Boot Camp
By Jason Sterling
Comments or suggestions always welcomed at: sterling.jason@gmail.com
PROLOGUE
In the early 1950's archeological diggings uncovered buried scrolls written in classical Latin by an anonymous author, but very probably the person described in the story as the assistant to Titus the leading character. The first translation into English was done then but never published, likely due to the fact that the subject matter for the time seemed to be racy and even possibly pornographic. I found this version doing some research on other matters and transposed the wording into contemporary American English. I've used the Latin words only when there was no good American equivalent available.
In the 2nd or 3rd century the Roman Empire was still at its height and within Rome itself roughly half the population were slaves. This needed a large, well run organization to supply the requirement for this vital work force. Semi military operations did this training, supplying instruction and culling expertise to fill the needed household slaves that were the type mostly in demand. This story may seem brutal and sexually exploitive, but that is how it was back then.
Part 1
A new batch of slaves arrived to be trained in the special fort. These men were those still alive when captured during one of the campaigns in foreign, hostile lands. Some were prisoners of war, most were merely peasants or slaves of the locals that were conquered. For whichever or however they arrived, they all needed to be schooled, and broken if need be, in the trade of becoming a well performing worker in the ranks of those who will be consigned to the lowest duties that the Empire needs doing. The fields, the mines, the marine galleys, all require strong backs to bend to the tasks that must be done if this Empire is to keep its place as ruler of half the known world.
My name is Titus and I too was taken as a slave when I was no more than 14 years of age. After much training and rigid discipline by a Master who taught me much, but more importantly took a personal liking to me, I served him well for many enjoyable years. Eventually he died, and to my surprise, granted me freedom in a document he left that was opened and read upon his death. Having no other assets or property, I had to earn a living on my own for the first time in my life. All I knew was the slave training camp and the ins and outs of the politics there, so I applied to the Camp Commander for a position with him. He had his own stable of comely girls and boys to service him and I was too old to be of any interest to him, but he did need trainers. He gave me a job predicated upon my learning to read and write and a place to live. The pay was miserly but it was enough to live on.
My employment consisted of gathering fresh recruits into cohorts of 20 men at a time, strip them of all clothing, have them collared and inspected to weed out the ones that didn't have at least a rudimentary understanding of basic Roman language. Those unable to speak or perceive our tongue would be sent to a different part of the garrison where they would be taught the basics. Some slaves feigned the inability to grasp the most common language in the known world, but after a taste of the whip on their bare backs and loins, most of the impostors could summon up enough Latin to qualify for being included in our training program.
Once collared the men would be chained together into groups of 5. The slaves had enough length of chain between them to be able to walk and work freely as a unit. Another chain went around their left ankle attached to a removable clamp when outside and only their immediate instructor was present. When safely in a a more controlled setting the leg chain was taken off. When all 20 of the slots were filled, the slaves would be ordered to form a square facing each other and a physician's assistant would go slowly from one man to the next feeling here, poking there until all the holes of each body was inspected and probed. If all of these recruits were found generally free of disease and no major physical problems exempted anyone, they were ordered to go into one of the fort's inner vaults and stand at attention. At least half of most cohorts had to have this stance explained to them. The other half were usually captured soldiers and had a good grasp of what standing at attention meant.
When screams of pain came out of the adjacent room, even through heavy wooden doors, the fresh trainees got very nervous. This is where I'd first make contact with these guys. I had to walk among them carrying a long switch, give a good healthy cut to the buttocks of one of them, mostly to get his attention, and shout in his ear, "You slaves were ordered to stand at attention and in that position there is no talking, movement or otherwise doing anything but standing in an erect and rigidly upright manner. Those who can not do this will be severely punished. Is that understood?" Usually that was enough to get backs straight and unmoving again.
A strong smell of burnt flesh emanated from behind the closed doors soon after the next cry of pain was heard. I stepped infront of the waiting slaves and explained in a loud voice that what was going on in the next room was a branding on the right arm of every new recruit and I showed them my own personal brand. I expained, "See this here? I got mine at age 14 and I have carried it with me ever since. Sure, it hurt at first, but the pain is over in less than a minute and a healing salve is applied right afterwards. Now how can you call yourselves men when you can't take a little bit of pain now and then?" I learned from my own experience that not knowing what was going to happen to you was far worse than what other tortures awaited a newly captured body being trained for some duty only the gods knew was awaiting them.
Once they were all branded I got them together as a group and explained whatever they had been named before to forget that epithet. "From this point on you will only use the number burned into your flesh as the name you will go by. To make matters easier, in small groups like you are now, I will shorten your name and only use the last 3 numbers. You there! Step forward and let me read your number. You are 136! Got that slave?" Just then everyone looked down at their right arms. A few of the neophytes had no idea how to read Roman numerals and had to be told what their numbers were.
"Remember your new names you scum. If I call out your number and you don't immediately respond with 'Sir. Yes Sir.' you will feel the sting of my whip on your worthless skin. After which you will thank me for the punishment just meted out by me or whomever else in authority is chastising you. Now that I've fully explained that...form a line and follow me outside to a place where I can cover the fundamentals of how you are to act and behave while you are here." The cohort was led to the far end of the field and told to stand at attention. In front of them was a raised scaffold with 5 sets of hanging chains, 3 of which were empty, 2 sets had slaves hanging by their wrists just high enough to not be able to touch the planks below their feet even if they tried to lift up on their toes. Off to the side sat a young lad who held a cat o' nine tail in one hand and a thick rod in the other, looking intently at an hour glass on a stand in front of him. He was just looking at the sand run down to the lower part of the globe. He too was a slave because he wore a tight leather collar around his neck and nothing else.
"You see those miserable wretches hanging there. That's an example of someone who didn't follow the strict rules of this camp. Now turn around and face me. Those 10 of you in the front rank drop to your knees. Those in the back rank stand at attention and none of you take your eyes off of me while I make it plain to you the most important instructions you will be expected to follow from now on" I looked over the squad standing before me and saw an assemblage of frightened men and boys who were about to be trained in all phases of servitude. Pain and denial of basic needs would be my means of getting this motley crew into shape to become good, submissive slaves to carry out anything their new Masters wanted done---no matter the personal abhorrence involved in the task.
End of Part 1