“On your feet recruit!” a voice bellowed directly behind her.
Lory jumped up in surprise and turned around.
“Did you think that duffel will climb in the truck all by itself?” the owner of the voice sneered.
She looked down at his upper arm, where the three line chevron on his rank insignia instantly told her that he was a sergeant.
“Do you understand English?” the man hissed. “Get your duffel in the truck, recruit!”
In a split second Lory understood that he was not just any sergeant. He was the sergeant they have been warned about. Apparently he was about to make their lives hell.
She scurried to the truck, threw her bag in and rushed over to the other truck where the she joined the rest of the recruits of her platoon. The platoon had been divided into four squads and she had the unfortunate luck to be dealt in with the squad that would be commanded by the only male sergeant in the female training camp. In the first three weeks of her military career the platoon had been under the command of a lieutenant – also a woman. Even though the lieutenant was strict, she wasn’t mean.
The truck started moving and turned onto the road leading to the highway and taking them further away from the training camp. The buildings of their training camp disappeared as they rounded a bend in the road. Lory knew she would only see those buildings again after four weeks, if she got through the field training. If not, she would be back here much earlier, get her civilian stuff and return to her life outside the army.
Why did I ever think I could make a success of this? Lory had asked herself this question a million times since she arrived in the training camp. But, she knew the answer. She had signed up for military training because she needed something to focus on after Peter ran off with her best friend. Shame and humiliation took hold of her when she found out. It was such a cliche – a boyfriend running off with a girl’s best friend. So cliche, that she wanted to crawl in a hole and hide from the world out there. Whispered conversations went on around her after she and Peter had broken up. No one talked to her about it, but everyone discussed her broken relationship. One day in a coffee bar she overheard such a conversation. That was the same day that she saw the advert in the paper. In a whim Lory signed up for military service and a week later she was on the bus, heading towards the training facility and starting a totally new life.
Those three weeks were filled with theory classes, physical training, marching around the parade ground, inspections of the dorms and little sleep. At least they slept in beds, for the little hours that they were allowed to sleep at night. They were always up at four in the morning to make their beds, tidy up, polish the floors, shower, get dressed and be ready for inspection by 5.30am. Breakfast followed, then a full morning program, lunch at noon, an afternoon program, dinner at 6pm and then an evening class. By the time they were back in the dorm, all they had energy for was to shower and sleep. Up to now Lory had no time to socialize with any of the girls. Some women had formed groups, but she did not belong to any of those groups. This made her feel lonely and depressed. She literally had no one to talk to.
Lory looked around in the truck to the other women. Some women were half asleep, others were talking to each other in whispered voices. The woman next to Lory was just staring into space, not looking at anything in particular.
“Did you see the sergeant?” Lory asked in a soft voice.
In slow motion the woman turned her head and looked at Lory as if she saw her for the very first time. Lory knew that they both were in the same squad.
“Which sergeant?” the woman asked.
“The male one.”
“Ah! Sergeant Brute. Yes, I saw the ass hat.”
Her voice was filled with contempt. A giggle escaped Lory. This was the first time she heard the sergeant’s nickname and it was totally fitting. His name really was Sergeant Bruce, but she liked Sergeant Brute a lot better. That one word captured everything he was – his attitude, his manner of speaking, his appearance. Her smile quickly disappeared when she saw the expression on the other woman’s face. She was obviously not impressed with Lory’s smile.
“He’s the best sergeant there is, I’ve heard,” she said in an attempt to engage the woman in a conversation.
“The best. The meanest. A beast.”
With those words the woman turned her head forward again and stared into space again. Obviously the conversation was over, according to her.
Lory closed her eyes. She repeated the words in her head: best, meanest, beast. Why did her fellow squad member call him a beast? The other two she understood – she had heard a couple of rumors about him, but she did not understand why he was called a beast. Peter was timid in bed. The random thought crossed her mind unexpectedly. Lory sighed and pushed it away. She didn’t want to think about that. She wanted to forget that Peter ever existed.
“Ah, a sleeping beauty.”
Lory slowly opened her eyes. In front of her was the silhouette of a man. The sun behind his head blinded her and she could not make out his face. Several moments she had no idea where she was and what had happened, until the silhouette spoke again and she recognized the voice.
“You are going to be a handful, aren’t you, recruit?”
“No, Sir,” Lory said and straightened up, ready to get up.
His finger pressed right between her breasts and pushed her back against the side of the truck where she had fallen asleep. The thought of him being very close to her breasts shot through her mind, but his words instantly made her forget that.
“Sir? Do not dare call me Sir! I’m not a fucking officer, I work for my money, recruit! You call me Sergeant. Is. That. Clear?”
In rhythm with the last three words he poked her with his finger, touching the soft flesh of her breasts once on each side, the last poke right in the middle again.
To be continued… Sergeant Brute (2)
© Rebel’s Notes
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