Convinced that the jawans would not be punished while I was standing there and believing that the soldiers were almost done, I turned around disconsolately and began to trudge away from the parade ground.
On one edge of the parade ground was a wall with a lattice work of tiny little diamond shaped windows. The wall effectively blocked anyone from the street seeing what was going on on the parade ground. I was now trudging along on one side of the wall. Suddenly, I heard a barked command. I peered through one of the little diamond shaped windows. Luckily the chink was so small that the NCOs didn't seem to notice me perving out on them, and they lapsed back into their normal delightful sadism while I stood at my vantage point, knees shivering with excitement, precum dripping with slimy abandon.
The two squads were formed up. The command was given. And they began marching. They were not marching with their rifles. In distinction to American soldiers, Indian soldiers swing their hands high in the air when they march, and they raise their legs high in the air as well (not as high as the World War II Germans or Soviet soldiers do) but still they are high in the air. For some reason, I find it quite a turn on this flash of black and brown soft babyish boy arms swinging back and forth. When the jawans are wearing shorts, I also get a turn on from the yummy bare legs rising and falling. But these jawans were wearing long pants, as I have said before. After they had marched a certain distance, they were halted. The NCOs explained to them what they had been doing wrong, and they were told to fall out and run to back to where they had started and reform. The playful NCO rushed back with them, and as they attempted to reform, he swung out with his swagger stick, hitting hapless recruits at random. The blows didn't seem very hard, more flirting than punishment. But boys scattered like scared birds to avoid the stinging blows and accompanying abuse.
Eventually, the two squads reformed, and the marching order was given again. As the soldiers marched, they called out the cadence, "Bahai hath; dahai hath; bahai hath" (left; right; left. "Hath" means hand and "bahai" means "left"). The flirtatious playful NCO halted his squad and began screaming abuse at them. Evidently, he didn't approve of their performance. He made them squat on their haunches and hop like bunnies for a good distance. Clouds of dust in the air, boys collapsing haplessly. The NCO kicking recruits at random to encourage them. Flailing around wildly with his swagger stick, making contact with cute brown and black flesh at random. The other NCO not to be outdone and far more harsh and convincing in his punishments halted his squad. He began screaming abuse at the soldiers in the first and second rows. (Again, I am convinced that the hapless jawans in the first and second row were punished far more than the others.) He yelled out a command, and the first row of jawans bowed their heads. He pushed his way behind them and roughly tugged the first boy's collar down, so his bare neck was exposed; raised his hand high; and fiercely smacked the boy's neck. Since I could hear the crack from where I was standing, it must have been deafening for the jawans in the same row, anticipating their punishment, and scary for the jawans standing in the second row who had a bird's eye view of their friends' punishment and knew that they would be next. Then on to the next jawan. SMACK. And the next jawan. SMACK. Next row, tug down the collar. (I fantasized how it must feel, bending your head, sweat dripping down your face from the drill. Butterflies in your stomach. That rough tug on your collar, perhaps a slight ripping sound, as the worn khaki gives way. You will pay for your NCO's roughness at his next dress inspection. Then, the anticipation as the NCO breathes behind you, and the crack followed almost immediately by the stinging pain. As he pushes roughly to the next man, he brushes carelessly against you, and you are sickeningly aware of his aroused erection).
I had never seen jawans hit on the back of their necks before. What made the scene of the jawans bowing particularly erotic to me was that it triggered a scene back in the States where I had watched a squad of Marine ROTC recruits undergoing a dress inspection. At the inspecting officer's command, the marine would bow and offer his cap to the inspecting officer. The officer would minutely inspect the cap for lint while the recruit stood, head bowed, with his _s_e_x_y little shaved head. Particularly yummy were the little dinge recruits, soft yummy chocolate necks and dark bristles. Military faggotry for ever.