This story I heard from a friend. I do not know if it is true but my friend swears by it.
It was a year before high school and my family does what it always does during the summer, and that is they go to Mobile, Alabama. This was alright for this California City kid, because summers at my uncles farm were full of adventures. My parents would leave me in the care of my uncles capable hands for lessons on growing up.
My uncle's house was a large plantation house, made of brick, three stories high, with columns that seem to be right out of a Civil War movie. Behind the house were three large barns and then the garage.
In the garage, there were two identical show trucks. They were late model pickup trucks done in chrome and magnificent neon blue detail. My Uncle never drove them; they were only for car shows.
In back of the garage the road stretched on to my uncles childrens families. They lived on the farm with more modest dwellings, which meant that I had more then twelve cousins around my own age to get into mischief. The road stretched on to the fields and in the very back of the farm my uncle had is catfish ponds. A swamp stretched out along the side of the farm where my cousins and I spent most of our time. We camped out there for most of the summer, swatting mosquitoes and swapping tall tales. We had one person pup tents that encircled the campfire on one of the few dry hills in the swamp.
It was on one of these occasions that began my trouble. Thad, (short of Thaddeus) was one of my older cousins; I think he was about 16 at the time. He is the most important person to me besides my father. If there was one kid that had it all it was Thad. I would often ask God why did he give all of the best qualities to Thad and be so sparing to me. Thad had short cropped blond hair, dark piercing blue eyes, a gentle smile, and bulging muscles all over including places where I did not know muscles could be. Plus, he had a personality matching the best, gentle, southern, gentleman, Greek god, that one can imagine, and I had a wonderful imagination when it came to Thad. Even my frequent pinches of envy did not slow down my hero worship.
The time was getting late, but time did not seem to have a meaning in the swamp. The fire was crackling and sparking, and had no intention of diminishing until the wee hours of the morning. The eerie red glow light up Thads well sculpted chest that made me loose all track of time.
Thad was on his favorite topic, the blue show trucks of my uncles. He had worked with my uncle on them. He was talking about carburetors and h power. I had my mind firmly planted on another subject. I was thanking God for the fact that Alabama boys rarely wear shirts in the summer. Thad continued to bemoan the fact that his Grandfather never let him drive the trucks. (I in fact had never seen my uncle allow anyone to drive them). It took a while, but he worked himself up to this announcement, an announcement I think he had in his mind for a long time.
He stated, "It is just not #$#$% fair that after all of the #$%$#$ work I did on them, I will never drive them. I will today, just once, with or without the old mans permission."
This startling announcement interrupted my gaze. To my surprise my other cousins were supporting this rather strange request. I decided to get into the act.
"I can get the keys for you." I announced. "I can get them without waking my uncle up. I know just were they are."
To my surprise and distinct pleasure, Thad seem to take notice of what I said, (for the first time.) This pleased me to no end. I went on for some time about my ability to steal things, learned from my brother. Soon however, the other boys went on to other subjects and we drifted off one by one to our pup tents. I was awakened, far earlier then expected, by one of my cousins, Willy, kicking my feet. Now science tells us that it takes at least ½ hour for ones brain to wake up. It must be true because my brain was still asleep noticed by my later actions.
Willy shouted, "It is time. You said you were going to steal the keys? Or was that just talk?"
I got out of my sleeping bag, did not bother to put on a shirt and marched, with the other cousins to the Main House. I was excited about having for the first time being their leader, but I also got a buzz out of doing something really wrong!
I snuck into my uncle's bedroom. There he was, still sound asleep. Snoring in fact! I went over to the keys, my uncle had shown me them when I first arrived. I carefully lifted the keys and then the window. I thought sure the creek of the window would wake him up, kind of hoping it would, so I would get into trouble and that would be the end of it. But no! I threw the keys to my waiting cousins who greedily grabbed them. I ran out of the main house and around to the garage.
Already, the tarps covering the trucks were on the ground. Thad was starting one up and Willy had the other one going. All of the cousins, including myself piled into the truck beds, and away we went!
I thought as stated the night before, that a joy ride meant a short ride around the farm and back home again. My delusions quickly fell apart after we left the farm and shortly arrived on the Interstate. I smiled trying to tell everyone including myself that I was having a good time, which I was not! This was especially clear to me when the two trucks began to drag race each other. We were passing cars and trucks and my terror began to inch its way on my face replacing the false smile.
Then it happened, I did not see the actual event. I was trying hand signals to get Thad to slow down. Willys truck along with the rest of the cousins suddenly disappeared. As if God had taken a great eraser and erased all trace of them. Thad was alarmed enough to finally slow down. He pulled the truck on the shoulder and began to reverse. When we passed a curb in the road we could see what happened.
Willy lost control of his truck; he turned too tightly at high speed. It went off the road, down the embankment, through a bob-wire fence and kept right on going about 200 yards into a muddy field.
As soon as Thads truck stopped we jumped out to see how we could help. I was shortly relieved when I got to the scene. All of the cousins got through it without a scratch. However the relieve soon left me when I saw the damage to the truck. The bob-wire fence had ripped the paint and the chrome to shreds. The front end was all smashed up, including the headlights. Worse yet, it was stuck in the mud. Not just somewhat stuck, but dead stuck. Willy was already switching gears, and the other cousins were pushing and pulling when I arrived, but the only thing the truck was doing is bathing us in hot, red, Alabama mud. Then I heard it, I tried not to, figured it was just my imagination, for you see I did not want this nightmare to get any worse. But the State Trooper on the Interstate made it perfectly clear though his bullhorn, we were in a "heap of trouble."
He ordered us to get out of the field and come back to the road. I learned then that Alabama State Troopers look like they are portrayed, Smoky the Bear Hat, reflectorize sun glasses and a sense of humor of a rattlesnake! Other State Troopers of the same kind arrived, and then my uncle arrived. The last vestige of the delusion of not getting caught quickly evaporated. My uncle never came toward us but directed the action with the State Troopers. He had been a retired sheriff of the county, I think! Anyway the State Troopers ordered all of us to kneel down by the road with our hands on our heads. I got exited when red flares started coming out. Wow, all of this commotion for what we did! One of the State Troopers took me to his car. He carefully bent me over the hood. After a slow methodical search, something I could really get excited about if it was a different occasion. Cuffed me and then placed me in his car without saying a word. Another cousin was placed in the same car and off we went.
This was the first and last time I had been in trouble with the police, so I took advantage of it. I had fun staring down kids in neighboring cars. Looking like a mass murderer or something. Then I told myself that I have to get serious about the situation. Simmons, Alabama, where my uncle farm is, is obviously too small to have a juvenile hall. I must be taken to Mobile, Alabama. I have to make sure, if they take my wallet, I will need the paper where my dad can be reached. Then I thought, how can I tell my dad? Is there any good way to tell your dad? "Hi dad, having fun on the farm, oh by the way, I accidentally stole a truck and have been busted, could you come bail me out of Juve in Mobile, please!" The thought of telling my dad removed the pleasure I had about being a criminal in the back seat of the patrol car. My dad will be pissed as hell!
The surprise came when the patrol car did not continue to Mobile, but turned off to my uncles farm. We were told to get out; the handcuffs were removed and then we stood up against the front of the Main House. Confusion rained in my young head, especially when I saw the look of my fellow criminal cousin. His look told me we would have been better in Juvenile Hall!
More cop cars arrived all caring cousins. All lined up in front of the house. My uncle was the last to arrive. He was in a flat bed truck carrying the other show truck that was non-injured. He then waved us into the Main House. I could tell his rage at what we had done from my uncles usually ghost white color. It had turned to match the red mud that covered my cousins and me. We got into the Main House into the Parlor. That alone said we were in big trouble, because no one is ever allowed here. We sat on the floor in a semi-circle, too terrified to speak. My uncle took his place by the mantel and just began yelling at us. Ripping us down one way and the other with his words. His lecture was hash, demeaning and sarcastic. A seed of anger began growing in me that repeated words in my head; these were only trucks for God-sakes, why is he so enraged with us! He let us have it with his words for more than an hour. Even after an hour he still did not give any indication of calming down.
More trouble occurred when he got on subject of "whos @#$#$## idea was this anyway?!" With these words Thad and Willy stood up. To my total surprise they both told him that stealing the trucks was their idea. They went on to take full blame for all of it. I was shocked. I figured this was some type of Alabama culture of honesty that gets you out being punishment.
I also stood up and honestly told of my part, of sneaking into the room and stealing the keys. I soon realized that this bit of honesty was actually Thad and Williams attempt to get more punished, not less, and thereby sparing the other cousins. My uncle walked slowly up to Thad and Willy. He began yelling at them standing an inch away from their face. I could see tears rolling up in Williams eyes, but Thad remained strong through the verbal onslaught. My uncle then slowly made his way to me. I was still standing but trembling. He then put his face an inch away from mine and began yelling at me at the top of his voice, like a drill sergeant ripping apart a young recruit. As soon has he had finished with me, I sat down immediately. The anger inside of me had grown form the seed to a full grown tee. I was only glad that I, like Thad, did not start crying.
My uncle continued talking to all of us for another hour. His voice had calmed down, but his demeanor did not give any hint that his rage had abated. Soon he told all of the boys that we had 30 minutes to clean up, change clothes and come back to the Main House to be punished. I did not like the sound of that at all. I had heard rumors that Alabama child disciplinary practices only involved pain on ones backside! I said to myself that those rumors must be exaggerated. The other cousins rushed from the Main House, running down the road. Some shared a bathroom with brothers and would really have to work to be back by the deadline. The deadline was easy for me. My room was the guest room upstairs in the Main House. I showered, change clothes and was back down stairs before any of the other boys had come back. I sat back on the floor with my head in my hands, not wanting to look in the face of my uncle who himself had arrived. With in a few seconds more cousins had joined us and sat down on the floor where they were before. I also noticed that not only their shirts clung to their backs from not drying off, but also many of their fathers had joined them.
When we had all gathered, my uncle told us to stand up and follow him. With out any further words we were marched out into the kitchen, down the stairs to the pantry and then out the back door. The small path led us down to the first barn. By this time in the morning a large crowd of relatives and neighbors had gathered to watch this spectacle of bad boys getting what is coming to them. I began to share my rage at them also.
We were all marched to the first barn. It was so large that it blocked the sky. Its deep faded red color reminded me of the rust color of blood. It had pained a large white "X" on the trim of the door. It reminded me of a large symbol of "DANGER DO NOT ENTER!
The door of the barn was swung open and the troop of boys where hustled inside. It was totally dark and my eyes slowly adjusted to the light. The floor was this dark, foreboding, gray dirt. The far end of the barn was pilled to the very top with hay bails. In front of the hay bails had recently been place four oil drums with large wooden blanks connecting them. I thought immediately to myself, "This is not good!"
My eyes finally adjusted to the light and the last image to be recorded into my brain was large wooden pallets on the floor. I also remember some of the younger boys taking this opportunity to begin crying.
My uncle came out of the shadows flanked by some of the other fathers. He just shouted "Take off your clothes and place them on the pallets." All my cousins began stripping themselves. I also took off my shirt and then shoes and socks. My pants slipped off and then came my underwear. I hesitated. Did my uncle mean nude? There was no problem showering in the Junior High Locker Room in California, but being naked in front of relatives? This was an odd thought, but it seemed to matter. But I saw the other boys continue to pull of their briefs and boxers, so I continued; a little bit more humiliated than I was use to being. I put all my clothes at the end of the pallet, ready to grab them if that became necessary. Then all twelve of us just stood their in the buff waiting for the next order and dreading it! I made sure I could stand next to Thad for that was the only pleasure that I could get out of this situation. My uncle reappeared with two of the other fathers. They quickly grabbed Thad by the arms and pushed him to the awaiting plank. For the first time I knew Thad, he had a panicked look on his face. They placed him, bending over on the blank so his naked buttocks was sticking high in the air. For my part, I felt for Thad, but also felt Thads natural beauty in my own pants.
Next they came for Willy. They placed him next to Thad over the plank. I was sure they would come for me next, but that did not happen. They saved me for next to last. I had a clear look at all 10 butts facing my way. When there were two of us left they came for me. They grabbed me hard by the arms. They brought me to the plank, lifted me up and placed me hard face down. I was so glad that my feet could reach the gray dirt floor, but my own weight on the plank made it most uncomfortable. Gary, about 10 years old was placed on my right side. Hank had already been placed on my left. Hank is a little older than me. Gary was already had tears running down his face. I thought to myself, Gary you need to be hurt first, and then you can cry.
As these thoughts were running though my head, I heard the first crash of a buttocks being pummeled. The sound echoed through the barn like a vast earthquake. The sounds of the whacks were coming fast and furious. The boy being beaten must be strong because he had not yelled; he was just taking the pain.
Panic became dominate in my thoughts. I thought to myself, get hold of yourself, and just get through it. It will be alright, just calm down. Now, I know the boy is being beaten is strong. He is probably Thad, being the first. Obviously my Uncle is not using a belt or strop. My own dad uses a belt on me and I know what that sounds like. It has got to be a large wooden paddle, which is the only thing that can make a sound like that on a boys buttocks. Thads beating continued. I could not count the number of whacks, some of the younger kids where crying louder and it was difficult to hear. I could soon hear the unmistakable sound of Thads voice first softly grunting then much louder after each whack. It seemed like for ever, but Thad never screamed or yelled. He truly took it like a man. I was glad when my Uncle moved on to Willys buttocks.
Willy began to scream and yell almost from the very first smack with the paddle. He continued to cry and beg his Grandfather to stop. He yelled that he could not take the pain. Yet my uncle still continued to beat him as soundly as he did Thad. I was less concerned about Willys buttocks then I was concerned about Thad. I wonder if it was bleeding, black, blue or just a dark red? I was wondering if I would get the same treatment. I knew I would soon find out. As my uncle finished with one boy he moved on to another. As I feared, Thad and Willy got far more then the other boys. That meant that I would get much more then the other boys when my time came. My Uncle finished with the first board of boys and soon came to the next. The sound of the barn was filled with the high pitch scream and yelling of boys being spanked. Even when my uncle moved on to beat another cousin the boys still continued to cry, especially the younger ones.
The anticipation increased dramatically when I could tell my uncle getting closer. It was wrenching my stomach in knots. My uncle began to work on the boys on my board. I could hear the sound of the beating very distinct. I could hear the gasp of breath from my cousin as he got walloped from the paddling. I still could not see anything, for my head was still looking down at the dirt floor, until it was time for Hank the boy next to me, to be punished. I saw then how it was being done. Two fathers in front of Hank grabbed his hands and stretched him over the plank so his buttocks was high in the air. Hank was mumbling about taking it. Once they had him stretched out I heard an ear splitting whack. I saw Hanks muscles tighten at once. He led out a gasp of air and with a look of complete horror and agony on his face. Once again I heard the whack. Hank flinched and pulled tight against the grip the two men had on him. Each time he got hit, I could feel the board that I was laying on shake. Although I still could not see my uncle, I knew it was him spanking Hank. Hanks eyes soon were filled with tears. They ran down his face like rain. I watched the tears dribble off his nose and chin. After each whack he sobbed and cried, but never yelled from the pain.
It did not take long for my uncle to finish with Hank. I was glad that my wait was over. After a long pause the two men holding Hanks hand let go, but Hank still did not move. He just cried quietly. The two men shifted to my direction. I held out my arms for them to grab to hold me down. They took them and forced them down almost to the ground. This caused my buttocks to be raised high in the air. I held my knees straight finding it hard not to tremble because of what is about to happen to me. I told myself I am getting spanked for a reason, dont cry or yell what ever you do. And just remember it will be over. My uncle took the longest time to start, but he finally did!
I felt it before I heard it. The pain ripped through my naked buttocks, traveled down my back and exploded in my head. It was more pain then I thought. I was glad they held me down because my entire body jerked from the first whack. I knew for sure it was a large wooden paddle being used. I was hit with all of my Uncles might. The second blow came just as the first. It felt like someone had put my buttocks in a vice and hung me up by it. The pain was incredible, and my spanking only had just begun!
The beating was just getting started. The pain soon blocked all of my other thoughts. My body was trembling and I felt sweat drip off me like a waterfall. I kept gasping for air, trying anything to get the pain out of my head. My Uncle never let up. Tears were starting to well up in my own eye. I was yelling at myself in my head, "Dont you cry boy! Dont you cry; you will take it like a man." I could feel the methodical pounding of my buttocks taking its toll. The pain now was more then I ever felt in my life. I did not realize the human body could make so much pain! After each blow I bit down hard on my lip not to yell out. I put all of the willpower I had left not to yell from the beating. I wanted it so much to be the last blow of the paddle, so I could maintain my control, but it wasnt. There was always the next hard crack across my upturned buttocks. I new I was losing control. More tears started to roll down my cheeks like two rivers. I could see them trip into puddles on the dirt. I just wanted it to stop before I really blew it and began yelling from the pain.
Then all of a sudden it stopped. I braced myself for another whack, but it did not come. My buttocks only felt the piercing pain of the spanking, but no more additional whacks. My body still was shaking. I could not tell if blood or sweat was rolling down my legs. I just had one thought. It is over. I survived without yelling or screaming. I had been just like my hero Thad had been. I took it like a man!
These thoughts of relieve were short lived when I heard the high pitch scream of Gary besides me. In some ways, listing to a ten year old getting the hell beat out of him is worse then going thought it yourself. Occasionally our eyes would meet after a particularly hard whack across his young buns and he would grimace in pain and shout again. I could not help him very much; I had my own pain to deal with. My buttocks still stung with a raging fire. I could feel my buttocks heat even on my back and legs.
Very soon Gary was lifted off the board, being the last boy to be spanked. Then they came for me. They lifted me up by my arms, but it did not seem that my legs could work to well. Each step, for they kind of dragged me, was another step in total agony. Then I got a glimpse of this wonderful view of ten nicely spanked boys butts, all in a row. That image would last happily in my mind until the present day. Looking at Thads buttocks, something I always wanted to do, it was clear that Thad, Willy and I got it far worse then the other boys. All of our bottoms where blistered with dark blue welts and an occasional strip of red blood. All of the other boys just had red to dark red upturned bottoms.
They dragged me to the pallet and left me there to pick up the other boys on the boards. I tried my hardest to stand up and put on my pants with as little movement as possible. Each movement meant another meeting with searing pain. I finally got my pants on by holding on to the barn wall. Then figured I could not do anymore and still remain conscious, so I left all of my clothes on the pallet. I carefully made my way to the barn door. Finally I got my legs to work, sort of. The sunlight felt really good on my face as I made my exit to the torture chamber that had been the barn. I could tell people were looking at me, wondering how bad it was under my pants. I paid them no attention. I went as fast as I could to the Main House.
The stairs to my room were also chapter in total pain. It took me almost an hour to finally get to the top. I got into the guest room, carefully pulled off my pants and examined the damage in the mirror. It looked like it felt. My bottom was badly bruised and would be for a long time. I then lay on the bed, telling myself, I deserved being spanked and I will not steal anything again. With these thoughts I began to cry very hard. Even while I cried, I knew that I was a better man for going through my uncles own brand of Alabama discipline.