes, Major, sir!” It didn't sound right, even in Douglas' ears. His voice had a nervous edge. Trying to look respectful and at ease at the same time, he saluted.

“Capt Somers, this is Sgt Coleman. He has the privilege of training the newest enlistment. At ease, sergeant...”

Douglas looked at the captain, and instantly knew he hated the man, from the depth of his soul. His eyes turned to the man's left ear, and stayed there for as long as they were talking. Only when the officers continued their way to another squad, he relaxed a little. “Okay gents...” He couldn't yell anymore. “At ease. But please, stand still for a bit longer, alright?”
His sudden soft voice had the right impact. Almost shocked by the unexpected change, the rookies obeyed, and stood to attention as long as was required.

The rest of the day and evening, Greg had to attend to meetings with the rest of the staff. That's what he liked best. Meetings, talking, planning, plotting and organizing. He kept telling himself that he loved it. He almost believed it himself, if only his right hand wasn't so itchy to grab a gun and go shooting. Talk about what he liked –that was what he liked.
After a simple, but decent meal with the officers, he went to his barrack to make a cup of tea. He would have to smuggle in some candles... and a bottle of wine. No one would ever check his bags, of course, but it would feel like subordination anyway. The mere thought of having a secret like that sent a pleasant shiver down his spine.

Now... what did he see, so far. With a cup of fresh brew, Greg made himself comfortable on the hard sofa, to think about his day. It was the same here as he had seen everywhere in the army. Obedient, nervous privates, sturdy sergeants trying to out-stare him. Except with one squad. Sgt Coleman had avoided looking at him, and his rookie men looked amateurish. The sergeant had looked tired. Greg would spend some time around him, to see what was the problem, and maybe to help him. Tomorrow they would be shooting. His hand itched again.

“You lie down, aim, and gently squeeze the trigger!” Douglas' voice was sharp and edgy, and his finger trembled slightly as he pointed angrily at the target. “Gently! You don't yank, you don't push; you just squeeze as if you wank your cock, private!”

The giggles silenced quickly at the sight of the sergeant's furious eyes. Quickly aiming, they all tried to be gentle with their guns. At least one bullet ripped off the ear of the black painted puppet. Douglas groaned, dragging a hand down his face. Rookies...

“They're terrible, aren't they?”

Oh, great! The captain had decided to pay him a visit. What a pleasant surprise. “It's their first try,” he said between clenched teeth. “They have to practice a bit.”

“Yes, but still...” Greg shrugged, and unbuttoned his coat. Without looking at his hand, he pulled out an enormous gun. “Duck!” The large caliber bullets shot the head of the target clean off, followed by the torso. “Two bullets is all it takes, privates...”

“Thank you,” sneered Douglas. “Now I have to get a new target, Capt Sniper.”

“Capt Sniper?” Greg blinked, and laughed softly. “I like that. Indeed, I am a sniper. What have you–”

“Look out!” Douglas slapped against the barrel of the gun when one of his freshmen came to tell them it had jammed. The gunshot ripped through the air, making them flinch, and for the first time every man was dead-silent. The private nearly fainted. Douglas found no resistance when he pulled the gun out of his hands, pushing him away.

“You just saved my life,” said Greg breathlessly, barely grasping what had happened. “I've survived wars and battles, and you saved me from being shot by a clumsy rookie...”

Douglas had trouble finding his voice, and it was soft when he finally spoke. “Don't mention it. Now... if you will excuse me... I have to teach these idiots the importance of safety with guns. Again.”

“Yes. Yes, of course...” Greg staggered slightly, when he turned away. “Thank you, sergeant... I owe you. I owe you big time.” He had to report this. That rookie had to be dismissed, punished, whatever had to happen. But Greg didn't feel like reporting. He wanted a drink. If only he had brought that bottle of scotch with him.

It rained, that night. The heavens had opened all reserves, plunging down water as if it was Judgment Day. The field had turned into a mud bath, slippery and wet, and Douglas had trouble inhaling dry air. Still, he stayed put, yelling at the groaning men in front of him. “More! Push up! Kiss the mud, you maggots, and push!” He would teach them subordination. Oh yes, he would. No matter if they would drown, or if he would catch a terrible cold. He would teach them the importance of obeying orders and to listen.

“That's a severe punishment, sergeant Coleman...”

Gods, not him again. Douglas closed his eyes and sighed before he turned. “Captain...?”

“Is that because one of them nearly shot me, sergeant?”

“Amongst other things,” nodded Douglas. The rain clattered on the plastic cover around his cap, and seeped through his heavy coat. His feet were cold and wet, he was chilled to the bone, and the last thing he needed was to see those clear blue eyes, shining in the pale light like precious gems. “You don't have to be here, captain. Go to bed.”

“I will, eventually,” said Greg. “You saved my life. It wouldn't be fair to leave you out in this weather alone.”

“I said don't mention it,” growled Douglas. “So don't. Now go, captain... Go away from me.” It sounded disrespectful and rude, and he didn't care.

“That's no way to speak to an officer, sergeant Coleman...” Greg yelped quietly when the man suddenly grabbed the lapels of his coat, yanking him close. “Sergeant!”

“Listen to me, captain,” Douglas growled lowly. “Go away. Get those blue eyes away from me. I want your pretty face at least thirty feet away, so I can't see you properly. Do you hear me? I know you and your kind, and I don't play your game. Don't tempt me.”

The captain blinked the rain out of his eyes, slowly relaxing as the words sank in. “You like me,” he murmured, barely moving his lips. He clearly fought against a smile.

“I hate you with all my might,” replied Douglas, pulling him even closer. To the privates, it would look as if they were having a fight. “You haunt my dreams from the moment I saw you, and I knew I hated you from the start. You are going to ruin me. I want to kiss you. I will never be able to. I want to hold you. I hate you, Somers...”

“If you ever want to sigh my name at night, it's Greg,” said the captain. He folded his hands around Douglas' wrists, and pulled him away from his lapels. “Kiss me in your dreams, and I will kiss you back with delight and passion, Doug.”

“I don't play your game.” Turning his attention back to the soldiers, he saw them all standing in the mud, staring at him. “Get down, you! Give me another twenty, fools!” Without looking, he knew Greg was walking away. He could simply sense it, as if the rain got even colder. The blue eyes didn't leave his mind anymore, and he knew he would sigh that name that night.
In fact, he did. Many, many times, during several nights.

...