dontravis.com
blog post #482
Photo Courtesy of en.wikipedia.org
At the end of Part 2, Technical Sergeant Bley hung around even though he was off duty. He obviously wanted to talk privately to his second, Sergeant Bemis.
****
WHIZ QUIZ WASHOUT
“Don’t you think
it’s time to ease up on Corso?” I asked. “He’s handled everything you can throw
at him like a trooper.”
“Shit no, Tom!”
he snapped. “He’s a queer, and I want him out. And I’m gonna break him yet.”
I rose and stood
in front of him. “No, you’re not. You’re going to treat him like everyone else.
He gets his dose of bullshit, but no more. There’s not a shred of evidence the
kid’s homo. He’s as much man as any of them.”
“How come you
standing up—”
“I stand up for
all my men. That’s my job! Yours, too, Staff Sergeant Biers. We’re not here to
vent our private prejudices on these trainees. We’re here to make airmen out of
them.”
“Shit, Tech
Sergeant. To my mind, getting a hard-on for your Pecker-Checker is evidence.”
“Nothing like
that happened, Wayne,” I sat back down and tried to ease things a little.
“You calling me
a liar?” His redheaded dander was rising.
“No. I’m saying
you misunderstood the medic. I talked to the man, myself.”
“Well, fuck,
Tom. Never thought you’d take a pickle’s side against me!”
“I’m not taking
anyone’s side. I’m just saying treat him like anyone else. Do you hear me?”
“I hear you.
Loud and clear!”
It seemed to me
he’d said that before.
***
Discord among
TIs is not a desirable thing, but it happens often enough. We were both well
trained, and I doubt any of the flight noticed the clouded air between us. They
had all they could handle struggling with the PC final assessment, meeting Air
Force personal hygiene standards, keeping spotless quarters, a second clothing
issue, learning the military codes and courtesies, and drilling—endless drill
pad marches, road marches, cross-country marches, parade marches. Handling all
that and trying to satisfy two of the meanest motherfuckers they’d ever
run into, their Training Instructors, gave us cover for our strained
relationship.
I kept a sharp
eye on Wayne, and while he tended to pick Corso for the shit details, the real
harassment reverted to an acceptable level. After another week, I relaxed my
vigil. I shouldn’t have.
At the beginning
of WOT 4, I arrived for the morning set-up to find pandemonium in the dorm. I
walked halfway through the bay before anyone noticed me and called the flight
to attention. Then trainees in various stages of dress scampered for their
bunks, abandoning the two men scrambling up off the floor. Corso and Flight
Leader Windle had obviously been fighting. Wayne’s pet hadn’t been doing well.
Windle nursed a split lip; Corso didn’t have a mark on him. I noticed that the
two had been mixing it up down near Corso’s bunk. That meant Windle had
approached Corso. When Biers breezed in, prepared to let out a bellow, I took
charge, holding up a hand to stop Windle from returning to his bunk.
“Stay right
there, Trainee Windle!” I disdained his title of Flight Leader to raise the
man’s anxiety level. “I’m not going to ask what’s going on because I don’t want
to know.” I raised my voice and acted like a TI, “I won’t have personal fights
in my flight! Is that clear?”
“Sir, yes sir!”
they shouted in unison.
“If you haven’t
learned you’re a team by now,” I bellowed, “then I doubt you’ll ever learn it!
Nobody…nobody…is going to disrupt
this flight. I’ll ship the two of you out before that happens. Do you
understand me?”
“Sir, yes sir!”
“I can’t hear
you, ladies!”
“Sir…yes…sir!”
They would have made a good chorus; they sang on key.
“Nothing will go
into the record…this time! But if
there’s ever a next time, you’re dead meat. Now drop and give me twenty and
then go get yourselves cleaned up!”
I caught the
look in Wayne’s eyes and understood what had happened. He’d allowed his
personal prejudice to poison his judgment. He’d probably told Windle about his
suspicions and suggested that the Flight Leader take care of the problem. Corso
hadn’t been willing to take shit from another trainee like he did from his TI.
Good for Corso.
Wayne pouted for
the rest of the day.
***
The chickens
came home to roost near the end of the week. Wayne Biers had set things in motion
by calling my attention to Justin Corso that first week, and now, damn his
eyes, I was getting sucked in deeper and deeper. I found myself thinking about
the good-looking trainee more than was normal. Fuckups usually dominated my
time, but Corso was no screw-up. He was one of the best in the flight.
The Supply
Officer issues and controls supplies, but most TIs store a few items for use
during field training. I scrounged up a detail on Saturday and commandeered a
truck for the two-mile drive to the Quonset hut housing the equipment. I’m not
certain whether I brought Corso along by accident or design. Whatever the
reason, he was one of the five trainees I tapped for the detail.
****
Are
things coming to a head? Looks to me like it.
Now
my mantra: Keep on reading and keep on writing. You have something to say…
so say it!
My
personal links:
Email:
don.travis@aol.com.
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@dontravis3
See
you next Thursday.
Don
New Posts every Thursday morning at 6:00 a.m. US Mountain time.
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