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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Broken - 4. On My Honor
Scouting is one of those activities that boys can lose themselves to no ill effects. Such was that spring. The Wolverines took on two major service projects. We adopted a homeless shelter and gathered donated food for a food bank that served needy people. We worked hard to push our rival patrol the Badgers- who responded of course by rising to the occasion out of pride, matching our projects, and beginning a long-running prank war.
The first shot across our bow was a dead possum made to look like a Wolverine hanging by its tail from our work hut behind the church gym. Not to be outdone of course, we found a big, fat dead rat and left him with a “suicide note” saying he that just couldn't live with himself for being a Badger.
Doug was brilliant in people smarts in the way that he so deftly handled people. Under his able leadership, the Wolverines became a very tight-knit group and about as much fun to be around as a barrel of monkeys. I learned a great deal from him, and my admiration for him grew. His calm, friendly and good-natured demeanor could disarm an atom bomb. It was astonishing to see how well a bunch of 11 to 14-year-olds could get along together as a team. Our arguments were never over anything more serious than who was a bigger badass: Superman or Apocalypse?
Nick became a special project of mine. The little guy was growing on me rapidly. It wasn't too long before Nick joined Scotty as my shadow, much to everyone's amusement. His Dad had died some years before in an accident offshore. Apparently, his Mom was rather well-off and had Nick in a special school that he hated. There was nothing really wrong with him except that he was small, painfully shy and fairly clumsy. When Nick got into the friendly, supportive environment of our patrol, he thrived. It was impossible to fail to notice the improvements he made from week to week. Scotty even taught him to ride a bike.
I noticed something different about Scotty as well. He was growing up finally, and it suited him. He was finally gaining height and confidence. His shyness was melting away. I was particularly glad to see that Scotty was taking a role with Nick, much like I had with Scotty when we were younger. Scotty was fiercely protective of Nick and included him in everything that we did, even if some of the older kids turned their nose up at him. I mentioned this to Scotty and he blushed. He put his arm around my shoulder and mumbled something about picking up numerous bad habits from me. I then picked him up in a bear hug and said quietly in his ear- “You are growing up, pal.”
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Our first serious camping trip of the spring was a four-day affair in March during spring break. Our troop took all of our gear for a working camp out to a state park that had been closed for years. We would basic cleanup to prepare the park to reopen that summer.
Confederate Ford was a civil war site just off the Bayou Pierre near Port Gibson in the hill country of Jefferson County. It was originally part of the Natchez Trace land grant but had been handed over to the state since it was not contiguous with the trace property proper. The state let it stand idle for several years until it was finally funded.
We arrived on Saturday morning and set two camps: the Badger Patrol on the North side of the park and the Wolverines on the South. A historian from Natchez came up and told us about the park's history. During the siege of Vicksburg, the Confederacy had been quite desperate to relieve the garrison and had tried everything. The Confederate Ford is where a bunch of cavalrymen had tried to run the Union gauntlet and had been cut to pieces. It sucks to live in a state where all the monuments are to lost battles. It's really quite depressing.
After the tale of the doomed cavalry troopers from Utica, we ate some lunch, drank some bug juice and got to work on our assigned areas.
The work wasn't all that hard; there was just a lot of it. Any wooded area that has been left alone for a few seasons can accumulate a lot of debris. We went about removing downed limbs and trash and made a good dent in the job by sundown.
March in Mississippi can be kind or cruel. The crisp, clear spring day gave way to a deceptively cold spring night. After playing around with a telescope, burning a big bonfire and eating supper - the Wolverines fooled around until about 11:00 when it was got too uncomfortable to stay outside. We split up into groups of four and retired to the tents.
Scotty, Nick and Brian Edwards shared the tent that I was in. Brian had a radio so we listened to a rock station from New Orleans, told fart jokes and laughed until after midnight. It was so cold that night on damp ground; we all ended up in one big shivering lump of sleeping bags in the middle of the tent.
When I woke up the next morning, Scotty was snuggled in behind me with one arm over my shoulder and Nick was wedged between Brian and me with his head on my pillow.
I had no desire to leave the warmth of the spot. I just lay there for a while and soaked it up. My best friend was curled up behind be with his arm over my shoulder. Nick's sweet face was right before me. Brian was curled up in a ball like a red-headed squirrel. It occurred to me just how cool it was.
I reveled in the feeling of closeness and warmth with my friends. There was something about it that felt so good and right. Often during the many sleepovers at our houses, Scotty had slept with me just like this. He was like that with me. On long road trips, he would nod off and his head would find my shoulder. Our parents though it was so cute and would snap pictures of us napping on the back seat. When I was younger, I had thought what a nuisance, but eventually, it occurred to me that it was because he was just so comfortable with me and I with him.
Nick stirred, and his long eyelashes fluttered to reveal his warm, sparkling brown eyes. He saw me looking at him. I put my finger over my mouth so he would stay quite, so we wouldn't disturb the others. He rolled over and got nose to nose and forehead to forehead with me, smiling, and put his arm around my neck. I put my right arm around him with my hand on the back of his head in a gentle hug. He whispered, “I love you, Jimmy.” Then he closed his eyes and went back to a perfectly blissful sleep.
Nick pierced my heart that morning with his innocence and sweetness. I knew at that moment that none of his problems, weaknesses or flaws mattered to me in the least. I don't pretend to know what power had sent Nick to me, but it was something special to have him there.
Lying perfectly still, I absorbed as much of that perfect moment as was possible until Rainer started bellowing for us to get up and eat breakfast.
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The day had dawned bright but chill as we went back to work on our appointed tasks. We continued to gather limbs and set about building another bonfire for that night. It was not long before the frost had burned off and warmed things up to a comfortable 60 degrees or so.
We had decided that the best way to get things done was to break up into four groups of four so that we could divide our big kids and little kids evenly. As much heart as a Scotty or Nick might have, pulling an 80-pound timber to the woodpile was simply beyond them. It was more fun this way, and it took teamwork and a few scouting tricks that we could put to use with ropes and knots. As noon and lunch approached, Doug told me that we were well ahead of schedule. We took an hour's break and ate some hot dogs.
We went back to work after lunch. About 2:00 one of the state rangers showed up with a bush hog and started mowing the area that we had cleared. By 3:00 we had completed our work on the South side of the park and were given the rest of the day to just play around. Doug produced a Frisbee, and we ended up playing Frisbee football on the fresh cut grass until dark.
Supper that night kicked ass. We barbecued chicken, cooked corn on the cob, potatoes and baked beans. After dinner, we lit the pile of debris that we had collected all day into a roaring bonfire. Mark and Clay Hudson got out their guitars and began to play.
Doug pulled me aside and told me that we were going to go up to the Badger's territory and give them a hand the next day. We both had a chuckle over that. The Badger's were going to love having the “help” of our patrol. About 10:00 that night, a drizzle chased us into the tents.
It wasn't quite as cold as the first night. The rain wasn't bad, but it didn't bode well for the next day. We all changed into sweats and goofed off for a while, listening to tunes and yucking it up. The activity of the day had us all pretty much worn out and we crashed hard.
Nick and Brian went down for the count. Scotty and I faced each other, talking quietly for a little while with our arms around each other's shoulders.
Sometime during the night, our bodies came into direct contact. I awoke to find myself really turned on in the arms of my best friend. He felt warm and soft yet firm. His nose was nestled in on my neck and his soft rhythmic breathing made my skin tingle. Gently and slowly, Scotty's body rubbed against me in some unknowable dream. Wow. It felt so good. He was nibbling on my neck and breathing erratically.
He woke up with a start and then snickered. “Sorry, Jimmy, I was dreaming.”
I whispered, “Do you need a towel or something?”
“Almost.”
“Yeah. Come on over and get in my sleeping bag.”
Scotty did, and we spent the rest of the night in each other's arms tingling, touching, caressing and... kissing?
The next morning I awoke with Scotty in my arms and Nick draped over my back, I had never felt quite like this way before. What did it mean? What was this feeling in my heart? The warmth, comfort and companionship of yesterday morning were there, but there was something more. Something that made my heart beat faster.
Scotty's sleeping face was illuminated by the dawn's pink and purple light. Peaceful, angelic, he glowed in the morning light. It was as if I had seen my old friend for very the first time. I knew without reservation that I loved the boy in my arms. It seemed only natural, like he had belonged there all along.
Scotty's eyes opened. Smiling brightly, we shared a hug. With my left hand, I stroked his hair.
I whispered, “Hungry?”
He nodded vigorously.
I gently disengaged myself from the sleeping jumble of Scotty, Nick and Brian with a smile. I said softly, “Well, let's find some breakfast.”
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The morning was warm and foggy. Dampness was in the air.
Scotty and I shared our breakfast with the early risers. Today it was individually boxed cereal and apple juice.
After eating, we sat with Doug Edwards and the Hudson cousins and quietly talked about the day's chores. Doug anticipated that with our help, the Badgers would have their area finished before lunch and then our Scoutmaster would have us run a map and compass orienteering exercise that afternoon.
By seven, everyone had either eaten or was close to finishing up. Our patrol moved out towards the Badger's camp on the North side of the park a little past the hour.
It took us about fifteen minutes to get there. We quickly understood why they were behind. Apparently, some bad weather had really made a mess of that part of the park, and there was still a lot of work to do. With the combined efforts of our two patrols, we went into action and finished the North side of the park before lunch.
After lunch, we took a break while Mr., Rainer and the senior patrol leaders went and laid out the orienteering course. The fog had burned off and the day was turning out pretty nice.
By one o'clock, the course was ready.
Mr. Rainer gave us all maps of the park area marked with waypoints and bearings. We were to use the map and a compass to make it through the course. Our job was to successfully navigate the course and show up at the designated endpoint. By the map, it looked to be about 3 miles max, no sweat.
We went in groups of four at intervals of twenty minutes. I stayed with my three tent mates. As luck would have it, we ended up going next to the last, and it was about three before we started.
Things were going fine until... we could not find the 7th waypoint. We went back to number six and tried it again. Something was just not right. We looked and looked and never could find the 7th waypoint.
It started getting dark a little after five. The kids started getting nervous. It was obvious that we were lost, but I tried to put the best face on it. We stopped for a little rest and took stock of our situation.
We had a pack, two flashlights, a canteen and some trail mix. I had everyone take a drink and eat a little trail mix. We took a good look at the map before it got too dark to try to figure out where we were.
I figured that our best bet was to make our way West towards the highway that we came in on. It didn't look that far. With any luck, we would probably come across some landmarks that may help us get our bearings.
We started out in that direction but were funneled towards the Northwest by heavy brush and bog. We stopped again, and I had to admit that I had no idea where we were. Sticking to the plan, we were tired, muddy and scratched by thorns. I could tell that Nick was shot. Scotty looked a little worried, but Brian was a trooper. He took it in stride.
It was slow-going. I had to take Nick piggyback. He was exhausted. By 8:00, we had found the road that we were looking for. We were back in our camp by nine.
Everybody was relieved when we came in. They had been looking for us. It wasn't difficult to figure out what was wrong when we compared our map to the others. The distances and bearings on waypoints 6, 7 and 9 were transposed. OOPS. No wonder we got turned around.
I'd almost forgotten Nick was on my back. He was sound asleep and latched on like a tick. Totally exhausted by our misadventure, the four of us went to our tent and crashed. No radio. No fart jokes. I didn't even try to disengage Nick's death grip. I lay down on my stomach with Nick still latched on to my back, and was dead to the world.
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The next morning, an angry Mr. Rainer awakened us. I figured he was pissed about us getting lost.
Nick was still attached, so I gently got out of his grasp. Mr. Rainer told me get outside now.
With an angry look on his face, he growled, “What do you think you're doing with Turner?”
I calmly explained, “Last night when we got lost, Nick gave out, and I had to carry him. When we got back, he was sound asleep and latched on. We were all exhausted and went to sleep where we fell.”
He looked at me suspiciously, then he looked at Scotty and Nick, who were emerging from the tent. He grabbed me by the hair and pulled me out of earshot from the others, “I don't like that shit. I don't like it worth a damn. I'm going to be watching you. If I see anything like that again, you are out of here. Do you understand?”
I wasn't sure exactly what he was pissed about, so I nervously gave a generic apology. I figured that he was pissed that I had blown the orientation course and didn't know why. “I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again.”
He growled, “You just make sure it doesn't or there will be hell to pay.” He turned abruptly and stormed off.
I had never seen him act that way.
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After the confusing ass chewing from Rainer, I was shaken up. I made sure that everything that I did or Scotty, Nick or Brian did until we got home was high and tight.
I talked to Doug about it later that day. He told me not to sweat it. He would talk to Rainer and cool things off with the old man.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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