The Academy - 4

Chapter IV - The Hardcastle Incident

 

Things became routine.  The heat of summer was replaced by the chill of the Appalachian Fall.  Scholars remained scholarly.  Ne'er-do-wells remained slackers.  But almost every cadet made an adjustment.

 

Not so, Elbert Hardcastle.  He had finally settled on wrestling as his required sport, but he lost every match he participated in.  He dreaded Saturday inspections.  Was always called down.  Something wrong with his uniform, if it was a personnel inspection.  Dust where it shouldn't be or an improperly made bunk, if it was quarters' inspection.  Inspecting officers liked the top sheet to be so tightly tucked that a fifty-cent piece could be bounced on it.  And he could never adjust to the swearing and the sex that he was subjected to.  His letter to his father had never been answered.

 

His mother had always told him when things were bad, he should report them to the authorities.  So after six weeks of agony, during a study hall he asked permission to go see the chaplain.

 

He reached the chaplain's office in the administration building and knocked.

 

"Come in....Oh, yes, do come in." Hardcastle was the first cadet to seek an audience with him in at least two years.

 

"Reverend...." Hardcastle began.

 

"Please address me as `Commander,' son," Cdr.  Pugh said.  "What can I do for you?"

 

"Commander, sir, I've just got to tell you what's going on."

 

First, without actually using the words he found so objectionable, he complained about the "bad language" he heard all the time.  Then he mustered the courage to tell the chaplain about the "sex stuff" that the other boys in his room engaged in, attempting to be as inexplicit as possible.  "And I think those things are going on in other rooms too," he concluded.

 

Cdr.  Pugh found it hard to keep a straight face, as he listened to the boy's childish descriptions of male sex.  After all, he had spent twenty years on active duty in the navy, serving on battleships and cruisers interspersed with shore duty at Pearl Harbor, Newport, and Norfolk.  And of course he had heard tell that some of the things that Hardcastle was trying to describe were going on at the academy.  But what do you expect of horny teen boys?

 

He tackled the easiest thing first.

 

"Now son, none of us countenances taking the Lord's name in vain.  But the first thing we've got to realize is that God's name isn't `God.' So when you hear one of your fellows say `goddamn,' that's certainly not polite or genteel, but it isn't forbidden by the Bible.  The same goes for words like "shit" or "fuck." I don't expect that any cadet would go home and use those expressions in front of his mother, or father for that matter. But here at the academy we're in an all-male environment.  You boys are all trying to show each other that you're tough, real young men.  And the military faculty are trying to let you know that cadets are supposed to have the traits of real men.  So you've got to expect to hear crude, even vulgar language.  That's part of growing up, son.

 

"Didn't any of your little friends back home ever say things like that?"

 

"I never had many friends," Hardcastle answered.  "And the two or three I had were just like me."

 

"Well, I hope you'll understand that `man-talk' like that isn't bad, when it's used in the right circumstances.

 

"As far as the sex goes, the policy of the academy is not to condone homosexual acts--that is sex between men or boys--of any kind.  And I'm distressed to hear that your roommates are regularly participating in--I assume--both oral and anal sex.

 

"But puberty can be tough, son.  I guess it hasn't hit you yet.  But kids the age of our cadets can be....can be under great pressure to get sexual relief.  That's why the academy doesn't pay a lot of attention, when boys masturbate.

 

"What you're talking about is more serious, and all I can tell you is that I will take the matter up with the proper people.  For now I assume you came here from study hall.  The period is almost over, so you'd best get to your next class."

 

"Yes, sir.  Thank you, commander."

 

The boy had left the chaplain in a quandary.  He knew that if he took the matter to Col.  Southerland, all hell would have to break loose.  But he felt he needed to do something.  He felt that the matter should be dealt with at the lowest possible level, so he found out who Hardcastle's Company Commander was, when his study hall was, and summoned him to his office.

 

Jack Witherspoon was puzzled to receive a note from the chaplain.  "Please come to my office at your earliest opportunity." Surely someone in his family hadn't died.  In study hall he asked permission to visit the chaplain.

 

Cdr.  Pugh usually dressed in clericals.  Witherspoon was surprised to find him in dress blues.  He saluted smartly, knowing that his salute would not be returned.  Navy men remove their hats upon entering a building and do not salute unless covered.

 

"Good morning, Witherspoon," the commander said.  "Please have a seat.

 

"I have been visited by a Cadet Elbert Hardcastle, who is in Company B. Are you familiar with him?"

 

"Yes, sir," Witherspoon answered.  "Not one of our more promising cadets, I'm afraid."

 

"I think I could sense that," the chaplain responded, "but he brought to my attention some activities by his roommates that I can't really ignore.  It seems that they regularly engage in....Well, we may as well call a spade a spade.  They're sucking and fucking each other about every night."

 

"Queers in my company?" Witherspoon sounded alarmed.

 

"Come now, son, I wasn't born yesterday.  I know things go in in barracks. You all are teenaged boys, after all.  But it's up to you to keep things under control.  Do I make myself clear?"

 

"Yes sir.  I'll see that this is taken care of right away!"

 

"Good.  I see no reason to involve the superintendent, if good order and discipline can be maintained at a lower level."

 

Witherspoon stood.  "You can count on me, sir."

 

"Good.  Dismissed."

 

Witherspoon saluted, turned on his heel, and left the office.  He was totally pissed.  What the chaplain had said indicated that he was speaking informally.  The fact that he was in his naval uniform sent another message entirely.

 

The Company B Commander's first reaction was to beat the shit out of Hardcastle.  Before he did that, he decided to report the encounter to the Battalion Commander.  Cadet Col.  Spencer shared Witherspoon's anger but was a bit more level headed.

 

"Why the fuck didn't the little shit go through channels?" Witherspoon spat.

 

"Because none of us would have listened to him," Spencer answered.  "Besides, you know what the chaplain always says, `Come to see me, if you have a problem.' Well, someone finally came to see him, and left him shitting bricks.

 

"Who's senior in his room?"

 

"Their Squad Leader, Carol Barefield."

 

"O.K.  Here's what you do.  Get together with Hardcastle and Barefield.  Have the platoon leader there too.  Read Barefield the riot act.  Let him know that getting relief sometimes is all right, but messing around every night is just queer.  We don't allow queers at Lee Academy.

 

"Then, you can light into Hardcastle.  Tell him if he has a bitch to go through channels.  Don't disturb the chaplain.  And let him know how tough on him it will be, if you're not obeyed.

 

"I'll back you up."

 

It was about 9:30 the following night.  Witherspoon sent Gunnerston.

 

"Sergeant, Capt.  Witherspoon wants to see you and Cadet Hardcastle at once," Gunnerston said.

 

The second floor platoon leader had found it necessary to go to the library.  So when Barefield and Hardcastle arrived, only Witherspoon and Ellis were in the room.  They were aligned as if they were sitting at a Court Martial, both in full uniform.

 

"Goddamn it!" Witherspoon shouted, "Here I find there's fucking and sucking going on every night in my own goddamned company.  What the hell do you have to say about that, Barefield?"

 

"What the hell do you mean?" Barefield asks.

 

"What the hell do you mean, SIR," Witherspoon yells.

 

"Sorry, sir," Barefield responds, "but I don't know what you're talking about."

 

"Hardcastle here has told the chaplain that you and Stephens and Baumgartner are fucking around every night.  Is that true?"

 

"Well not every night."

 

"Goddamn, it, motherfucker, you know the rules!  There's a difference between getting off ever so often and acting like a bunch of queers!"

 

Barefield was really confused, but he played along.  "I'm sorry, sir.  I'll see that the `rules' are followed, whatever they are."

 

"Good," Witherspoon replied.  "I hope I can count on you.

 

"Now, Hardcastle, just who the fuck do you think you are?"

 

"Sir?"

 

"If you've got a goddamned problem, you don't go taking it to the fucking chaplain.  You go through channels.  Why didn't you speak to Lt.  Ellis about your worries?

 

"I dunno.  The chaplain said to come to him about any problems we had."

 

"Fuck the chaplain!" Witherspoon yelled.  "This is a goddamned military academy, not nursery school. You don’t go to the fucking Chaplain’s office with issues like this.  Now in the future, if you have a problem that Barefield can't help you with, come to Ellis or to me!" He unzipped his pants and pulled out his prong.  "And if you can't follow orders...Well, since you seem to be hung up so much about sex, I'll guarantee you'll feel this thing up your fucking ass!  Is that clear?”  Not waiting for an answer he continued.  "Now get the fuck out of here!"

 

Both Hardcastle and Barefield turned to go.

 

"Not you, Barefield.  I'm not through with you!"

 

When the door had closed behind Hardcastle, Witherspoon continued.  "Yall really been messing around every night?" he giggled.

 

"Most every night," Barefield answered.  "Shit, I stay horny all the time.  Hell, I’m horny right now."

 

"Well I'm horny right now too.  Probably Ellis is too.  Taste this motherfucker."  Witherspoon said offering cock.  But this time he didn't just pull his dick out, he pushed his pants and shorts down, revealing his hard prong and low-hangers in all their glory.  Barefield didn't hesitate.  He fell to his knees and took the company commander into his mouth, while unbuckling and unbuttoning his own trousers and revealing himself to both of the others.  As his lips slipped back and forth on Witherspoon's hard rod, Ellis knew what to do.  He greased Barefield's hole.  After a couple of minutes Witherspoon pulled out and ordered Barefield to lean over.  B

 

arefield dutifully pulled his cheeks apart, and Witherspoon shoved his spit-covered dick into the exposed rosebud.  He was fully inserted in seconds, and Barefield was moaning with delight.  To heighten the experience, Ellis shoved his tool into the sergeant's mouth, and started fucking it.  A perfect spit-roast.

 

When both of the older boys had been satisfied, Witherspoon said, "We'll have to do that again, but not every night.  You're a damned good fuck, sergeant."

 

"I aim to be the best possible cadet, sir," Barefield grinned.

 

"Well, let's see if Hardcastle gets the fucking message."