Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Molestation Preview 07 - Cannon


MILITARY SCHOOL

“I’ve always resented anyone suggesting that I experimented with drugs. I have occasionally exposed myself to drugs (mostly marijuana) to gain the confidence of those who did experiment. I never expected to gain spiritual or other pleasure from it. The closest thing to psychological experimentation I could consider would be Buddhism. The only drug experimentation I really seek concerns the alleviation of my asthma, Parkinson’s, osteoarthritis, or lethargy--such as Red Bull. That having been said, not everyone caught in a compromising position arrived there through planning or experimentation. For some it is in their genes, for some in their karma, and for some in their disenfranchisement from the American Dream.”

--the author


7 - Cannon

When Francis entered Cannon Military Academy, he knew his life was over, as he had known it.
He was happy to be free of constantly reading the Bible. Golda had broadened his horizons. He knew there was more than the Nazarene Church. There was a whole, big world out there and he wanted to learn.
Nevertheless, he wondered how much he could learn in the confines of these drab gray walls.
His mother had told him, “If you can’t be a Christian, then you’re next best service to God is to learn the military. You’re going to pay for your fascination with Yiddish skirts. I don’t want you getting a girl in trouble anyway. You’re a man and men are no good. Men should find their happiness with men, so that they don’t bring unhappiness to women. A man can’t do any good for a woman. If you grow up to fight in a war, maybe I can be proud of you again. I would rather you died with your lover by your side in a foxhole than that you lived to get young girls pregnant and fat.”
Francis did not want to learn how to fight. He did not want to be isolated with all men and boys. Nevertheless, his mother had handed him a script to live and he had seldom purposely gone against her.
He was shown to his room. He had to sleep in a room with seven other boys stacked in bunk beds. There were four desks in the room and two boys shared each desk. One worked on his homework in the morning and his partner worked on his homework in the afternoon. The middle of the day was spent learning the rigors of military discipline, military code of conduct, respect for authorities, and military skills.
Every morning, they had to show up for inspection, in front of the general assembly hall. They had to be there at 7 am. They had to be clean-showered and shampooed. Their teeth had to be brushed. Their shoes had to be spit shined. Their long-sleeved shirts and long-legged pants had to be pressed, with sharp and perfect creases, and had to be lint free. Their belt buckles had to be polished. Their shirt pockets had to be sewn into two compartments--a narrow one, and a wide one. The wide compartment had a tablet of paper that just fit. The narrow compartment had a short pencil with no eraser and a sharp point. Their regulation hats had to be one index finger width above where the right ear met the skull and two finger widths above their left eyebrow.
If any of these conditions were not met, the punishment was severe and at the whim of the squad leader. Sometimes the squad leader would turn over the discipline of his man to Major General Wayne Brautigan--but this was frowned on as a sign of weakness and inability to make decisions under pressure. To do so, was to risk never being promoted again and having a negative remark entered on his record.
The punishments varied.
There was the Authority. The Authority was a stick of resilient and hard wood. It had lightning holes drilled in it and was administered to the buttocks with all the ferocity the squad leader could muster.
The Gauntlet was chosen by squad leaders, who were less eager to administer all of the punishment by themselves. Nevertheless, it was admired by the General Staff as a method of showing that when one man went astray it hurt the entire squad. The entire squad lined up with their legs spread. The errant soldier was made to crawl on his hands and knees from the front to the back of the line of waiting squad members--between their legs. As he past beneath each member, that member would hit him as hard as he could with his bare hands.
Demerits were given to each squad for each member that required discipline.
The squads then formed up and demonstrated their marching skills one at a time. They marched in order that was determined by the number of demerits they had accumulated that morning. The squad with the least demerits went first. In case of a tie, order was determined by the accumulated demerits of that squad for the week, month, or year.
Left oblique march, right oblique march, counter march, about face, left flank march, ad nauseam. If there was a marching command that ever had been invented, these squadrons tried to learn it. Demerits were given for every misstep or failure to follow a command. At the end, they all lined up in front of the Major General for his approval. If there had been no gross errors in the conduct of their field maneuvers, they were allowed to enter the mess hall.
There were always eight squadrons. The boys or, as the Major General called them, men were assigned as equally as possible to the various squads.
When the eight squads entered the mess hall, they sat at one of eight numbered tables, in the order they entered. The first squad to enter sat at table one, etc.
Table One had pancakes with marmalade, eggs sunny side up, smoke links, milk, orange juice, and a biscuit at each setting.
Table Two had standard pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, milk, orange juice, and a biscuit.
Table Three had hash browns, scrambled eggs, bacon, orange juice, and a biscuit.
Table Four had hash browns, boiled eggs, bacon, grapefruit juice, and a biscuit.
Table Five had hash browns, boiled eggs, Canadian bacon, and grapefruit juice.
Table Six had granola with milk, orange juice, and a glass of milk.
Table Seven had oatmeal with milk and orange juice.
Table Eight had hominy grits and milk.
Suffice to say that dinner and supper were served along the same lines with substitutions made for the time of day.
Although tastes differ, it was agreed that there was great competition to sit at tables one through three and to avoid tables six through eight.
A man may prefer hominy grits, but was it worth it to try for them and get stuck with oatmeal, or vice versa?
The ‘men’ seemed to have no self-direction. They were there to please the Major General and he was there to see that they did. Francis asked them about various things in the world and they looked at him vacantly. He could see it in their eyes, “And so what does that have to do with who sits at table one?”
His first morning, he ate hominy grits. He had had no pencil in his pocket nor was it even sewn up. There was dust on his cap. He had skipped showering because of the cold and because he was not used to showering with a bunch of other boys. Showering was embarrassing. Some of the older boys would dance in the showers with their penis standing up until something came out. Francis did not dare ask what it was, or how they got themselves to stand up.
During the field drill, the order left flank oblique march left him all by himself heading left while everyone else marched obliquely. The man behind him bumped into him and the both fell down and became dusty.

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