American Gulag

At 04:30 hours, the lights flashed on and off. The metal garbage can at the end of the barracks became alive like a steel band, as Sergeant Gonvea banged it with a stick. I jumped up in sheer panic not knowing what was going on or where I was. Still asleep, I managed to get to my feet.

"Outside in formation," yelled Gonvea.

Groans were heard all around.

"Get yourselves ready, girls," he said. "You Gibbs, get a move one. Come on troop - chit, chower and chave."

I was a little worried about the shower in this neck of the woods. I was a little concerned about my reaction to the other men. At my size, I did not think I would interest any of them. The latrine was wide open - the commodes were in an open space with no partitions. The urinals were large basins with no privacy; and the shower was a large hole in the wall with four community spigots. It was pandemonium jockeying for one or the other of the facilities as needed.

Once the shock of waking up ran its course, I followed Ormond outside into formation on the quadrangle. It was still dark and very chilly. All four platoons were forming waiting for their noncoms to appear and call the role. We squared up in two nice even rows and stood at ease as Gonvea barked out a mispronouncement of most of our names.

Breaking for mess was a ritual as well. In order to eat, we needed to go through the over head monkey bars which stood in front of the mess hall. I never could do more than just hang on to the first rung; so, that first morning was no different. I just hung there until my fingers gave out.

"Gibbs," said Gonvea. "Do you want to eat? Get back up there and try again."

This time I managed to swing a little, but my fingers were really sore. I fell again.

"Get your sorry ass inside," he barked.

So, I ran up the stairs to get my breakfast. I was very hungry. Gonvea followed behind me and spoke to the mess sergeant.

"Gibbs," he said. "You have a special diet, so don't get in line. Here."

I was brought a hard-boiled egg, two slices of dry toast and a glass of orange juice. I looked at it with dismay. I could smell the bacon and eggs the others had. My stomach was rebelling already. I was finished eating long before the rest.

"What's next," I said to Buddy Ormond. "I figure we'll do PT out in the quadrangle."

"PT, yes," said Ormond, "But not in the quadrangle. They take us to a gym somewhere else on the post."

"A gym?" I said. "That's cushy."

I spoke too soon. The gym was about a mile and a quarter away on the other side of the main basic training area. However, our transportation was none other than our own two feet; and we did not march there. We double-timed it with Sergeant Gonvea on one side and Sergeant Pike on the other. I had trouble keeping up almost immediately. It was torture. I lost my breath and started gasping for air.

"Keep the pace," yelled Gonvea. "Keep in line, Gibbs. Don't punk out me."

"I can't do it Sergeant," I gasped. "I can't."

"Huey, Krasnar," said Pike, "you gentlemen better pick up the pace."

"Gibbs," said Ormond, "You better keep up. Just don't fall back."

"I can't breathe," I said.

"You pussy," said Krasnar, "you better not fuck us up. "

"I can't. I can't."

"Sweet cakes," said Chauncier, "don't let us down."

It was no use. I was falling behind.

"You girls keep you mouth shut," said Gonvea. "Gibbs, pick up the pace."

I could not. My legs were on fire. My head was spinning. I could not breathe. I slowed down. Pike stayed with the others, while Gonvea stayed with me, like a harpy, yelling at me and badgering me to not stop.

"Don't stop, private," he said. "Don't fucking think of stopping."

"Sergeant, I can't go further."

I stopped, bent at the waist gasping for air.

Gonvea circled me wildly.

"On your knees Gibbs. On your knees."

I did so. I did so willingly to stop the fire in my legs. Gonvea stood in front of me, his crotch practically in my face.

"When I say assume the position for you faggots," he said, "this is the natural one you should assume."

"Sergeant," I said gasping still, "I'm not a faggot."

"No, you're not a faggot. You're just a pussy, sissy, fat, sloven pile of shit! You shouldn't be in my army."

I panted heavily trying to speak my mind.

"I was drafted, Sergeant."

"Because your country needs you troop. But you didn't have the good sense to tell them that you were a homo - so you must pay the price and become something your country does need."

"Sergeant, you're mistaken."

"Me, mistaken," said Gonvea ominously. "Remember, here I'm your daddy and your daddy is never wrong. Never mistaken! Repeat after me. Sergeant Gonvea, I am a useless piece of shit."

"I can't do that."

He hit me on the head, not hard, but enough to terrify me.

"Sergeant Gonvea," I said, "I'm a useless piece of shit!"

"I'm a fat boy and a faggot."

"I'm a fat boy and . . ."

"Say it."

"I'm a fat boy and a useless piece of shit."

Gonvea laughed.

"Get up. Let's run you to the gym."

He ran me lighter and at a better pace; he even letting me stop to catch my breath. Once in the gym, I thought my ordeal was over; however, it had just begun. The gym was a never ending round of calisthenics. The sweat pored off me drop by drop onto the shiny floor. Then we played basketball. None of us, except Private Twig, that is Tiny, had any talent here. The game was a mess of running, almost skipping guys in gym shorts tossing and dribbling the ball up and down the gym's acreage. The gym was huge. After the basketball game, we lined up to shoot hoops. If you got the hoop, you got on the back of the line to shoot again. However, if you missed, like I did, you had to run four laps of the gym. After twelve laps of the gym, I was ready for a long nap - a hospital bed would have been kindness. That said, it was lunchtime back at the Special Training Company; so, it was back across the field for lunch. This time Gonvea led the Platoon, while Sergeant Pike ran beside me. Pike was gentler with me. He was more patient and even helped me when I thought I was going to pass out.

"Are you alright Gibbs," he said. "We don't want to loose you on the first day."

I looked at him with a pleading look, one that said "loose me, I feel like I'm dying," but then I picked up the pace a little, my legs being beyond fire. They were dead. Pike even let me by-pass the monkey bars and head directly into the mess hall. I picked up my food and plopped down next to Ormond.

"What is that?" said Ormond pointing to my meal.

"Fat boys get different meals than us specimens of manhood," cracked Krasnar.

"I can't live on this!" I said. "Toast, cottage cheese, a hard-boiled egg and an apple."

"Well, if you don't want it," said Krasnar, "I'll eat it."

"Don't pay attention to Krasnar," said Ormond. "He's always trying to get everyone's goat."

"Fuck you, Ormond."

"Behave yourself, Nick," said Avilia to Krasnar.

"For you dear, OK," said Krasnar with mock sweetness.

"So, what's your story, Gibbs?" said Ormond. "How did you even get into this man's Army at your size?"

"I don't know," I said. "I was surprised when they said I passed the physical - and I just couldn't hack it in basic."

"But still, that doesn't get you here," said Ormond. "Are you queer?"

"No," I said.

"Shit you aren't," said Krasnar. "He's as queer as you are Ormond."

"Shut the fuck up, Krasnar," said Ormond. "Avilia, can't you control your boyfriend there? I'm straight as an arrow. These fruits don't bother me though. I'm from Altoona, Pennsylvania. I knew a couple of queers up there, and they aren’t so bad. In fact, I'm trying to get some kind of leave out of this place. My fiancée, Alice, remember I showed you her picture - she's just told me she's pregnant. So I got to get home."

"I remember," I said. "She's a looker."

"Fucking A. You said you're from Brooklyn, like Hertbie. Hey Hertbie, Gibbs is from Brooklyn."

"I know," said Hertbie, "Hey, Gibbs. I'm from Bensenhurst . . ."

"Flatbush!" I said.

"Great."

"He's a gardener or something," said Ormond. "Where's your Brooklyn accent, Gibbs?"

"Lost it in college."

"How the hell did you get here if you were in college?" he said.

"A college man," mocked Krasnar. "Thinks he's better than we are."

"Shhh!" said Avilia.

"Well," I explained. "I had a deferment. But I lost it because I took one credit less than the minimum - and they got me."

"Well, smart ass boy," said Krasnar, "now you here staring at a starvation diet and daily runs to the gym."

When I heard the word "daily" I began to fill up.

"I don't think I can take another run to the gym."

"Well, get used to it," said Krasnar, "because after we finish here, we run back across that field and do some more."

I began to cry.

"Shut the fuck up Krasnar!" said Ormond. "We don't go there again today. We have classes this afternoon. And whatever you do, don't let them see you cry. It goes worse for us."

Krasnar was laughing hard now. Ormond picked up a knife and threatened him.

"If you don't shut that pie hole, I slice your fucking lips off."

"Ormond!" said Chauncier. "Sit down. If they see this we'll be up all night scrubbing toilets and stoking coal stoves again. I can't stand it anymore."

Ormond recovered while Krasnar just smirked.

"Gibbs, save your tears for the dark quiet hours at night. Meanwhile, eat this shit and hope we have a Mr. Dix run soon."

"What's that?"

"You'll love that," said Avilia, "it's really daring."

"Since we can't leave the Company area," explained Ormond looking around to assure no noncom was listening, "our free-time hours are limited to the barracks, the perimeter and the Company's little gym."

"There's a gym on the Company grounds?" I said.

"Yes, and useful too," said Avilia.

"Who would use that after all day slogging across the fields to do push-ups?" I asked.

"There's a place there to practice shooting hoops. Get it. Practice makes perfect. Get them hoop shots and no more laps around the big ass gym."

It made sense to me.

"But once in a while," continued Ormond, "one of us gets brave enough to sneak out on a Mr. Dix run to bring the rest of us back Cheeseburgers, Fries and Shakes."

"O what a dream," I said biting my apple.

"We have a pulley set up off the back stairs," said Avilia. "When the goodies are got, they're hoisted up the back way. Then it's yummy time."

They all began to laugh.

"Only the last time we got the food," said Ormond, "Sergeant Pike decided to do a barrack check. We all hopped into bed and put our food under the covers until he left. Only, Huey fell asleep with a strawberry milk shake. What a mess."

Avilia laughed. Tears welled up in his eyes.

"Oh hon," he said. "You should have seen the look on the quartermaster's face when we turned in linen that week and held up our sheets for a piss-the-bed check. Huey held up a sheet with a big red stain."

They caught themselves laughing too loud and brought it down. I felt better for that story.

"You're laughing now," said Ormond. "You may be in hell, but the residents are not so bad."

"It's like a prison," I said.

"Well the Army is like a prison for everyone, not just us."

"But more so for us," I said.

"So, welcome to the Gulag, hon," said Avilia. "FTA - you know - Fuck the Army."

"Don't flirt" carped Krasnar.

"Thank you all - well, almost all," I said.

"Don't mind Krasnar," said Avilia. "He's not even queer. He's just acting this way to get a discharge."

"Fuck you, dear," said Krasnar. "You're my better half."

"You certainly said that right!"

Sergeant Gonvea appeared and ordered us to assemble for class. At last I could sit on my ass and look over boring Uniform Code of Conduct and other mandatory military crap. The issue here was trying to stay awake. In fact, we had some free time after dinner; and I fell asleep immediately after my bowl of soup, roll, slice of turkey and some melon. I dozed right off with the drone of the television in the background. When I woke up abruptly the next morning, I could not move so sore was every muscle in my body. The only awareness I had was pain and hunger, the twin nemesis that would be my constant companion for the next several weeks. Add to that loneliness; and the military had indeed been victorious over this gay soul in denial.