I'll Be Your Drill, Soldier!

by Crystal Rose

  I’ll Be Your Drill, Soldier

  Smashwords Edition

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

  I’ll Be Your Drill Solider Copyright © 2009 by Crystal Rose, All rights reserved

  I’ll Be Your Drill, Soldier Cover Art © 2009 Juanita Campbell for Dark Roast Press

  Smashword Edition, License Notes

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book & did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return to Smashwords.com or Darkroastpress.com & purchase your own copy.

  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  I’ll Be Your Drill, Soldier

  By

  Crystal Rose

  SMASHWORDS EDITION

  Note to readers: Although this reads like our Army and our war, this is purely fiction. This is set in a world where everyone is treated the same regardless of sexual orientation-- like it should be.

  Chapter One

  Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri was hot as hell in the spring and even hotter in the summer, which happened to be the time that Ryan Gracin arrived for basic training. The first thing he realized was he damn sure wasn't in Ohio any more, and secondly, there wasn't a pair of ruby red slippers to get him home either.

  Their arrival was a rather low-key affair for the Army. Only two Drill Sergeants met their bus. Ryan was jarred out of peaceful sleep by the gruff no nonsense screams of he who would later be known as Staff Sergeant Robert Beaver.

  “GET YOUR PANSY FUCKING ASSES OUT OF THIS BUS, ON THE FUCKING DOUBLE!” roared the voice of the graying Sergeant. “WHAT ARE YOU FUCKING PUSSIES WAITING FOR, A FUCKING ENGRAVED INVITATION?”

  The sounds of several recruits saying 'oh shit!' and 'I think I seriously fucked up when I signed up,' could be heard chorusing throughout the bus.

  It was mid-day and the heat was oppressive. The sun glared down on the new enlisted men, and most of them were nearly panting. Bags were grabbed, and they all lined up. Ryan took that time to glance at both Drill Sergeants some more. One was an older man, whose hair was turning gray, and he looked like he was at least thirty years older than Ryan's own twenty-two. ‘Beaver’ was proudly announced on the man's name tag, which Ryan found really hilarious for some reason. It wasn't all that surprising that he actually giggled.

  For a man that looked to be old...old, he moved like the freaking wind. SSG Beaver was not only in Ryan's face in no time flat, but his rounded hat was inches from Ryan's forehead.

  “Oh, look, Drill Sergeant Roach, we have a pretty boy who likes to make jokes. Is there a joke you want to tell the class, pretty boy?” Beaver called to his buddy. “Tell us a joke, funny man.”

  Jeff Roach was shorter than Ryan by at least a few inches but when the man stood at his side, Ryan felt honest to God fear. “Hell, son, I love a good joke, tell us a joke.” The voice was so soft, and so smooth. It sounded like the guy really did want to hear a joke.

  “Oh wait, I know a great joke, Jeff. Stop me if you heard this before. There once was a man from Nantucket...” Beaver said, still staring at Ryan. “Now, tell me the joke, son. We all love a good joke around here.”

  Ryan froze. He could feel a giggle wanting to come out of him. He tried to picture anything that didn't involve the two men in front of him, ‘cause he was a giggler when he got nervous. He was the guy at whom everyone glared at funerals because something struck him funny, and he couldn't stop laughing. The giggle threatened even harder when the gray-haired man puffed up.

  “I said tell me a fucking joke, unless I'm the fucking joke. Am I the fucking Joke, Private?” Spittle came from the shorter man and landed on Ryan's chin.

  That was all it took. One minute he was containing the giggle, and then next he burst into hysterical laughter.

  “I'll be fucked; I think he thinks you are the joke, Robert!” Roach exclaimed. “This little fucker thinks you’re a joke.”

  Ryan paled, even as he laughed even harder. Oh fuck, they were going to kill him, and make it look like a training accident.

  “Oh, so I'm the fucking joke? Do you think I'm the fucking joke, Private?” he asked, sincerely looking hurt.

  Ryan tried to speak, but those damn nervous giggles kept on coming. He took a deep breath, and managed a brief-- “No, Sir. I don't think you’re a joke!”

  Jeff let out a breath of disgust. “Oh, so he's fucking lazy too?”

  Robert's eyes widened and he suddenly looked like he was ten feet tall. “So, you think I'm not funny. That's what he said, Jeff. He thinks I'm not fucking funny, and I'm fucking lazy. Little bastard.”

  Ryan blinked. What the...Shit. “You’re funny, Sir,” he added, hoping to keep the man from having a heart attack.

  “So, I AM a fucking joke?” Robert snarled. “Am I, a fucking Staff Fucking Sergeant in the greatest Military in the world, a fucking joke to some fucked up little piss-ant of a pussy?”

  What the fuck? Ryan could feel the giggles stop instantly. Now, what was he supposed to say? He would kill his fucking recruiter; they didn't mention that nothing he said would be right. “No, sir, you’re not a joke, but you are funny?” Ryan finally answered, praying that was the right thing to say.

  “Oh, so now you want to be a funny man? I swear to fucking God, the Army is so hard up, they send us fucking funny men to serve this great nation,” SSG Beaver said, shaking his head sadly.

  “I would be more pissed at being called lazy than a joke,” Jeff offered.

  Robert paused to consider it. “I'll give him a pass on that one. Seeing how he doesn't know that officers are called Sir, and I'm a Staff Sergeant, so maybe he doesn't realize I work for a living.”

  And, just like that they both stalked off and started in on a guy named Brendon or Michael. Ryan let out a relieved sigh.

  ***

  A week later, Ryan finally figured out something. He did not want to be in the United States Army, because it was blatantly obvious that the men that were already in were abso'fucking'lutely crazy. He was quite sure they were perfectly normal before they went in, but something about this job had sent them straight to Lala land. They were finishing with reception, and would be doled out into their new units when they actually went to basic. That was another fact that his recruiter never told him about. This was supposed to give them a taste of military life. Instead, they stuck them with two men that could have been stand-ins for R. Lee Emery during ‘Full Metal Jacket.’

  He had met and become fast friends with another guy, who hailed from Oklahoma. Patrick Smith was the cool guy Ryan wished he could be. He took everything in stride. A Drill Sergeant yelled at him. He just said 'yes, Drill Sergeant' and that was that. He didn't giggle like a girl when he was yelled at. He didn't cry like Brendon Murray did when SSG Roach told him that his girl was probably out fucking some guy named Jodi. And he didn't cuss out SSG Beaver, just because he thought he could get away with it, since his daddy was a Major, like Kenneth Roslin did. Later he cried worse than Brendon did when both Drill Sergeants schooled him on Military manners. SSG Beaver and DSG Roach wer
e fucking insane men who thought that yelling and screaming were the only two available forms of communications. On the first day, they went and had all their hair shaved off. SSG Beaver made it a point to tell Ryan he looked like an ass end of a St. Bernard. On the second day, they got their new uniforms, and graduated from fucking pussies to just plan ole pussies.

  It didn't surprise Ryan at all when they were all lined up, in their perfectly pressed uniforms, and told they were going to go see “Big Daddy”. Shit you not, they said Big Daddy. Patrick even mouthed the name back at Ryan.

  “Alright, boys. Your stay with SSG Beaver and my cozy little home is done. Now, you're heading to the craziest fucking home in the world. Big Daddy has been waiting on you fucks since you first got here. I told him this was the most fucked up platoon in the history of fucked up platoons. He wants to personally make sure you little fuck-wits won't get yourself or some other poor SOB killed.”

  “I can't wait until Grabowski sees you piss-ants. Hell, I may take a video camera and a bucket of beer. He's gonna love you little pussies right to death,” Robert Beaver crowed. He put a heavy emphasis on death.

  “Hell, I woulda thought they got rid of Grabowski when he killed that other recruit last phase, but I guess when you need the soldiers you keep even the crazy fuckers,” Roach intoned. “I bet he'll make Gracin his new BFF, take him on romantic dinners, and shit.”

  Ryan had been there long enough to know that being the crazy Drill Sergeant’s new BFF was not a good thing. He winced visibly. Yeah, he didn't want to even meet the new Sergeant. When he was able to leave this crazy farm, he would find his recruiter and kill that son of a bitch with all the new fancy killing techniques that Uncle Sam was teaching him.

  The cattle truck, and yes, it was a cattle truck, much to Ryan's dismay, seemed to drive to their new home slowly. Every man in the truck looked for all intents and purposes like men heading to their deaths. The ride was difficult under normal circumstances, but now an uneasy quiet descended on each and every boy/man in the thing. The heat was so oppressive that several were taking deep breaths and some looked faint. Even normally calm Patrick's blue gaze was darting back and forth nervously.

  Ryan was still mulling over the Drill Sergeant called “Big Daddy” Gas-y something or other. He was fairly sure that the whole killing a recruit thing was just to make them more nervous than they already were. But, of course, it could be true, which made Ryan want to giggle like a mad man. Fuck, he seriously hated the Army.

  The cattle car lurched to a stop.

  For ten long seconds, nothing happened. They all started looking around expectantly, like they thought someone would just magically appear in their midst. When none did, a few smiles broke out. Maybe reception was the worst of it all. Maybe the actual training wasn't all that bad. Just as that hopeful thought entered their minds it was dashed when they heard the scream.

  “GET OUT OF MY FUCKING CATTLE CAR! AND DON'T FUCKING SCRATCH THE PAINT OR I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!”

  That was all the motivation they needed to scramble out of the cattle car, past a tall dark-haired man who looked like he was Superman or something.

  Another Drill Sergeant started pointing to the places he wanted them to stand, which they weren't doing right, because he dropped everyone and made them do push-ups until half thought they were going to puke, and the other half did.

  Finally they managed to get all lined up, alphabetically. Ryan once again cursed his last name. He would much prefer to be in the back behind all of the others. Instead he would have a front row seat for the hell that was Drill Sergeant Phillip Grabowski.

  “I am Drill Sergeant King. And this is Drill Sergeant Connelly. And-- we are your new mommy and daddy for the next eight fucking weeks. Now, I know ya'll have heard about Drill Sergeant Grabowski, and he's not as bad as they say,” Drill Sergeant King said with a friendly grin. And that grin was just bad fucking news, according to the scuttle butt Ryan had heard before he left for this god forsaken place.

  Drill Sergeant Connelly just laughed evilly. “No, he's much fucking worse.” That seemed to be a cue, because as soon as that was said they heard a door slam, and looked forward to where another man was coming straight for them.

  The tallest man Ryan had ever seen walked slowly down the steps of the building directly in front of them. His hair was cut short, and the cadre round bill hat was firmly on. His uniform looked like it was tailored to suit a man his size. The cuffs were neatly folded around bulging muscles that made Ryan want to cry. His boots were so shiny they reflected the sun. He had to be at least a good three feet taller than Ryan himself. He couldn't get a look at the man's face, but he was sure it would be ugly. It had to be, because the crazy SOB, Sergeant Grabowski wouldn't be handsome. He couldn't be.

  “Eyes forward, Gracin. This isn't a nudie show. SSG Grabowski will love knowing how you were eyeballing him though.” Drill Sergeant King snapped Ryan's head forward until he was staring straight ahead.

  Fuck. Good fucking way to start a bad fucking day.

  Ryan kept his eyes forward, and had to squelch the need to gulp when the mysterious SSG Grabowski strolled by without even pausing to stop. So, far he hadn't said a word. He just walked through the lines.

  Ryan could feel his fellow soldiers tensing. Hell; he wanted to run like the wind. The other ones were really loud, but not SSG Grabowski. He just continued his walk like he was taking a leisurely stroll in the park.

  Once he went around each and every man, he walked slowly to the front. Unlike Sergeants Connelly and King, he never raised his voice.

  “My name is Staff Sergeant Grabowski. Welcome to Charlie 3/10. This will be your new home for the next eight weeks, and it's my job to personally see that each of you are fit, and trained properly.” For a Drill Sergeant, he was remarkably soft-spoken. He didn't yell, or scream. He just spoke like they were all hanging out. “Do not test my patience, because I have none. Is this understood?”

  “Yes, Drill Sergeant!” came the answering cry.

  “I can't hear you.”

  “YES, DRILL SERGEANT!” This time, it was a battle cry. Each man shouted from their diaphragm.

  “Good.” The man began walking again. This time he did stop in front of Ryan.

  Ryan kept his green gaze straight forward, not looking at the man, which was not hard, since his eyes were level with the strong chin of the Drill Sergeant.

  “Gracin. I’ve heard of you.” Really, the man's voice was nice. It was deep, and had a nice cadence to it. Yeah, Ryan would admit it was kinda gay, but he was gay so he figured that was okay.

  “Yes, Drill Sergeant,” he said, trying to keep his military posture as much as possible.

  “Private, I would appreciate if you looked at me while I was talking to you,” SSG. Grabowski said.

  That's all the instruction Ryan needed. He finally, actually looked at the man. He felt his breath being stolen from his body. The man was absolutely gorgeous. His face was perfectly shaped, intense hazel eyes met his green ones, and for a moment, Ryan wondered if he was allowed to lust after the man. He felt he could, due to the fact that the Military finally got over the 'Don't ask, don't tell' crap, and allowed gays in the Military.

  Drill Sergeant J Phillip Grabowski was fucking sex on a stick. Ryan hadn't felt like this for any guy since David, back in high school. Hell, he hadn't even thought about David like this.

  A slow, lazy, dimpled grin formed on the Drill Sergeant’s face. One that caused Ryan to smile back.

  Ryan actually, was kinda sorry he’d had all those unkind thoughts about the man. He seemed...different than the others they had dealt with so far.

  That thought proved to be so fucking wrong, Ryan didn't even want to go into detail how wrong he was. Not only was Grabowski as insane as everyone made him out to be, he was fucking evil as hell.

  “Aww, how cute. Look, William, I think Private Gracin has a crush on me,” Grabowski called, his eyes never leaving Ryan's. “Do you have a crush on me, Private
?”

  Ryan's smile froze. Fuck. He could feel a giggle. So, instead of speaking, he shook his head.

  “Wrong Private. You will answer me when I ask you a question. So tell me, do you have a crush on me?”

  At this point, Ryan knew saying anything would be wrong, but saying nothing would be wrong too. So, he answered. “No, Drill Sergeant Ga...G...Gas...”

  His eyebrows rose clear to his hair line. “So, I'm not worthy of being crush material then?” Phillip asked.” Am I that fucking ugly?”

  “God, no. I mean no, Drill Sergeant.” Ryan didn't even try to say his name again.

  “Drill Sergeant Grabowski,” the other man supplied, and waited for Ryan to say it.

  “Drill Sergeant Grabowski.”

  “Good, now, back to our conversation. So, you do have a crush on me? Come on, Gracin, make up your mind.” He growled. “Do you think I'm easy, is that why you’re crushing on me?”

  Ryan colored, and snapped his eyes straight forward. “No, Drill Sergeant Grabowski, I don't think you're easy.”

  “I think he does, Phillip. Hell that would piss me off,” Connelly offered, coming over to stand at Phillip’s side.

  “Yup, he thinks you’re a slut, Phillip,” William King added, as if Grabowski needed a reason to hate Ryan even more.

  “I'm a slut? Do you think that?” Phillip asked and with that fucking evil ass grin firmly planted on his face. “Am I easy, Private Gracin? Is that what you heard?”

  No, as a point of fact, that was not what Ryan had heard. He had heard that Drill Sergeant Grabowski was fucking insane, and he liked to kill the people who pissed him off. “No, Drill Sergeant Grabowski!” he shouted.

  “Oh so now I'm a prude. IS that what you think, Private Gracin?”

  There comes a point in the whole process where even the strong break. Ryan figured he's rapidly approaching his. He felt the giggles start. Before he even managed to breathe, he was giggling like crazy...again.