Cadet - 13. Cadet Second Class • II

“EYES ON ME, BASIC!” Ritch’s shout made the cadet lift her sight from whatever she found fascinating on the ground. She finally locked eyes with him. “What’s so interesting about your shoes? You either look straight ahead, or at the person addressing you. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME, BASIC?”

“Yes, sir!” Shoes properly placed on the painted footprints and shoulders squared, the woman appeared confident when he approached her, but her reply came out as a squeak. Her façade was on the verge of cracking.

Ritch had flown into Denver on Thursday and caught the shuttle to Vail. Monday morning, he drove Heinrich to Colorado Springs. Parked at the Academy, the vehicle garnered stares and comments, as he unloaded his luggage. On the last Thursday in June, he was part of the cadre welcoming new cadets.

“You think you’re gonna make it, basic?” He knew he was being a dick, but that was by design. The goal was to break incoming cadets down and reshape them into Air Force officer material. At the moment, they were raw lumps of clay, waiting to be molded. And he was the potter.

“Yes, sir!” A small sob escaped her.

Ritch noticed her hands twitch; he was certain she wanted to wipe her watering eyes. “ARE YOU CRYING, BASIC? What the hell’s that? There’s no crying during BCT!” Of course, that was bullshit. He was channeling Tom Hanks in A League of Their Own. There would be plenty of basics who cried themselves to sleep over the coming six weeks.

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m scared, sir.”

“As you should be, basic. You’re now in the Air Force. You’re gonna have to work hard to live up to our expectations.” Ritch started to walk away but turned to look at the woman one more time. “I’m keeping my eyes on you, basic.”

“Peterson, you’re a dick.” Cadet First Class Miranda Kerr slapped his biceps. “Nice job scaring the bejeezus out of those basics.”

“Why, thank you, ma’am.” Ritch felt like Miranda had been avoiding him since their return from Cancun. Wanting to talk to her, he had made a point of finding her on the food line at lunch. “I have the afternoon off, what about you?”

“Same. I have a light schedule until we get to Jack’s Valley.” There was suspicion in her glance. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m the opposite. I’ll be doing classroom instruction starting Monday, but I’m supposed to go home the last three weeks.” Ritch followed the woman when they had loaded their trays and took a seat next to her. “Hey, I have Heinrich on campus. Wanna go for a ride this afternoon?” Miranda was amongst ski club members who knew the name of his Cayenne.

“What are you up to, Peterson?”

The raised eyebrow reminded him of César. He tried to look innocent. “Me? Nothing. I’m just craving a Slurpee. If you ride to 7-11 with me, I’ll treat you to one too.”

“That it?” She remained suspicious.

“Fine! I have ulterior motives.” Ritch lowered his voice so others at the table could not hear. “We need to talk. About Cancun.”

Miranda visibly stiffened. Her rigid head barely moved when she whispered her reply. “Nothing to talk about, cadet. I slipped. I was indiscrete, and I have to live with it. I’ll deal with the consequences, whenever you decide to share what I said.”

“Respectfully, ma’am, you’re full of shit.” Ritch was upset she would think so little of him.

“Careful, Peterson. Thin ice, you know? I am a superior officer.”

Now he was angry. “Yeah? Fuck rank. I’m talking to someone I thought was a friend.” He was not about to cause a scene in Mitchell Hall, but he was determined to have the conversation they had avoided for nearly three months. “I’m not giving you a choice, Miranda. We’re going into town, and I’m buying you a fucking Slurpee.”

“I still can’t believe you drive a Porsche. Aren’t you scared I’ll spill ice cream on the seats?” Instead of 7-11, they had stopped at Josh & John’s Ice Cream shop downtown.

Ritch had insisted they eat inside Heinrich to avoid eavesdroppers. “Leather and Weather Tech floor liners because of snow and salt in winter. Spill to your heart’s content.” Ritch took a lick of his Rocky Mountain Road cone and turned so his back was against the car’s side. “Speaking of spilling…” --

Miranda’s sigh sounded as if it carried all the world’s troubles. “Yeah… I fucked up. Can’t even blame it on alcohol. I can drink a lumberjack under the table.”

“Stop bragging.” Ritch licked his cone some more and decided ice cream was a better choice that a Slurpee. “Why have you been avoiding me?”

“Because I slipped, okay? I’ve crafted a public persona I’m proud of, and I cracked it in front of you.”

“That’s no explanation for avoiding me. This is me, Miranda. I’m the guy with two fathers and a brother with a husband. What did you think I would do? Blab so it would be part of Academy gossip ten minutes later?”

Something in Miranda’s cup interested her; she stared at the melting treat. “I don’t know, Peterson. I was so shocked when I came out to you, I didn’t know what to do. And then, after not talking about it in Mexico, I didn’t know how to approach you. Maybe I was a little scared you’d tell your posse.”

“You’re an idiot, you know? That’s extremely offensive. I would never out anyone. Trust me, that was repeatedly drilled into me while growing up. I won’t try to convince you to tell others, and I’ll always respect your privacy.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“You guess, nothing. I didn’t even tell my brother! And anyway, I’m not sure I understand your reluctance and fear. I mean, look at Boxworth, he’s so far out of the closet, the door locked behind him.”

She chuckled and appeared to relax. “You’re funny, Peterson. Boxworth has bigger balls than I do.”

It was Ritch’s turn to chuckle. “Actually, he has balls. You don’t.”

Both cadets laughed, and it was Ritch who allowed ice cream to drip off his cone. “Look, Kerr. You lead your life the way you want. If you ever need a friendly ear, use me. We need to talk about the ski club anyway.”

“Yeah… I guess…” She did not sound entirely convinced. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have avoided you. It’s just scary, you know?”

Ritch sighed. This was the first step in rebuilding their personal relationship. “Apology accepted.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin and tossed it in the back. “Okay, now that we burned a pass coming into town, how’d you like to go for a real ride?”

“Okay, let me start off by saying this class is personal to me. I have two fathers, and a brother married to another man.” Ritch noticed mostly surprised expressions and a smattering of frowns. “I have gay and straight friends. Men and Women. Blacks, Hispanics, and Asians. The circle of people surrounding me is as diverse as you could ever imagine. As diverse as the Air Force.”

Ritch was heading the seminar Claire Ross and Trevor Donovan had led the previous two years. Kai Palakiko, the Cadet Lieutenant Colonel and Squadron Commander in charge of the overall program, and Dr. Sloane, stood in back of the room, leaning against the wall. The pressure was on not to screw up.

“Although homophobia affects me most, I despise racism just as much. Or xenophobia. Or misogyny.” Ritch turned his back on the basics, strode to the board in the front, and wrote out the four words. “Okay, we’ll use these as starting points for our discussion.”

He sneaked a quick glance at the two men in back and was pleased to see them smile. “It will be a discussion, basics. Do you understand? Every single one of you will participate. I don’t care if you’re shy or stutter. You will be part of the conversation.”

He scanned the cadets until his eyes rested on one who frowned when Ritch talked about his family. The kid was as big as Simmons, probably a football player too. “You! Pick a subject and start talking.”

“Yes, sir. Racism. I’ve played football most of my life and I’ve always had African-American friends.”

Ritch knew he filled out his service uniform perfectly and must appear an imposing figure to the larger athlete. The guy sounded petrified. “I bet you’re proud of that, huh? Are they friends, or are they simply teammates? Tell me about a personal conversation you’ve had with any of them.”

“You did well, Peterson.” Palakiko walked beside Ritch, as they left the building.

Dr. Sloane bracketed him while crossing the Terrazzo. “Indeed. I’m sorry you won’t change your major, Ritch. You belong in the humanities and should drop engineering. You have a knack for discussing difficult issues.”

“And for issuing orders. I was ready to jump a couple of times.” C1C Palakiko punched Ritch’s shoulder. “I pity next year’s basics when you’re running the show.”

Although Ritch would handle a few more classroom sessions, he was assigned to the shooting range for most of BCT. He was assigned to supervise basics practice. Many of them had never held a gun, and he knew it would be challenging.

Ritch’s twentieth birthday was just another regular day at the Academy. He fielded early morning phone calls from his fathers and grandparents, received a multitude of texts and emails from friends, and had the cadre recognize his day during dinner. The best present that day was spending it terrorizing basics.

A few days after returning to Colorado from Key West, Ritch volunteered to forego his three weeks of leave. His request was partially approved. He would remain at the Academy for an additional week, helping out at Jack’s Valley, but was required to take the last two weeks off.

Unsure of what to do, he drove to Vail. He considered heading to Vegas, but since he was not of legal age, Sin City’s allure was not strong enough. Malibu was a possibility, but he would be alone in a city he did not know anyone in. The beach was not sufficiently enticing; the cold Pacific was no match for the tropical warmth of the Florida Keys.

After a day rattling around the large house, he called his aunt.

“Ritch! Great to hear from you, kiddo.” Melissa, as usual, sounded excited to talk to her nephew. “How are you?”

“Bored to death.” Ritch chuckled. “I’m in Vail, and I’m at a loss with what to do. I was thinking of going up for a visit. I’m willing to spend a couple of days helping at the rescue center. I’ll shovel shit if that’s what you need.”

“That would be fantastic! But I’m out on a dig. Want to get your hands dirty while looking for dinosaurs?”

“Hell, yeah!” Ritch recalled his aunt spent at least a month every summer at a ranch, excavating in search of prehistoric fossils. “When and where do I report for duty?”

Melissa’s rich laughter reverberated through the phone. “Slow your roll, cadet. We’re not the military. I’m about two hours east of Casper right now. When do you think you could get here?”

“Tomorrow?”

“That works. Put Lance Creek in the GPS and head there. Call me when you’re on the road, and I’ll tell you exactly where to go. I’ll talk to my boss.”

Her boss, Credence Magnus, turned out to be a third generation rancher whose land was part of the Lance Creek Formation. Covering parts of Wyoming and Montana, the Late Cretaceous rocks extended 300 feet deep, and were home to countless fossils. It was an area where 65 million years ago dinosaurs had lived and died. Their skeletons had fossilized and the elements and man were in the process of exposing them to air for the first time in eons.

The gruff, bearded man scanned Ritch from top to bottom, nodding when he noticed his boots. “At least you’re dressed properly.”

Melissa had suggested boots, jeans, a t-shirt, and a hat. “You’re going to sweat and get dirty. Don’t wear anything too nice.”

“Not sure how much Melissa explained, but you won’t make a lot of money working for a week. Usually our labor shares in the profits of whatever we find.” Mr. Magnus nodded in the Porsche’s direction. “Seeing what you drive, I’ll guess you don’t need the money for school.”

“I don’t, sir. The Air Force pays for my schooling, and I also get a small salary for being active duty.”

“Good. Stick with your aunt. You’ll be her assistant.” Mr. Magnus turned slightly as he walked away and offered Ritch his first smile. “We’ll make sure you don’t go home entirely empty handed.”

“Here, drink.” Calvin handed Ritch a water bottle. “Last thing we need’s you getting dehydrated and passing out. We don’t need the Air Force coming after us for injuring one of its cadets.”

“Thanks, Cal.” Ritch removed his ball cap, stripped off his dusty t-shirt, and used it to wipe his face and torso. Sweat and the dirt created rivulets of mud, coursing down his chest.

Calvin, Credence’s son, was a twentysomething musician who spent summers supervising bone digs on family land. His father handled the cattle. Tall, smooth, ripped, and with hair nearly reaching his waist, he looked more like a rocker than a rancher.

“Hey, a couple of us are going into town tonight. Wanna come have a beer or two with us?”

Ritch had spent the previous week with either a knife or a small paintbrush in hand. Cleaning away dirt, he had been surprised when Melissa and Cal had correctly identified a few of the bones he pointed out. To him, most of them looked like plain rocks.

“Dude, thanks, but I can’t. Not legal yet. I just turned twenty.”

“Who cares? The way you carry yourself, you look old enough.”

“I still can’t, Cal. The Academy prohibits drinking if we’re underage.”

“Fine. Come with anyway. You can drink water.” The man turned on his smile. “I want a ride in your wheels, dude. Never been in a Porsche.”

“That was real nice of your father.” In lieu of cash wages, Mr. Magnus had given Ritch one of the fossilized remains the cadet had helped recover. “I told him I was doing this for the experience, not the money.”

“Sure, but you worked your ass off.” Cal had a tendency to flip his hair around, and it always made Ritch smile. He assumed it was something he did while facing a crowd, guitar in hand.

“Too bad there weren’t enough bones left of that critter to reconstruct the whole thing.”

Spring rains often revealed fossils when they washed away topsoil from hills. Diggers then raced to uncover anything else in the vicinity. Exposure, particularly during Wyoming’s harsh winters, could turn bones that had survived millions of years into dust.

“I need a pee break.” Ritch stood and walked towards the sign at the end of the bar. He carried the Coke he had ordered in a hand, while the flask Cal had slipped him below the table, was in his jeans’ pocket. The other two men with them had not noticed. When Ritch smelled the contents, he figured it was bourbon or rye, he splashed his soda with the booze.

Back at the table, he returned the flask to its owner. “You know, my aunt gave me a T-Rex tooth as a present, and I re-gifted it to my parents.” The comment elicited chuckles. “I think I’d like to do the same with this one. They fit in well with the décor at the Vail house. When do you think I’ll get it back?”

“A couple of months. We have your address at the Academy. We’ll ship it to you when it’s ready.” The claw segment would go to a lab to have the surrounding rock removed, and the bone fossil stabilized.

Cal had gravitated towards Ritch during the week they had worked together. Although a handful of years older than the cadet, the two were at least a decade or two younger than the rest of the crew. While the musician had asked countless questions about the Academy, Ritch had peppered the man with inquiries about the dinosaur hunting business.

“Cattle ranching ain’t glamorous, Ritch,” the man said during one of their conversations. “It isn’t riding horses during roundup or sitting around a campfire at night. Come fall, if the price of cattle isn’t high enough, Dad could face a shortage when repaying the loans he took out in spring.”

“You haven’t found any whole skeletons this year. Will you guys still make money from the digs?”

“Hell, yeah. We found enough to make a little. Of course, a whole T-Rex would bring in a few million dollars, but those don’t come around often, and it can sometimes take years to find the right buyer. In the meantime, a few claws, teeth, or a skull, can make us a tidy amount.” The bone Ritch was given could fetch up to a thousand dollars.

Ritch left Wyoming with a new appreciation for those who put meat on American tables and their hard work. He would treasure the adventure and working side by side with his aunt. “I’m not sure what we’re doing for Christmas, but if we end up in Vail, you should drive down again.”

After kissing Melissa goodbye and promising to continue emailing on a regular basis, he gave Cal a bro hug. “Dude, you call me if your band plays anywhere near Colorado Springs. If I can get away, I’ll come see you, and I’ll bring a few cadets with me.”

Ritch returned to Vail to spend the remainder of his break. He called Wendy, and after hooking up one night, offered to take care of her son the following day. When he rented a plane at Eagle County Regional Airport, and took Clay up for a flight, Ritch made a friend for life.

Returning to Colorado Springs, he had a message waiting from Cadet First Class Kai Palakiko. Ritch wondered if something had gone wrong with any of the basics taking his seminar, or one of those he had supervised out on the shooting range.

“Welcome back, cadet.” Palakiko sounded too damn happy. “I trust you enjoyed your leave?”

“I did, sir. I spent a week digging for fossils with my aunt.”

Palakiko’s high-pitched laughter was a surprise. “I want to hear about it later. In the meantime, let’s talk about the coming year. What I’m about to share’s confidential. It’ll be made public soon enough. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Ritch kept trying to figure out what the man was up to.

“Let’s start by dropping the sir. At least while we’re in private.” Palakiko smiled a bit wider. “After all, you’ll be part of the Dirty Dozen from now on.”

Ritch was surprised Palakiko was letting him know in advance of the upper class move. “It’ll be an honor, sir. Oops, sorry.”

At the beginning of their third year at the Academy, cadets were shuffled amongst squadrons and were assigned new roommates. Ritch had yet to find out who he would live with the next two years.

“We’ll be working together a lot, Peterson. I’ll be training you to take over for me when I graduate.”

“You mean during BCT?”

“Yep. Unless you fuck up, you’ll be in my boots next summer. And hopefully next fall as well.”

“Really? Thank you. I’m not sure I know what to say.”

“No need to say anything. I watched you in action this year, and I know you can handle it. Plus, Dr. Sloane really wants you during BCT.”

“I’ll have to thank him.”

“Just wait ’til it’s official, okay?” Palakiko paused, while Ritch nodded. “When you get your orders, you’ll also get a surprise. Congratulations on your upcoming promotion, Master Sergeant.”

“WHAT?” Ritch nearly jumped out of his chair. He had been promoted at the beginning of summer and was not expecting a further rise in ranks this early.

“You’ve done well, cadet. From what I heard, your performance at BCT sealed the deal. I also heard people were impressed with how you handled someone stealing drugs from your parents’ place and how you put a stop to boxing club hazing.”

“All I did was be honest each time.” Ritch had not realized how far knowledge of his actions had spread.

“We all break rules, Peterson. I’ve heard your family owns a vineyard, so I’m sure you’ve been drinking while away from the Academy. I may have had a cocktail or two while underage too.” Palakiko chuckled. “But when it comes down to it, you stuck to your guns and upheld your oath.”

“I… I don’t know what to say.”

“Nothing yet, remember? Now, you want to know who your new roommate is?”

“Bro! I hit the roommate jackpot!” Joel’s hug surprised Ritch. Fellow Cadet Second Class, Joel Boxworth was his new roommate, and he apparently was really happy about it.

“Wait until you smell my farts and hear my snoring. Let’s see what you think about sharing quarters with me then.”

“Who the fuck cares about that, Peterson? You’re a gay man’s ideal roomie.” Joel was one of a handful of out cadets at the Academy.

Ritch chuckled. “Just remember I’m the straight one in my family. No hanky panky.”

“Hanky panky?” Joel echoed the chuckle. “Don’t flatter yourself, Peterson. You’re not my type. I like them brawny and blond. Or older and darker. And preferably dumb and malleable. You’re too bossy for my taste.”

“Watch it, cadet. You’re addressing a superior.”

Joel stood at attention and saluted. “My apologies, Master Sergeant, sir.”

Ritch leaned back and his chair and though back to spring break. “How the hell does the Mexican bartender fit in?”

“I’m also a size queen, and Jose had the biggest dick I’ve ever taken. That may have helped with the attraction, sir.”

“Fuck you, Boxworth. TMI.” They both knew, in private, they were simply friends. ”What makes me such a great roommate, anyway?”

Joel had yet to make his bed and sat on the naked mattress. “You kidding me? Dude, you grew up surrounded by gay men. You’re probably the least homophobic person in the entire Academy.”

Ritch wave a dismissive hand. “I’m sure there’s others.”

“Of course there are probably some. But there are also haters. And they only keep their mouths shut because of Air Force regulations.” Joel’s smile disappeared. “Even here, someone like me treads carefully. You never know when an asshole will decide it’d be fun to beat up a fag.”

“Come on, Boxworth. It’s not like you couldn’t defend yourself. Bro, you’re ripped.”

“Not much I could do if I was jumped by a couple of people.” The smile returned to Joel’s face. “And anyway, being your roommate will probably give me a chance to hang with your brother and his husband at some point. Those two are smokin’ and the nicest guys I ever met.”

“Ugh! You just called CJ and Ozzie hot?”

“They are! Even though they made it clear they haven’t fooled around with anyone else since they got married, they’re still eye candy.”

“No they aren’t. They’re just regular guys.” An evil grin crossed Ritch’s face. “Regular guys who like dick.”

“And that’s just it. They’re regular guys. They’re out, they live their lives the way they want to, and they don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks. I hope I’m the same when I’m their age.” The grin affixed to Joel’s face since they began their conversation disappeared. “But I sure as hell hope I never go through what they went through in Mexico.”

Because Ritch and CJ had different last names, very few people knew they were brothers. Once the events surrounding CJ’s departure from Mexico became widely reported, those who had met him contacted Ritch. “I know, right? But if anyone can bounce back from that shit, it’s those two. We fucking spent more time in Key West talking about the future than anything else.”

“The place you guys stayed at looks awesome. I went online and looked it up after the picture your brother posted.” Joel’s smirk returned. “Nice picture, but you should have taken some of other guests sunning themselves.”

“Asshole!” Having Joel as a roommate would be fun. The picture Ritch had taken of CJ and Owen in the pool, with Liebe floating between them, had been shared online by them, when back in D.C. He had thanked @CypressHouse for providing an escape to recover and credited @RPFlyboy with the photography.

The conversation with Joel stuck with Ritch. Maybe his view of the gay community and the potential danger its members faced, was colored by the type of men surrounding him while growing up. His fathers, his brother, his brother-in-law, and most of their friends did not exhibit traits or mannerisms stereotypical of gays. He knew it was bullshit that all gay men were effeminate. His gays were for the most part athletic, they liked sports, and did not prance around the way haters suggested.

And he was certain there was no gay agenda to take over the country. He laughed remembering a cartoon he had seen a long time ago describing such an agenda as encouraging everyone to have brunch on Sundays. What a crock of shit. However, while experience helped shape his attitude, he realized it was not the same for everyone.

He promised himself he would watch Joel’s back for the next two years and recommitted himself to speaking out and taking action if he ever noticed overt homophobia at the Academy and in time within the Air Force.