When I was sixteen I saw something amazing. Out by Paxton Barracks one day where my friends and I used to mess around, I was shooting at these squirrels when I heard footsteps coming. I got out of sight and ducked behind a bush. Then here comes this party of Marines, whooping it up and yelling, and they got this guy with his hands tied behind his back. I guess they had had some beers. They were leading the man captive, a tall bearded guy in jeans and a tee-shirt, and he was blindfolded. On the other side of the fence on the base grounds a guy was working out, doing push-ups. Then one of the Marines calls over to him "Chet, get over here, this construction worker's gettin' a whippin'! " This guy Chet jumps up and is through this spot under the fence in no time to join the party. They were talking the man into the woods, so I followed them.
I found out later that there was a kind of boot camp tradition for recruits to pick a fight with a local, then take him out in the woods and "teach him a lesson." The type of "lesson" they were talking about would be an old-fashioned kind--applied to the seat of his pants! It was a way they let off steam. I've heard a bunch of stories like this: soldiers start feeling their oats, and a tough guy from town gets his tail whipped. Apparently it has happened to several men who used to live around here, and it looked like it was about to happen now.
The vigilante party was in a clearing; the prisoner was on his knees, over the end of a log, his wrists bound. The guy looked confused like he was in shock or something, but there was no getting out of it now, he was in for a spanking! They were just taking off the gag and blindfold, and I couldn't believe my eyes at what happened next; grabbing him around front to open his belt, they pulled down the man's pants and boxers, and got a big leather punishment strap with a long wooden handle!
A tall black guy seemed to be the platoon leader, he was going to paddle first. He took off his shirt and grabbed the strap. "Time for fo' a lickin'!" he yelled, swinging back.
The construction worker's ass was round and hairy.
WHHAAACK!
The clearing rang like a shot with the impact of the thick, heavy strap.
"AAOWW!!" yelled the prisoner. "God_d_a_m_n_ --!!"
"Trip to the Woodshed," said the paddler.
WHHAAACK!!
"YEEEOOWWW!!" yelled the man. His butt was embossed with two bright pink swaths with white circles, where the holes in the wide leather thong had spanked him.
"Take yo' punishment," said the Marine. WHHHHAACKK!!
"AAAGGHHH!!" the construction worker roared. The Marines standing around were watching with glee, they had this loud mouth right where they wanted him. Bet he didn't feel like such a big shot now!
"Don't pick no fights with United States Marines!" yelled the platoon leader, WHHAAACK!! WHHAAACK!! WHHAAACK!! And he whipped the dude with such zeal, he almost looked crazed.
The party all laughed, and from the man's look of astonishment, it semed he couldn't believe this was happening, all gasping with sweat popping out on his head and neck.
Pretty soon the platoon leader handed off his weapon to a buddy, who positioned himself with a broad stance and began administering sturdy licks with a wide, vigorous swing. He was a short little guy with a very developed upper body and a tattoo on his right shoulder.
"Spank his butt, Doyle!" they encouraged.
_f_u_c_k_! I jumped at the whistling crack as the mighty lickin' strap was applied. Whiissssssss-Smmackk!! Whiissssssss-Smmackk!! Bellowing like an angry steer, the prisoner bucked as he got his punishment; he bawled and cursed, slobber coming out of his mouth as his big bare butt got whupped.
Most of the swat party had their shirts off now, rubbing their hands as they witnessed the whipping. Everybody wanted a turn! Chet was next, a tall broad chested recruit with a blond buzz cut; he lit into the fanny but good. Soon all seven had a turn with the whipping strap, ten licks each; then one guy pulled something out of a gunny sack, and everybody laughed. My eyes got wide when I saw they had a paddle.
"Time to go to the principal's office!" he said.
They were all for that with hearty guffaws. Next thing the man hugging that log knew, the guys were lined up to deliver a schoolhouse lesson! It was a big dark paddle said "Board of Education," with fifteen holes. The jarhead named Pitzer was tapping it across the construction worker's bottom. "Paddle the Townie!" he chuckled. But instead of a hard swat, what came next was a turn of events that was to ruin the recruits' entire month.
It seems their platoon leader forgot that the DI, Sergeant Norton, was excercising C Company this afternoon, and would have to take them right through these woods on their way to the Grunt Mud Run. So intent had they been on their sport, that they were practically surrounded by the excercising unit--and one very astonished drill instructor--before they realized what was happening.
"What the _f_u_c_k_ is going on here!??" the DI exclaimed angrily, as forty dressed out and marines gathered around panting.
"---Aah..." platoon leader Benson said stupidly, like a deer in the headlights.
"Who is that? What the HELL do you think you're doing!??"
"Sarge, --Sir! We were just settling a ... There was a--" Came a sorry attempt from Pitzer.
Then the guy named Chet spoke up. "We were aah--teaching him some manners, Sir...!"
"Release that man instantly!" Norton ordered. He looked around to assess the scene for a moment, as the seven members of the spank party fidgeted nervously. Blinking with tears and snot, the construction worker managed to get his britches up before turning around. His face was all red and puffy.
The clearing was silent for a moment.
"So," began the sergeant, "you were teaching this man a lesson, is that right?"
"Yes Sir," admitted a couple of the men.
"Show him that Marines are tough?"
"That's right. Yes Sir," they replied.
"That a paddle?" Sergeant Norton said catching sight of the board. "A few swats to build his character, is that it?"
"And the Strap, Sir!" several of the party replied.
My uncle was participating in the Mud Run when Norton caught those guys, and the rest of the story is from what I heard from him.
A week later a sorry and glum column of marines was being marched between MP's across the exercise grounds. Like they sometimes do in the military, the actions of the one _f_u_c_k_up had earned a punishment for the whole unit--all forty-five men. They had completed a hard week of ditch-digging, rock-clearing, and extra PT, and today they started a month of confinement in the Brig.
But before incarceration, it was decided the company would serve a detention in the Discipline Hut. It was well known what was going to happen, and the facility was crowded with spectators when the platoons were ushered into the converted latrine. Spirits were low as they were forced to strip before the punishment assembly. My uncle assures me the buzzcut recruits were pink with shame as they folded and stacked their underpants by the urinals. Now the dudes had to queue up at the trap-doors. Beside each of the two "Dishonor Traps" stood an MP with a paddle. The men of F Company were about to experience a Marine Corps style spanking!
Everyone knew how this worked. The subject bends over on the trap-door. The theory of the punishment was to address both mind and body, so the soldier is spanked in front of an audience for embarrassment. And every time he gets a swat, he thinks about the pit!
They were about to begin. In group situations, my uncle said, the MPs would always select the biggest, most physically imposing guy in the company to punish first. That way, when they make an impression on HIS hind end, it makes a big impression on the unit.
Bad luck for Buglione. Vince Buglione was the tallest recruit in the class, biggest across the shoulders, and those weren't the only departments he was big in. The MPs had grins from ear to ear as his name was called, and so did the Commander--he enjoyed seeing recruits of his size get paddled!
"Buglione, Vincent!" barked the Sergeant. Buglione stepped forward and stood on the trap door, in his birthday suit. Then they announced the punishment: Twenty-five swats!
The big Italian felt himself get big and stiff as he bent over. Reaching down, he spread his feet shoulder width apart and grabbed his ankles, as the MP gave his bare butt loving little taps, to play with him.
BAMM!
Buglione sucked in his breath at the sting of a swift, hard swat. The second MP chuckled and prepared to follow suit. Experienced in punishment administration, he knew how to spank, and he loved it when he got to put a big guy on the hot seat.
BAMM!
The Board of Education was now in session!
BAMM!! BAMM!!
The big paddles connected with his butt, and every time he got a swat, all the spectators laughed! BAMM!! BAMM!! BAMM!! He was on the hot seat now, being punished in front of all his peers, as the swats put him in a red-hot world of shame and regret!
BAMM!! BAMM!! BAMM!!
Ten more to go, and the MPs smiled grimly, redoubling their efforts. They soon had Buglione bawling, his butt a hairy blotch of scarlet and white-hot paddle marks. As he received the last of his licks in the bending posture, Vince's eyes widened in terror, for the second MP was taking hold of the fateful trap lever!
A funny feeling in his belly, Buglione felt the boards drop. He started in alarm as he fell between, and reached to protect his testicles from the heavy, naked plummet into Dishonor.
There was a deep, distant plop! as the recruit met his fate and the trap doors retracted to their upright position.
"Benson, DeShawn!" the sergeant barked. "Jackson, Doyle S.! Report for punishment!"
It was the big black dude's turn--the platoon leader, his buddy Doyle's too. The men stepped up in their birthday suits, covering their genitals, and got sentenced to twenty-five swats with the paddle!
DeShawn Benson bent over to get his butt blistered.
Underneath him, Vincent Buglione was contemplating his lesson in a bath of syrup, shave cream, oatmeal and motor oil.
In just a minute or two, he'd have a buddy to join him!