At Camp Stewart, Jack almost got into real trouble. His relentless ardor and desire for guns had him buying a blue-steel .25 Beretta from a guy named Welker. Jack was very proud of his new pistol. While the boys played the customary dice almost constantly, Jack would enact fake holdups and most everyone knew of Jack's new piece.

When Welker came to borrow back the gun, Jack hardly hesitated. The night crew was leaving to perform guard duty and Welker would use his own bullets. This was the perfect time to practice out in the boonies. About half an hour later, Welker, breathlessly flipped the gun to Jack saying, "hide this quick". Without much delay, he hid it in his extra boots feeling confident in its resting place.

As a teenager Jack was destined to make some mistakes and do some things (stupid) he wasn't very proud of.

On one sultry hot lazy day, Jack while on guard duty walked the lonely confines of the motor pool.  With his fascination for guns, he whiled away the time loading and unloading his M-2 carbine.   Continuing to walk, he reslung the weapon.

Suddenly and without warning he noticed a Marine about 30 yards away in the next motor pool.  Stealthily, he positioned himself so the Marine couldn't see him.

  Compared to the M1 the carbine was a sweet, sweet weapon.  Jack was very adroit and capable with this weapon.   He shouldered it, and put the Marine in his sights.  Never did he squeeze the trigger.  Had he, the Marine would not have known from whence the shot had come.

Later, Jack thought to be sure about the piece being empty.  With the weapon still slung, he pulled with his thumb and heard, to his surprise the loud report that interrupted the Saturday silence.    Shocked, trembling and afraid the 18 year old quickly pulled himself together.

Now he was glad of several things.   Glad he hadn't pulled the trigger when he was aiming at the Marine, glad he had set the carbine on full automatic.  Only one thing left to do now, hide the fact that a round was missing and that it had been fired.

Looking around the area he found, first a length of commo wire.  Next he came upon a small swatch of cloth.  He dropped one end of the commo wire through the muzzle of the gun, tied the cloth and pulled it through.  When he was satisfied with the shiny barrel he slung the weapon and continued his guard duty.

At the end of the tour of duty, he simply threw along with all the others the magazine (clip to you civilians) on the desktop.  His deed went undiscovered.

When the unit arrived in Louisiana for what was billed as the largest, joint effort of peacetime manuevers, Jack was with his friends who had transferred to Tank Company. They had been selected as part of the Advanced Party. After unloading the tanks from the flatbed railroad cars, the boys sought entertainment in the local town. DeRidder, population about 2,000 boasted through Ripley's "Believe it or Not" of having the World's smallest Post Office. It was about the size of a phone booth!

After a hard day's work unloading the railroad flatbed cars, the brothers headed for some old-fashioned fun. Being tankers, they sported in shoulder holsters, the issued Army 1911A Colt .45s. Although empty, no one would know and they were still imposing looking weapons. Perhaps that's why someone from the company came running to tell them to bring back the weapons.

This time the trek was begun in earnest. After walking for a long while they came upon a tented area. It was being billed as a "Fair/ Rodeo". At the entrance stood a beefy, red faced man. The snakeskin boots and the truckers' belt buckle screamed "Caution" loudly in their ears. His stature and the lever action .30-.30 Winchester he cradled in the crook of his tanned arms was enough to know who was in charge.

At their indecision as to whether to enter or not elicited his drawled invitation. "You boys can come on in, we'll protect you". Looking askance at his gate partner and finishing with a question: "Won't we Bobby". With no other immediate plans, they entered. Shortly afterwards the Uncle Remus look-alike that they had spotted was telling them of a town "not but a little ways down the road". The old gray-haired man being the only black man around. The sexual libido in teenagers stays at a high level most of the time. The libido of a young Fort Bragg paratrooper is probably magnified many times. Despite their fatigue they left for the town, "a little ways down the road".

What happened next should have cooled their passions but instead whetted them. The fifties weren't the place to be for young blacks in the South. The six black men who had earlier left the rodeo were progressing along in the cool crisp night. Alerted only by the headlights of the car approaching them from the rear, the guys dove into the ditch, oblivious of the rattlers, scorpions and alligators that frequented the highways of this bayou country-side. Brushing themselves off, they spoke of maybe the carload of whites coming from the people at the rodeo. Hell, if they had asked nicely maybe the boys would have stayed longer. Much more attentive now, they flagged the passing Greyhound to complete their trip. Finding the dark side was easy. All the brothers had to do was walk along the railroad tracks to find what they were searching for.

Entering the small town like desperadoes the soldiers also found a source for sex, the local juke joint. With an old juke box along the wall juxtaposed to the counter and loudly blaring Faye Adam's "Shake a Hand". When the music stopped none of the indigenous indigents made a move to refurbish the Wurlitzer. Jack and Gene Banks sauntered to the music maker and with twenty-five cents apiece made the joint come alive again. "Work with me Annie" by The Midnighters had the place jumping and people started dancing.

Jack did not, could not and would not dance fast. Added to his inability to hold a meaningful conversation with the opposite sex, his non-participation in most dancing further curtailed his chances for success. Despite his short-comings in talking with the women, Jack remained quite a magnet. His adolescent pimples hidden by the the omnipresent cap, Jack was extremely handsome. Women gravitated toward him and shied away later when they felt he wasn't interested. Of course the boy actually wanted to make out but always lost to more experienced guys.

Tonight wasn't going to be any different. Two of the girls looking for the same thing as the boys somehow were summoned to the troopers' table. They made it clear enough that some food and drink could secure them for the rest of the evening. How much easier could it get? People in small towns always seemed to know or somehow sense soldiers. Maybe the whitewall haircuts, the fact of being in a group, whatever it was there was no fooling folks. Often the male population in these towns became very resentful. That was not a problem tonight. Not surprisingly, the girls, Betty Ann and Verna were immediately interested in Jack, especially Betty Ann. She and Jack made small talk with Betty Ann leading the way. With "Such a Night" playing in the background the young fox invited Jack to dance. Jack might have hidden his inability to dance had the next song "Goodnight, Sweetheart, Goodnight" been playing . He was an expert grinder and often quoted "they call me coffee ‘cause I grind so fine".

This was not going to work this time. Hollowell fromNorth Carolina stood up, danced with the girl and Jack's chances were heading south. When later on the other Southern Belle wanted Jack to dance, again an upbeat song, "Honey Love" was blasting. The girls wanted to jitterbug now and slowdance later... in the horizontal position. When the couples were paired up and the girls told their dates how and where the local motel, a room rented by the widow with a spare room or two,was located. It was time to leave, everyone said their good-byes and Jack feeling that once again he had failed his number one goal, to get a piece of ass. It had been a good while since Shirley, and the old diseased whore. The failed time, included made it nearly three and a half long years.

Outside the joint the MPs came rolling down the street. All the fellas were dressed in fatigues and that spelled deep trouble. For the second time tonight they dove into the brush. When the air cleared, guess what?. Jack was with the couples and everybobody else was gone. With no place else to go and stranded in a strange town, he accompanied the lovers to the love nest. He managed to cajole both buddies to turn him on after they were through. Surely the guys didn't care, they were with one-night stands and knew they would never see these girls again.

With the secret arrangements made, Jack waited silently in the cold dark room. To be fully prepared, Jack stripped to his long underwear, crossed his legs and made the best of an awkward situation. Hollowell, first to finish, came over in the darkness to tap Jack on the shoulder. In great anticipation, Jack deftly approached the Creole beauty. With visions of sugarplums dancing around in his swirling noggin, he knelt between the Cajun legs. Balancing himself on his left hand, he put the hardened meatus in the mass of still wet pubic hair. He shuddered not from the chill in the room but from the vivid thought of penetrating this dark orifice. During the first session both couples had complained about not having enough space on this single bed. Jack had absolutely no complaints, he was happy to just be here with this teenage doll. Unable to get through the thick hair, he shifted slightly and everything became unglued. Struggling to right himself he inadvertently touched her silky shoulder with his cold hand. This dastardly act was a dead giveaway.

Betty Ann trying to not look like the whore she was, bellowed, "WHO IS THIS". Pissed off but only slightly embarrassed, Jack, in his best Hollowellian imitation, replied, "Hollowell". It didn't work. Incensed, the vixen broke Western and came out of her bag with, "I don't play that f----- s---" and pushed Jack off her. This was all grandstand and Jack knew that for just a slightly different situation he would already have been in her ass. By now Marshall had finished. He too, came and tapped Jack. Jack undaunted by what had just happened, dutifully rose and began to fondle and caress Verna. Without a word of protest, she lay there and prepared to take Jack. She was well aware of what was going on and she was going to try to enjoy her night to the utmost. The talk of the bed being too small was brought to fruition when the man with the remarkable recuperative powers had again risen to the occasion.

Jack wasn't always destined to lose. The group, with their trips to Raleigh on weekends, led to their meeting of some friends with a place to stay. The scene was the Colonnade, local night spot at the time. Walter Ware started dancing with Myrtle Liza and she fell head over heels in love with him. She lived in a house that her ex-husband had left her and invited the boys over. After that it was breakfast and bed for all of them.

One morning after a tough night of drinking at the Colonnade, Jack awoke to find asleep in the same bed, a nubile princess. She was more fucked up than he was. He arose and checked to see where everyone else was. Smelling the bacon and coffee, he knew instinctively it was time to make his move. The nubian was slobbering and the spittle ran down the corner of her lipstick smeared mouth. All this negativity made no nevermind to Jack . He was on a mission.

With the stealth of an old pro he crawled back on the bed. Monice's legs were straight and her inebriation caused Jack some problems. She was thinner than Jack liked but beggars should not be choosy and today he was not going to hesitate. With his blood engorged dick nestled in the palm of his right hand, he deftly parted the thick, curly black pubic hair. Monice tried to turn away, but the determined trooper held steadfast until her urge to turn eased. The rape was going to happen and nobody was going to find out. He slowly wedged his own legs between her straightened legs. She moaned softly. At least Jack perceived the sound as a moan. With his inexperience how was he to know.

He once again listened for the sounds of gaiety from the kitchen. The laughter allayed his fears and he used his left thumb and forefinger to ease the entrance. Inch by swollen inch the intruder crept in the dark, warm, moist lovenest. Jack raised the girl's thin buttocks slightly off the bed. He pumped with the speed of a jackhammer, no pun intended. More and more, faster and faster came his movements. Uncaring now about being discovered, his mind blank as he rocked and rolled for all he was worth. The motion produced an ocean. The copious flow flooded the young girl's cavity and spilled over like water from an over-filled cup. Jack quickly dismounted. He had a strange but happy feeling. Slightly miffed becaused Monice hadn't responded more to the rather hefty salami she had just engulfed, and relieved she hadn't woke up and exposed his dastardly deed.