Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons alive or dead is coincidental. The venue is fictional and any resemblance to actual bases, locations, is coincidental.
This story takes place in 1976 Canada and reflects the mores, traditions, customs, etc., of the times. I urge all of those who read this story to remember that what is "politically correct" today, was not thought of back then. If you are Lib-Left, politically correct and have jumped on the bandwagons of whatever causes are the fads of the month, please do not continue past this point. This also applies the so-called "Religious" Right and "Moral" Majority. I respectfully remind you that the "Good Book" also contains proscriptions, restrictions, dos and don'ts that I don't see or hear any of you thumping bibles about. Write me, I'll be glad to give you some excellent web sites. To all the anti-this and anti-that, Bible Thumpers, Libertarians and the ACLU, the bankrupt and increasingly irrelevant United Nations, please do not send me e-mails espousing whatever cause you're touting. I have no time for claptrap.
As this work contains scenes of explicit sexual acts of a homosexual nature, if such erotica offends you, please move on to a tamer site. If your mainstay in life is Bible-thumping cant, please move on. If you are not of legal age to read, possess or download writings of an erotic nature, or if possession, reading, etc., is illegal where you live, please move on.
This story is written in an age without worry, and as such unprotected sex is practiced exclusively. I urge all of you to NEVER engage in sexual acts without proper protection. The life you save will be your own.
I will respond to all e-mails (except flames).
The Boys Of Aurora - Chapter 34
Ray slowly pushed aside the bedclothes and fumbled for his underpants, which he had thrown on the deck before going to bed. He slipped on his briefs and then leaned across Kevin's sleeping body to kiss him on the cheek. Kevin stirred, then reached back to grope his lover, friend and partner. "What time is it?" he asked groggily.
"Too early for you, Sleeping Beauty," replied Ray with a grin. "It's just gone 0500. Time for me to go to work."
Kevin struggled awake, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "I thought breakfast wasn't until 0900." He held his arms and smiled an invitation. "Take those drawers off and come back to bed."
With a laugh Ray avoided Kevin's grasp. "Sorry, but there's still a lot of work to do before then." He pulled on his T-shirt, leaving his lover grumbling. Ray exited Chef's office, where Kevin and he had spent the night, walked through the galley and into the dining hall. As expected the sandwiches that were always left out for the First and Middle Watchmen were gone, as were the three loaves of bread he'd put out before going to bed. The jars of peanut butter, jam and jelly that were always out were open and the serving counter was, as usual, a pathetic mess, splattered with the remnants of the snacks devoured by the Cadets of the Watch.
Ignoring the mess - he would have Randy or Joey clean it later - Ray went into the heads where he had his first and, he thought, most satisfying piss of the day. He showered and then pulled on clean underwear, donned a fresh set of whites and was about to return to the dining hall when he remembered the rubbish tip in the dining hall. He pushed open the door to the lounge, expecting to find Joey and Randy entwined together. He found Sandro and Chad.
They had pulled two of the long sofa cushions to the deck and had formed a bed. Both boys were naked and Chad was draped across the young Russian's stocky body, his right hand resting on Sandro's soft, thick, uncircumcised penis. As Ray watched Chad snuffled in his sleep and rolled slightly, dragging his leg back and exposing his genitals. What struck Ray was that both boys were remarkably similar, with smooth, thick penises and large, low hanging testicles contained in smooth, hairless sacs. The only difference between the two young men was that Chad was circumcised. Both boys had a stocky build with broad, strong chests. Sandro's chest was hairless, tightly muscled and smoothly taut. Chad, while he had hair on his chest and a very thick pubic bush that encircled his soft genitals and extended down his inner thighs, was not as tightly muscled and there was a developing ring of fat around his waist.
Ray knelt down and tugged gently on Sandro's foot. Sandro grumbled and yawned and opened his eyes slightly. When he realized that Ray was looking back at him Sandro's eyes widened and he blushed with embarrassment. He began to stammer an explanation. Ray, who had been doing with Kevin more or less what Sandro had been doing with Chad, held up his hand. Before he could say anything Chad rolled onto his back, opened his eyes and flashed him a shameless grin. "I suppose you realize this is exactly what it looks like," he said. He sat upright and put his arm protectively around Sandro. His face sobered. "I hope you're not going to get all outraged at finding us this way."
"I am grown man!" growled Sandro. "I know what I do and Ray is my friend. He will not say anything."
"You two are not doing anything that I haven't done myself, or other guys haven't done before," replied Ray with a slight smile. "My surprise was that it wasn't . . ." Ray stopped speaking abruptly. Chad might be a brother, but he was not a part of the special Band of Brothers. Joey and Randy were and it was best not to mention names.
"I have not seen them," said Sandro slowly, ignoring Chad's questioning glance. "I will get dressed and help with the breakfast."
Chad's hand slid down to Sandro's crotch. He was leaving AURORA with the other cadets but after last night, after what he and the Russian boy had done, Chad did not want the night to end! He gave Ray a plaintive look. "Do you need him right now? Can you spare him for ten minutes?" he all but begged. "Just ten minutes more!"
Sandro very carefully lifted Chad's hand away from his responding penis. "Last night make good fun. Now I go to work. You get dressed. We talk later." He picked up his gunshirt.
Disappointed, Chad stood up and began to dress. Ray saw the crestfallen, disappointed look on his face, and the look on Sandro's face, a look of stoic, Slavic expectance that Chad's request would be refused. Last night Chad had tapped a deeply hidden well and Sandro did not want the night to end!
Ray saw the looks and understood. Whatever had gone on between the two had not been a quick roll in the hay for either of them. Sandro had found in Chad something he would never find in Nathan. Ray took the rumpled gunshirt from Sandro's hand and dropped it on the deck. "Twenty minutes, okay?" He turned without waiting for either boy to reply. As he walked down the short corridor to the dining room Ray cursed Randy and Joey under his breath. Damn it, where are they?
Aboard the command YAG a slight rocking motion of the boat awakened Sean. He opened his eyes, stretched and then automatically reached into his tighty-whiteys to adjust his morning woody. Feeling the heat of his morning boner made him regret that he and Cory had not spent some private time together last night. Being with Cory was wonderful; having sex with Cory was beyond description. Just thinking of Cory made Sean's erection throb and jump in the constricting fabric of his underpants. He continued to feel himself and then pulled his hand out of his briefs. Jerking off after being with Cory just didn't seem right. He threw aside the covers, swung his legs over the edge of his bunk and reached for the travel clock that sat on the built-in desk beside his bunk. It was 0500.
Sean stood up and stretched, not much because the cabin, barely five feet by seven feet, restricted his movement. There was enough room in the compartment for Sean's bunk, a built-in wardrobe/locker and the desk, which doubled as a bed table. He peered through the open scuttle but couldn't see much. Dawn was just breaking and as the boat was moored bows on to the east, all he saw were shadows. He bent down, opened the first drawer - one of a set of four side-by-each drawers that formed the base of his bunk - and pulled out a clean T-shirt, some sport socks, and a clean pair of briefs. As he straightened the pressure on his bladder reminded him that he needed to visit the heads.
Sean picked up his shaving kit and left his cabin, padding the length of the mess deck, mentally ticking off the sleeping cadets lying in the bunks that lined both sides of the huge compartment. Forty cadets slept here. Forward were the heads and washplace. After showering he shaved and then put on his clean underwear.
He mentally began running down his checklist of things to do before 0800. The YAG Squadron, when the boats were in port, augmented the local Canadian Coastguard as part of the Search and Rescue operations in Comox waters. Each boat in rotation was Ready Duty Boat, on call for 24-hours in case of a maritime emergency. Sean did not expect much to happen today. It was a Thursday and not too many small boats would be out. With luck they would spend most of the day alongside. The boats had not done much all summer, and while Sean was very proud that the CCG called on the Sea Cadets to help them out, he sometimes felt that it was a waste of effort to keep a boat on standby during the week. However, it was not his place to question. It was his job to see that the boat was manned and ready.
Leaving the heads, Sean looked again at the swaddled lumps in the bunks. Everything seemed normal to him and he breathed a sigh of relief. The boat was under sailing orders and all leave stopped at 0600. With all but two of the bunks occupied he did not need to worry about anyone missing ship. He carried on to his cabin and was about to open the door when he wheeled and stared into the murky gloom of the mess deck. Two of the bunks were empty. He returned to the triple tier of bunks in the starboard aft corner of the mess deck. The top bunk held a sleeping form. The bottom bunk was empty, as it should have been. Able Cadet Longworth was Duty Corporal of the Gangway and he was supposed to be up on deck, although Sean more than suspected the boy would be asleep in the wheelhouse. The middle bunk, which should have supported the long, muscular form of one Chief Petty Officer Phillip Thornton was empty! Not only was the bunk empty it was evident from the taut neatness of the bedclothes that it had not been slept in!
Sean cursed under his breath. Of all the cadets Thornton was the least expected to be adrift. No, he was not yet adrift. But, no matter. Thornton was an essential part of the well-oiled, smoothly functioning elite of the boat. He was a Special Sea Dutyman, a cadet chosen for his coolness and experience to man the helm whenever the boat entered or left harbour, a cadet that could be depended on not to panic if the wicket got sticky. Thornton might gloat and strut about his expertise but the fact remained that he was a damned good seaman.
"Where in the hell could Phil be?" Sean asked himself. Phil had left the beach with one of the serving wenches, but she had returned, complaining about Phil's inept performance, and had left with the other girls at 2330 which was what, almost six hours ago? Had the experience been so devastating to Phil that he'd gone off somewhere to sulk? Where the hell was he!
Sean went up on deck wearing only his underwear and white socks. He assumed that somewhere, buried deep in Queen's Regulations and Orders (Cadets) there was an injunction about appearing on deck in your undies, but right now he had more important things to worry about. As he expected he found young cadet Longworth curled up on the wheelhouse settee, sleeping soundly. He resisted the urge to smack Longworth's skinny shanks and went on deck. He peered down the length of the jetty. Nothing. He looked toward the harbour, past the Boat Shed. Nothing. He looked back toward the land and scanned the long, curving road that led from the mainland to the spit. Nothing.
Cursing, Sean returned below and sat on his bunk. What the hell was he supposed to do now? God Damn Phil Thornton. God damn him! Where in hell was he?
Chief Petty Officer Phillip Thornton's eyes fluttered open. It was either very late or very early. Thin fingers of light from the rising sun filtered through the dirt streaked windows of the Boat Shed. He could feel a delicious tightening in his groin and for a moment thought that he was having an erotic dream. Then his eyes popped open. Holy Christ! He was not having a dream! He was lying, spread-eagle and naked, in the Boat Shed. On his left side was a red haired, slim bodied boy whose hand was rubbing slowly across the engorged helmet of his erect penis. On the right side was another boy, as slim as the redhead, but with dark hair. He had his hand on Phil's balls, tugging gently and slowly kneading the heavy ovals over and over in the smooth sac that contained them. Phil could sense the familiar feeling building and suddenly . . . "Oh Shit! OH Shit! OH SHIT!" he growled, filling the echoing chamber with his orgasmic howl. He raised his hips, thrusting his huge erection into the air.
Randy giggled as a thin, almost colourless glob of semen oozed from the gaping slit in the deep pink head of Chief Thornton's pulsing, jerking dick. The Chief's well was empty - only his dick didn't know it.
"That's seven," said Joey clinically. "Eight if you count that wash out with the broad." He looked at Chief Thornton, who was shuddering and moaning as his post-orgasmic flush drained from his body. "You sure are some stud!"
"Seven times?" asked Chief Thornton weakly. "I came SEVEN times?"
"Eight times, stud," corrected Randy. "We really should count the time with Louise 'cause you did nut." He giggled, remembering Louise crashing about the path in frustration. Then he leaned down and began suckling on the Chief's left nipple.
Chief Thornton lay still as the memories of the night came flooding back. He had been so lost in euphoric lust that the memories were jumbled, distorted pictures filling his mind. From the moment Randy had rimmed him while Joey sucked his dick until this final, ultimate hand job, they had done things to each other that he had never conceived could be possible. He had thought that he knew every way to please and be pleased. God, had he been wrong. The two young cooks had found places on his body that sent him flying into the air, filled with lust and pleasure. They had . . . and he had . . . "I sucked your dick, didn't I?" he asked Joey abruptly.
Joey nodded. "And Randy's. And we sucked yours." He smiled and reached down, fondling Thornton's soft penis, rubbing the head gently with his thumb. "You have a nice dick there, Chiefie. We made the right choice."
Thornton looked down at his penis. He did have a nice dick, if he said so himself, and had drawn some very favourable comments from the guys in the locker room. It was thick, cleanly circumcised, and rose proudly from a very thick, black bush of curly hair that circled his genitals completely and crawled down his inner thighs. Yeah, it was a nice set of tackle. "You guys chose me?" he asked, confused and a little pleased that these two young sexpots had chosen him!
Randy snuggled close to Thornton and rubbed the Chief's firm, muscled stomach. "We were talking - at the party - about guys we would like to do. We made a pretend list. You were very high on it."
Joey cuddled against Thornton and threw his leg over the Chief's, bringing his dick into direct contact with the Chief's hairy thigh. Joey was horny and really wanted to get off again. "We weren't sure that you'd want to be with us. We didn't follow you and that girl, honest."
Thornton laughed quietly. "I'm sure as fuck glad you did!" Much to his own surprise, and to the surprise of the two boys, Phil placed his arms around them, stroking their backs.
The two boys looked at each other, then at the Chief. "You are?" asked Joey. "But you like girls!"
Thornton laughed and shook his head. "So? Does that mean I can't like boys?"
"Well, we always thought . . ."
"Joey, when a guy is horny he'd fuck a snake. I was horny and . . ." he looked thoughtful. "You guys helped me a lot. That girl, Louise, she was just a fuck, which I didn't get. Joey, you want me to help you with that thing?"
Joey, who had never stopped his rubbing, giggled. "Not right now, thanks. My dick is feeling so good I don't want to stop."
"Well stop anyway," ordered Thornton. "Stand up a minute." He pushed the two boys away and gestured for them to stand up, which they did. He looked them up and down, two slim, handsome boys, with almost identical hardons, except that Randy's circumcision ring was lower down his shaft and his little bush of hair was red, while Joey's sparse patch was dark brown, almost black. Grinning, he rubbed both boys' penises, running his thumb across their little acorns. Then he kneaded their small testicles, feeling the softness of their scrotums. "You guys aren't too small for your size. In a few years you'll be giving me a run for my money."
"We will?" asked Randy. He had always thought that his dick was kind of small.
Thornton nodded. A worried look crossed his face as he compared his cock to their cocks. He looked at Randy, then at Joey. "I'm pretty big. I didn't, ah, I didn't hurt either of you, did I?"
Joey grinned, remembering bouncing up and down on the Chief's penis. He remembered the explosions of ecstasy that had set him to shuddering and grunting to a monumental eruption. He shook his head. "You did good, Chiefie. It hurt a little at first but later, WOW!"
Randy remembered being spread-eagled on his stomach, propped up on two life jackets, with the full weight of the Chief on his body. He also remembered the Chief making slow, almost desperate love to him, nipping and licking his ear, muttering how good he felt, murmuring softly how wonderful Randy was, how beautiful he was. Randy also remembered the fantastic orgasm he'd had as the Chief's gentle thrusting rubbed his dick across the rough fabric of the life jacket. "You were real nice, Chiefie. You didn't hurt me at all."
Joey snickered. "Did we hurt you?"
Thornton's belly shook with laughter. "You guy's were real gentle!" Suddenly he leaned forward and sucked Joey's hard penis into his mouth. Joey squeaked and tried to pull away. Thornton sucked hard and fast and before Joey knew it his penis was thundering toward yet another climax. When he had milked Joey dry, Thornton grabbed Randy and performed the same service on him. In less then a minute Randy squealed loudly and his body stiffened.
Both boys collapsed, enjoying their post-orgasm afterglow. The Chief let them snuggle against him and then spoke again. "You guys know I can get into a lot of trouble if anybody finds out about tonight. I'm 18 and you two are what? Maybe 13?"
"We're old enough to know what we want," replied Randy, purposely avoiding answering the Chief's question. "And we won't be mentioning you to anybody."
"Randy's right, Chiefie. We won't tell anybody," confirmed Joey. "We know what would happen to you and we also know that nobody would believe us if we told them that we put the make on you. It's not fair, but we know."
Thornton made a small face. "Thanks, guys. I know you won't say anything." His eyebrows went up a bit. "What we did was a lot of fun, but guys, you've got to be careful. You can't go around putting the make on every guy you like."
"We don't," replied Randy, affronted. "You're sounding like Phantom!"
"Phantom?" The Chief's eyes widened. "Have you guys been . . .?"
"No," Randy snapped. "Phantom wouldn't. We would, but he won't!"
"Phantom knows about us, Chiefie," said Joey softly. "He worries about us and wants us to be careful, too. He helped us understand what we are, and he just wants us to be careful, like you." He gently stroked Chief Thornton's face. "We've only fooled around with one other boy, and he was our age. You're our first old guy."
"Old guy!"
"Well, you know," continued Joey with a smile. "You are older than we are."
"I'm not that much older!" growled Thornton.
Randy snickered. "We sure found that out!" He gave the Chief a hug. "You are the first older boy we've been with," he said consolingly. "We didn't start out thinking about doing you." Randy looked at the Chief. "Honest, we didn't. It was just that we'd been talking about being with one of the senior cadets and then we were walking back to our barracks and found you."
"And started feeling me up!" returned Thornton with smile. He was not at all angry.
"Well, you were lying there, with your pants down and your dick out. We took a chance." Joey began to look around for his clothes. "We had fun, and so did you. You didn't force us to do anything that we didn't want to do. If anything I'm only sorry that we didn't find out about you sooner. We could have had a lot more fun together!"
Randy also started looking for his clothing. "We have to get back. We have the early morning watch and Chef will be pissed off if we're late." He found his briefs and pulled them on.
"We can still have fun," said Thornton carefully. After last night he had little use for girls. Besides, he still had two weeks to go on his commission and was not about to pass up a very good thing. He began dressing.
Joey and Randy exchanged a glance. This Chief Thornton was completely different from the usual surly, arrogant boy they knew so well. Last night he had responded eagerly to their ministrations and had surprised them both by his undemanding nature. Even when he'd been fucking them he'd taken great care not to hurt them.
Joey gave Thornton a suspicious look. "You don't like girls anymore?"
Thornton smiled and ducked his head. "Let's just say I like two boys better. When I'm back home I'll probably go back to girls." He feigned a shudder. "Until then . . ."
"Until then you'll settle for a summer fuck," finished Randy for the Chief. He regarded Joey. "Could be worse, I suppose. He is good looking and he's got a nice dick."
Joey nodded and looked at the Chief with what seemed to be professional detachment. He glanced at the heavy bulge in the Chief's underpants. "He's also got a super set of balls." He nodded slowly. "And he was nice to us. And he didn't call us names."
Chief Thornton glared at the boys, an exasperated look on his face. "Hey, guys, I am in the room! And I'm not some piece of cat meat you're thinking of taking home." He knelt down and took both the boys into his arms and hugged them warmly. "Last night was wonderful, beyond belief. I never knew that being with another guy could be so much, well, more than fun." He nodded firmly. "You most definitely are not a summer fuck!" He gave each boy a quick peck on the lips. "Last night was more than just fooling around, more than helping a buddy get his rocks off."
"Just so you know, Chief, we are not something you can whistle up whenever the end of your dick gets all tingly!" retorted Joey. "We went with you because we wanted to. We could have just walked by and left you lying there, all covered in spunk and moaning."
Thornton blew out a huge breath of air, which caused Randy to giggle. The Chiefie gave a whole new meaning to "penis breath". "Look, Randy, Joey, I don't know how to make you understand how I feel," he said presently. "I'm into girls, and I'm not queer, but what we did last night makes me wonder if maybe I'm bi. After all, I did make out with both of you, and both of you fucked me."
"I didn't hear you saying no, Chiefie," replied Randy blandly. "You liked what we were doing, so don't say that you're not a little bit queer."
"You might go back to girls but you really like boys," concluded Joey. "We don't care, really, if you're straight. We do care if you think you can get off with us because you're horny and there's nobody else around to help you out. We can stand being just a summer fuck as far as you're concerned. Just don't bullshit us, okay?"
Thornton ran his fingers through his short hair and looked at the boys. They might be young kids, but they knew what they were, and what they wanted. "I'm not bullshitting, Joey. I meant what I said. You guys are not a summer fuck. I want to be with you again. I'm queer for you two. There, I said it. Happy?"
Joey shrugged. "It's not a case of us being happy. We just don't want you thinking we're easy, or that you can just sort of demand us whenever you want. Or make fun of us, like you did before last night."
"Or call us names," continued Randy. "Just be honest with us, that's all we ask. And be honest with yourself."
"I am being honest," insisted Chief Thornton. "Look, I know I've been a real asshole, to a lot of people, you guys included. I can't change the way I am overnight, but damn it, at least let me try!" He grinned. "I'm duty until tomorrow morning at 0800. But then I'm off so how about we do something together." He saw the looks of disbelief on the boys' faces. "We can go into town, just hang out. You don't have to do anything," he concluded hastily.
"You mean that?" asked Joey doubtfully.
"Yes, I mean it." Thornton stood up and put a hand on each boy's shoulder. "And it doesn't have to be tomorrow. I'm staying until the end of the month. We can go anytime you like."
Randy scratched his chin, thinking. "We're staying as well and we will have a lot of free time," he mused.
Chief Thornton bent down, his face serious, and looked both boys in the eye. He wanted to dispel any doubt about his intentions that they might have. "Joey, Randy, I like you guys, a lot. Okay, the sex is great, and I want to do it again. But I also want you guys to know that I don't think that you're just a summer fuck. I do want to get to know you better, and you don't have to sleep with me if you don't want to."
"What if we say no?" Joey was determined that neither he nor Randy would be taken advantage of. Thornton grinned and made a pumping motion with his right hand. Joey made the decision for both of them. "Okay. We'll do it." He looked at Randy. "We better get going. It's awfully light out there."
"I have to go as well," said Chief Thornton. "We're the Ready Duty boat as of 0800 and I need to clean up 'cause we sure do smell funky."
Both boys giggled. "This whole place smells funky," said Joey. He nodded toward a door in the side bulkhead. "We'll go down to the floating jetty and walk to shore along that." He smiled softly. "Thanks for being nice, Chiefie. We'll see you tomorrow."
Chief Thornton nodded, then pulled the boys closer. "Just be careful, okay? You don't have to worry about the Duty Quartermaster. He's probably asleep in his shack." He gave each boy an impulsive kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for choosing me. Thanks for everything." He patted each boy on his bum. "Now go along. You don't want Chef getting all pissed off at you."
"You'll be okay?" asked Randy as he opened the door to the ladder that led down to the floating jetty.
Thornton waved them away. "I'll be fine. Just you two remember. Tomorrow, 0800."
"We'll be there," promised Joey as he passed through the doorway.
"And so will I," murmured the Chief. He left the Boat Shed and stood in the shadows, watching as the two young boys scampered nimbly along the floating jetty and up the beach. As they turned to start the short walk to their barracks Joey looked back and saw the Chief. He wiggled his fingers, a small gesture of goodbye.
Chief Thornton smiled and gave the boys a small wave in return. He wondered if it was possible to fall in love with two guys at the same time. He watched them disappear around the corner of the Ropewalk. Something had happened to him during the night. Something frightening, but at the same time something wonderful, something oh, so wonderful!
Thursday, the 19th of August 1976, dawned clear and cool. In the Gunroom, Cory opened his eyes, stretched, scratched, did his morning adjustments and frowned. For a long while he lay in his bunk watching the dust motes dancing in the weak, early morning sunlight streaming through the bare windows. Today was the last day of the Training Year and the cadets were going home, a day of happiness, of promised family reunions, of sleeping in one's own bed, in one's own room, after two months of pigging it in a barracks. Last year when the last day arrived he had been happy. Now he felt only great sadness.
He sat up and looked around, smiling when he saw that Fred's bunk was empty. Todd was in his bunk, curled up in a ball, the covers pulled over his head. In the bunk next to Todd, Nicholas lay on his side, his long slim body hidden by the thin coverlet.
Greg lay on top of his covers, a silly grin on his face and his hand shoved firmly down the front of his white briefs. Harry was still barricaded under his blankets, probably having nightmares of the Pride of the Fleet imprisoned in concrete, and of flashing chisels . . .
On the other side of the Gunroom Two Strokes slept as he always slept, flat on his back and looking like the undertaker had just laid him out for viewing. Thumper, for some reason, was emulating Greg, smiling broadly. It was no surprise to Cory that Thumper's hand was down the front of his briefs. Chris and Jon lay on their sides facing each other, each with an arm extended and their fingers touching.
Cory pulled a pair of gym shorts over the boxers he had slept in and slipped on his Jesus boots. He left the Gunroom, stopping briefly to smell the fresh morning air and walked to the Mess Hall. As he approached he saw that Mark's car had been moved and was now parked flush against the dumpster. Cory walked to the side of the car and peered in. What he saw caused him to laugh loudly. Stretched out in a jumble of legs, bums, penises and testicles on the spacious back seat, were Nathan and Fred.
Cory pounded the roof of the car with the flat of his hand. Both Fred and Nathan jumped at what sounded like a gun salvo reverberating through the enclosed sedan, flailed, squirmed and fell off the seat. When they saw Cory peering through the window at them they almost had matching coronaries. Scarcely able to contain his glee at having found Fred and Nathan en flagrante, Cory went into the galley where he found a love fest of sorts in progress.
After leaving the lounge, Ray had gone to the Cooks Barracks to check on Randy and Joey. As Chief Cook, and in Chef's absence, he felt it his duty to make sure that the two boys had not come to grief. He was beyond upset when he found their bunks empty. He returned to the galley, not knowing what to do. Should he call Chef? Should he go over to the Guard House and make discreet inquiries. Chef would kill him if anything had happened to the boys.
Ray busied himself as best he could, doing the prep work for the breakfast rush, glancing apprehensively at the clock all the while. By the time the hands of the clock had hit 0600 his fretting had turned to fuming, and then returned to fretting and he had all but decided to call out the Watch when Randy and Joey, freshly showered and dressed in crisp, starched cooks whites came sauntering in chattering a mile a minute. Ray was so relieved that they were safe and sound that he hugged them. Then he got angry with them for not being in their beds and smacked their behinds soundly. Then he felt so bad at hitting them he hugged them again and kissed their cheeks. Now they were happily sitting at the galley table eating pancakes and syrup, laughing and giggling. Cory thought that they had all gone nuts, grabbed one of the thermoses that the YAG crews used when they were called away on SAR duty and went into the dining hall. What he saw there convinced him that the entire Cookery Branch was as mad as a March Hare.
Sandro and Chad were sitting across from one another at one of the mess tables. In front of Chad was a plate piled high with eggs, sausages, bacon, pancakes and hash browns, far more food than he could possibly eat. Sandro was gazing into Chad's broad face. Chad was gazing into Sandro's broad face. Both boys were flushed and had the silliest grins on their faces that Cory had ever seen. As he filled the thermos with coffee Cory heard Sandro urging Chad to eat. Did Chad want something else? There was a galley full of food and Sandro would cook Chad whatever he wanted. Chad demurred. He'd had enough food, thank you. Did Chad want something other than maple syrup for his pancakes? Sandro knew where Chef hid the good stuff, the special preserves and jams and if Chad wanted any of them it would be no trouble. He would get the keys to Dry Stores from Ray. Once again Chad declined. Oblivious to Cory's presence he suddenly leaned forward and placed his lips against Sandro's. Sandro groaned and his hands slid across the table to clutch Chad's. Cory gagged and hurriedly left the Mess Hall, returning to his perch on the Staff Barracks steps.
Cory poured himself a cup of coffee and sat back, inhaling the mind-clearing aroma, sipping the strong brew, enjoying what had always been his most favourite part of the day. He had always been an early riser and his years in the Sea Cadets had, if anything, adjusted his internal clock. Cory was, whether at home, at sea, or at camp, always up before the bugler. He would sit and contemplate the day, enjoying the weather, listening to the critters as they stirred and began their daily routine. Cory watched two squirrels bickering, and then chuckled at the antics of a chipmunk as it foraged for its daily rations in the thick underbrush. It was a beautiful day made more beautiful when Tyler came out of the barracks and sat down beside him.
Cory sighed wistfully as Tyler sat beside him. The Master at Arms was wearing only a pair of very thin tighty-whiteys, which hugged his firm waist and showed off his clean-cut genitals to perfection. Tyler, more than Harry, was the stuff that wet dreams were made of. "You're up early," Cory said to Tyler as he offered him some coffee.
Tyler nodded and refused the coffee. "I didn't sleep all that well," he said.
"Val keep you awake, did he?" asked Cory wickedly.
"Only for a couple of hours," returned Tyler with an evil cackle. "Never, Cory, sleep with an Italian. They are constantly horny, and insatiable."
Cory laughed and said, "Tyler, I promise never to sleep with an Italian." Then he smiled lewdly, his eyes taking in the magnificence of the Master at Arms. "Is a red-headed Scots-Irishman all right?"
"I suppose so," replied Tyler with a straight face. "Mind you, I've never slept with one so I can't really comment."
They sat quietly together until Tyler suddenly put his arm around Cory's shoulder. "I will miss this place, this damned alluring, intoxicating place!" he said fiercely. "I spent half the night tossing and turning, wondering just why the fuck I should feel so damned sad about leaving this ramshackle, dusty, half-broken down collection of sheds inhabited by the sweetest, wackiest bunch of crazies I have ever met!" He squeezed Cory's shoulder. "Every year we've gone away to camp. Every year we've met guys, made new friends and every year as this day approaches all we can think about is going home. All we can think about is getting on the plane, or the bus or the train that will take us home!"
"And now?" asked Cory softly for he was feeling the same feelings that disturbed Tyler.
Tyler shook his head. "Something happened here that I do not understand. I feel as if I'm leaving home, leaving my family, leaving my brothers."
Cory thought a moment. "You're right about something happening this year. Like you I do not understand, really, why we . . . bonded, why we became brothers, why for the first time a disparate group of boys came together and became something special, so special that what happened here will never happen again. I only know that it happened." He gave Tyler's hand a warm pat. "Who am I to explain why? Who am I to ask why you decided to put in for the Master at Arms billet here, instead of in Kingston? Why did I decide to come to camp this year? How can I explain why the guys who are here came to be here? Did the finger of God cross the country, stopping at each cadet corps and point to a special cadet? Did some force that we don't understand, decide that this year there would be a gathering of boys who would bond together, bond so tightly that they will never truly be apart?"
"What about Little Big Man?"
"Every Garden of Eden needs a serpent," replied Cory with a smooth grin. His smile faded and his face softened. "Tyler, there are many things about what happened here that I do not understand. I do not understand why so many imperfect boys, each one like the separate thread of a tapestry, came together here, in this place, at this time, and were woven into one, unbreakable, thing of beauty, something that will never fray, or be taken apart. What I do understand is that we have been moulded, have become a Band of Brothers. That is what I understand."
Tyler nodded. "It could not have happened last year, and it will not happen next year. It will never happen again. Never again will there be a Harry chasing a Cory around the Gunroom and biting him on the butt. There will never be another Two Strokes getting a splinter in his dick and a Cory to take it out." Tyler wondered if ever again there would be bull sessions and sewing sessions with half-naked cadets standing around in their underwear while their fellows sewed and ironed, or boot polishing parties, or all of the hundred, seemingly innocuous, little things that had brought the cadets together. A strange, peaceful feeling came over Tyler. He had been privileged to witness, to be a part of, a unique bonding of boys. "There will never again be a Band of Brothers such as we have now, just as there will only be one golden thread holding our tapestry together," Tyler said quietly.
"Phantom," murmured Cory, his eyes becoming bright. "Phantom."
"Phantom," confirmed Tyler. "If Nigel hadn't assaulted him, there would never have been the sailing trip. We would have stayed ashore and continued along our separate ways. Instead we came together and became that tapestry. If Phantom had not decided to put paid to Little Big Man, and done what he did, I would never have kissed him and in the kissing discovered the true me, my true self."
"Or done the so many other things," said Cory, his voice filled with emotion. You're right. Phantom is the tie that holds us all together. He has made us into that mythical Band of Brothers; we are all of us, you, Todd, Val, Nicholas, Chris, Jon, Harry, we are true brothers. Ray, Kevin, Randy, Joey, they are our brothers. Chef, the Gunner, they are as one with us. Each is a part of the other. We may not understand the why of it, the 'why' we all became the Boys of AURORA, but this I know, that no matter what happens to me, no matter what road I travel down, I will always have a brother with me; in times of trouble, my brothers will stand at my side, as I will stand at theirs. We will never be alone, Tyler, even at the end, for our brothers will be with us. This I believe, Tyler, this I understand."
As the morning progressed the cadets went to breakfast. Andy gathered the Staff Cadets in the Gunroom and held a Pay Parade. Each cadet on staff was paid one hundred dollars, cash money. The other cadets, who were paid nothing, filled in the time as they pleased, finished their packing or loafing about, waiting for the buses that would take them to the airport, or into town. They were going home.
In Barracks 1 the Litany of the Saints were just finishing their packing when Ray, Joey and Randy entered, come to see if there was anything they could do to help. This small gesture of friendship surprised the Litany. Mark expressed the opinion that he, and Matthew, Luke and John, had always felt a little left out of things and thought that Chef, and the other boys did not care for them. Ray shook his head. "You were a part of the galley crew. We never really got to know you guys all that well, but you are, each of you, one of us." He held out a small box. "This is for you from the boys and Chef."
Ray and Joey handed similar boxes to the others. They opened the boxes and found small lapel pins, the AURORA crest. "I don't know what to say," said Mark.
"You don't have to say anything," replied Ray. He held out his hand. "Just come back next year and remember what happened here this year."
Before the Litany could say anything Ray and the boys left the barracks. They had to finish the boxed lunches the cadets would carry with them on their journeys home.
"That was a good idea Randy had, wasn't it, Ray?" asked Joey as they approached the Mess Hall.
Ray nodded. "They're good guys, even though they don't know it yet." He grinned at the two young cadets. "More big brothers maybe?"
Randy shook his head. "Cousins. The Litany is okay as cousins."
In Barracks 2 Rob helped Ryan with the last of his packing. They had not gone to the barbecue, preferring to spend the night together in the barracks, just holding each other. Now Ryan was going home, back to Ottawa. "You have your medicine?" asked Rob as he handed Ryan the last of his gunshirts.
"Yes, mother, I have my medicine," replied Ryan, smiling. "Not that I plan on getting a boner any time soon."
"I worry," returned Rob. "You just lost the last of your stitches and Doc said no excitement for another week."
"Rob, I'm flying White Knuckle Airlines. The Witches of the Air do nothing for me."
Laughing softly at Ryan's unkind reference to the CF flight attendants, Rob buckled his lover's kit bag closed. "You have enough money? I can give you some, if you want."
Ryan raised his hand and stroked Rob's cheek. "All I want is to see you coming off the plane in two weeks."
"I wish I was going with you. I wish . . ."
"You can walk me to the bus," said Ryan quietly. "And I'll be waiting on the tarmac in Ottawa for you."
In Barracks 5 Calvin sat on Simon's bunk, talking quietly as Simon packed his own suitcase. Their time together had been wonderful and now Calvin was afraid that Simon would be gone from his life forever. Simon smiled tenderly at his young lover and tried to convince him that they would be together just as soon as he could arrange it. "Calvin, you are much too impatient. I told you that I'd talk to my parents. It's no big deal." A look of sadness came over his face. "Both my parents work so they probably won't even notice that I'm home until Saturday when I show up for breakfast."
"All the better," Calvin enthused. "Look, I'll telephone my brother. He won't like it, but he'll drive out and pick us up. You can stay at my place for a few days and then we'll go down to Victoria and take the ferry across to Vancouver." Simon shook his head and sat on the bunk beside Calvin. "I can't do that, Calvin. It would not be right, and you know it."
"You don't want to stay with me?" The smile left Calvin's face and his eyes clouded mournfully.
"I do," insisted Simon. He squeezed Calvin's arm and smiled. "I do love you. After last night I couldn't do anything but love you. What we did was wonderful and I want to do it again - with you." He frowned slightly. "But Calvin, I want to think about us, what we have. I need a little time. Things happened so fast between us that I'm just overwhelmed. Please try to understand what I'm saying." "Is . . . is there someone else . . . back home?" asked Calvin, his voice betraying his fear at Simon's answer.
Simon replied softly. "There was a boy. We have never done anything and, to be honest, I doubt we will ever do anything. He's not like you, or me, so no, there is no one at home who could replace you. I just want us both to be sure of what we're doing, and why we're doing it." He looked directly at Calvin, his face hard. "There is also your friend Robby."
Calvin winced at the thought of what he and Robby had been doing together. "I'm sorry about him, Simon. But be fair! I didn't even know you when Robby and I were together. Besides, I told you, Robby was just a fuck. He doesn't love me, and never has. He just wants me when his brother isn't around."
"I understand that, Calvin. I just want to be sure in my own mind that you're serious about us. I want to think about us."
Calvin stood up and picked up Simon's suitcase. "I am serious about us, and you can think all you like about it." He started walking toward the door. "Just you be on the ferry docks when the boat from Nanaimo pulls in on Saturday morning."
"Why would I want to be on the ferry docks on Saturday morning?" asked Simon as he followed Calvin from the barracks.
"Because the first car off is going to be a puke green, rust-pitted 1968 Austin convertible. Behind the wheel will be a big, ugly lug named Mikey. Beside Mikey will be the most handsome boy in your life." He gave Simon a wink and smiled. "I want to be the only boy in your life and I'm going to see you again, Simon," he concluded with confidence.
"Calvin, you wouldn't. What would I tell my parents?" Simon's face grew hard. "And what about Robby Jensen?"
"You can tell your parents that you met me in Comox and I've come to make mad, passionate love to you. Or, you could lie and just tell them that I'm a friend from Comox who came to visit because he and his brother happened to be in Vancouver." He shouldered the suitcase. "As for Robby, I say fuck him, which I've done for the last time.
In Barracks 8 Sandro had taken it upon himself to help Chad pack for his trip home. All around them the gunners were busily packing their gear. Except for Brian, who was staying after all, as his request for an extension of duty had been granted. He would be leaving with the rest of the Staff Cadets at the end of the month. Brian was dressing in his Number 11s when he felt a slight movement behind him. He turned and saw Dylan standing at the end of his bunk. He looked at his former lover. "Dylan," he said in quiet acknowledgement.
"Brian . . . I . . . I want us to be friends," said Dylan pleadingly.
"I thought we were," replied Brian as he buttoned the uniform tunic. He shot his cuffs and looked at Dylan, his eyes soft. "I could have loved you, Dylan."
"Brian, please, we've been all over why we can't be . . ."
Brian grabbed his cap from his locker and pushed past the blond-haired young gunner. "That was your decision, not mine," he growled as he left the barracks.
Dylan hurried after him. "Brian, I can't be what you want me to be," he snapped as he caught up with Brian. "I'm not like you!"
Brian wheeled. "Yes, Dylan, you are. You can't admit it, you won't admit it." He held Dylan's arms tightly. "I'm not mad at you. I'll always love you. I will always be your friend."
"I can't be what you want me to be," repeated Dylan tightly. "I can't!"
"I know that. I am not asking you to be anyone but yourself." Brian shook his head. "Just do not expect things to ever be the same between us. I gave you something I have never given anyone else. I gave you my love."
Dylan angrily shook Brian off. "I'm not queer! I was never queer! What happened was just fooling around." He glared at Brian and hissed, "It's over and it will never happen again."
For what seemed like several long minutes Brian stared at Dylan, carefully choosing the words that might explain his feelings. "It was never a question of your being 'queer'," he began with great emphasis. "It was two people falling in love, in expressing that love. I am not sorry that I fell in love with you, just as I am not sorry that I am queer. Foolishly I thought that you could love me." He shrugged. "You won't because you're not honest enough to admit your true feelings. So be it." He began to walk away then stopped. "You want my friendship, Dylan, but not my love. Did it ever occur to you that friendship is a form of love?"
"No."
"Well, it is. Think about that Dylan. Think about it when you're all alone and the only friend you have in the world is a guy who is queer." He walked on, not waiting for Dylan to reply.
In the Gunroom Two Strokes waited until the others had changed and gone off to breakfast before he approached Cory, who was dawdling and wondering what he would do with himself for the rest of the day. Sean's boat was Ready Duty until the next morning and he could not be too far from the Dockyard, which meant that they would be apart. Resigning himself to a day with Todd and Harry, and maybe Matt, Cory was about to get dressed when he heard Two Strokes call his name. "Aren't you going to breakfast?" he asked the thin cadet, wondering what the strange look on Two Strokes' face meant.
"I need to talk to you," murmured Two Strokes. "I . . . something happened . . . last night I . . ."
Cory gestured for Two Strokes to join him in sitting on his bunk. "Are you in trouble?" he asked solicitously.
Two Strokes laughed. "No, I am not in trouble." He suddenly hugged Cory. "If anything, I think I'm in love."
"WHAT?" yelped Cory.
Two Strokes regarded the shocked look on Cory's face. "I am capable of falling in love, Cory. Last night I think I did!"
"Roger, you fell in love last year and look what happened." Cory shook his head. "I know that at times a guy thinks he's in love, but let's face facts, those girls from the high school, they were only looking for a little fun. I grant you that they were just as horny as you were but I don't think that . . ."
Two Strokes laughed and laughed. Then he grabbed Cory and shook him. "Not with a girl, Cory!"
Cory's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. When he managed to compose himself he gasped, "You fell in love with a guy? You? You fell in love with a guy?"
Two Strokes nodded. "I had sex with a guy last night. We made love on the beach! It was wonderful, it was so fucking wonderful!"
For a moment Cory thought that Two Strokes was going to break into song and do a dance routine around the Gunroom. Fortunately, Two Strokes remained seated. "Roger, you're not gay," Cory said presently. "You might have been horny, and you just clicked with a guy. That's not love."
"I know that!" growled Two Strokes. "And I wasn't horny - well, okay I was - but that's not the way it was." He looked into Cory's eyes and grinned. "What happened was not two horny guys getting it on. It was different."
"You . . . who . . .? asked Cory, unsteady and stunned at Two Strokes' revelation.
Two Strokes told him everything, how he'd been given a blow job, how he had left the beach, how he'd come back into the Gunroom and thought about what had happened and how he had asked the boy to go with him. He told Cory everything but he name of the boy he'd been with. "So you see, Cory, I found out that being with a guy, loving a guy, making love to a guy and having him make love to me, is wonderful. All my life I've listened to people who didn't know what they were talking about."
Cory stared at Two Strokes. "Roger, do you mean to tell me that after one experience you've decided that you're gay?" He screwed up his face. "That just doesn't happen!"
"Well, it did!" insisted Two Strokes stubbornly. "You have to admit that when we were on the sailing trip I did rub against you and I did have sex with you, in a way."
Cory shook his head in wonder. "Two Strokes, I like you. I think the world of you, but we did not have sex! Okay, you rubbed yourself off . . ."
"Twice," reminded Two Strokes. "You have a very smooth butt."
"Two Strokes, you thought I was asleep!" returned Cory, exasperated at Two Strokes' clumsy attempts to express his newfound - and so far as Cory believed - his imagined homosexuality.
"Yeah, I did. But the fact is that I wanted to do it. I knew when I woke up, and found myself up the crack of your ass, that what I was doing was supposed to be wrong. Still, I did it! I also wanted to reach around and hold your dick. Were you hard?"
"Of course I was, you twit!" snapped Cory. "You were rubbing my ass with your dick!"
"And when we kissed, and our dicks touched, did you feel anything?" Two Strokes leaned closer to Cory. "Cory, I felt something that day. I knew then that everything I'd said about you was wrong and everything I thought about me was wrong. For a long time I thought that being gay was horrible, something that couldn't happen to me, something that I could never be. I convinced myself that I like girls. I fucked a girl, and look what happened! That didn't happen last night."
"Two Strokes," began Cory carefully, "One night with another boy does not mean that you're gay. You just do not suddenly turn gay by kissing me, or rubbing your dick against mine!"
"Cory, I understand what you are trying to say," replied Two Strokes serenely. "But it happened. It started on the sailing trip, it continued on when I kissed you, and I finally realized it last night." His eyes softened. "When he first blew me, I was shocked, and very afraid. I lay on the beach afterward, thinking about what had happened and I realized that I liked it, that I wanted to do it again. I wanted to do it again because I wanted to be with him. I asked him to go with me because I wanted to feel him, to taste him, to love him. I wanted all those things and later, after we'd made love, and he was lying with me, as I was holding him in my arms, everything felt so right, so perfect, I knew. I knew then that I was falling in love."
Cory lay back against the bulkhead. "And the other boy?" he asked. "How does he feel about all of this? How can you be sure that he's not another Nathan? How can you be sure that you're not just another fuck in a long line of fucks? How can you be sure . . ."
Thumper, who had been in the heads, heard Cory and Two Strokes talking as he returned to the Gunroom. He stopped in the corridor and listened. He had heard every word that both boys said. He had heard Roger declare his love.
"He can be sure, Cory," Thumper said as he entered the Gunroom and sat down beside Two Strokes. "He can be sure because I'm the other guy."
In the Wardroom Andy sat silently on his bed and watched quietly as Kyle slowly put one more article of clothing in the kit bag. "You don't have to do that, Kyle," he said. Andy would be leaving after lunch, having accepted Mark's offer of a ride back to Seattle and Kyle had insisted on helping him pack.
"I want to," replied Kyle. "I want to get used to doing it for you." He picked up the last article that had been neatly folded on the bed. It was a pair of paisley underpants. He chuckled. "I don't know what I'll hate more, these bloody things or those baggy drawers the Marines issue you."
Andy absorbed what Kyle was saying, and what the implications were. He stood up and reached out to turn his lover around. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"
Kyle smiled and nodded. "I'm in love with a dumb jarhead of a Marine. Where he goes, I go."
"Kyle, I never expected, I hoped, but I never expected you'd want to do this."
"Why? I love you. You love me. You're not happy away from your damned United States Marine Corps. I won't be happy away from you and I won't have a long distance relationship." He hugged Andy and then kissed him deeply. "I've made up my mind."
"It will mean moving a lot, and there will be times when we won't be able to be together," warned Andy. "There will be times when I'll take off and won't be able to tell you where I'm going, or how long I'll be away."
Kyle gave Andy a long, searching look. Then he said, laughing, "Just so long as you remember who's waiting for you and to keep that little Marine dick of yours in your pants!"
Cory knocked softly on the door to the Chiefs Mess. "It's time, gentlemen," he said when the door was opened by Val. Val nodded and, together with Tyler, Mark, Tony and Nathan, left the Staff Barracks and walked slowly toward the Mess Hall where the buses that would carry the departing cadets to the airport were slowly pulling in.
They began to gather, the Boys of AURORA. Some, with kitbags and suitcases, walked toward the waiting buses. They were going home. Others, Senior Cadets for the most part, began assembling on the steps of the Mess Hall. From the Gunroom, from the Chiefs Mess, from the Petty Officers Mess, from the barracks blocks they gathered to say goodbye. By mutual, unspoken agreement, each of the senior cadets had dressed in his best white uniform, with his medals bold on his chest, gold buttons and crowns glistening richly in the morning sunlight. From the galley came The Phantom, Ray and Sandro, resplendent in their whites. Randy and Joey and Kevin, each boy dressed in his best, their white duck bell-bottoms and jumpers crisply starched, their dark blue collars deeply creased.
Together they gathered to say goodbye. They stood in a group, The Phantom, Ray, Joey, Randy, Sandro, Kevin, and the others: Tyler and Val, the Twins, their handsome blue eyes sombre; Brian and Matt, their deep blue rank badges contrasting the startling whiteness of their uniforms; Stuart and Steve, Chris and Jon, Two Strokes and Thumper and Fred, at once embarrassed at being discovered with Nathan, and at the same time elated that he and the American had been together, if only for a brief time. Mike, the Chief PTI and Phillip, called the Assistant, joined their comrades. Greg stood alone in the doorway of the Headquarters Building. Behind the cadets and off to one side stood The Gunner, Doc, and Chef, who was sniffling into a kitchen towel.
"Silly old poop," muttered Doc, who was staying on until the end of the next week.
"Leave him be, Doc," returned The Gunner kindly. "His lambs are going home."
Others gathered at the bottom of the steps: Dave Eddy, No "H", Wally and Sub-Lieutenant Ramseur. They would board the buses also. Their time at AURORA was over and they would act as Escorting Officers, accompanying the cadets as they journeyed across the Dominion.
The Americans, Mark, Tony and Nathan stood to one side. They too were leaving later in the day, returning to Seattle with Andy. Like the Canadian cadets, they were dressed in their best, and not a little sad at having to leave what had become a haven to them.
On the other side of the roadway, opposite to where the buses were parked, was a two-ton panel truck. As the Bandsmen left Barracks 4 they deposited their luggage beside the buses and walked to where the truck was parked. Each boy carried his instrument, or a drum, and began to form up. Harry, resplendent in his Number 11s, his sash a bright, bold slash of colour across his chest, walked from the Gunroom and took up his position in front of the Band. In his left, gauntleted hand, he held the Mace. When the Band was formed Harry raised his right arm and on the down beat the Band began to play softly the soul-stirring, sentimental, traditional song that had sent many a sailor, soldier and airman on the first steps of his journey to foreign fields. As the slow notes of Will Ye No Come Back Again? wafted over the buildings of AURORA, Ray left his mates on the steps and went to Chef, who was weeping openly.
At first Ray said nothing as he wrapped his arms around the portly man and stared adoringly up at the face of his spiritual father. Then he reached up in a gentle, clumsy attempt to brush away Chef's tears. "Don't be sad," he whispered. "They know you love them." Ray suddenly hugged Chef tightly, for he now realised how much he cared for - no . . . loved - this cantankerous, soft-hearted, hard-headed man. Deep within his soul Ray felt an overwhelming love and trust and he raised his flushed face. His eyes were bright with the love he felt as he added, " . . . Papa Chef."
From Barracks 1 the Litany, as always a compact group, walked toward the buses, then stopped. They looked at the small group of senior cadets gathered on the steps, and at the three officers standing behind the cadets. Matthew, Mark, Luke and John downed their kitbags and for the first time realized what they were leaving behind. The four boys, keeping in step with the soulful music of the Band, walked up the steps of the Mess Hall, the gathered cadets parting to make way for them. Silently each boy walked up to Chef.
Ray moved away from Chef and watched as first Matthew, then Mark, then Luke, then John, shook Chef's proffered hand and then hugged him. Chef, the tears still streaming down his face, returned their hugs and patted their butts, murmuring his goodbyes and adjuring the boys to be good.
Luke looked around and saw Joey and Randy standing just inside the door. He waved for them to come over and when they were in front of him he bent down slightly. Both of the younger boys were tearing up and Luke was close to tears himself. "You look after Chef for us, you hear?"
Randy and Joey nodded in unison. Both boys, their eyes filled with tears, did not see the remaining members of the Litany gathering around them. "We've been bad to you two," said Mark, "and that was wrong." He hugged Joey, then Randy. "I'm sorry." He turned and walked toward the bus.
John and Matthew enfolded the two boys in their arms, wordlessly expressing their love for their fellow cadets, then straightened and walked over to where Chef was standing with Ray and saluted.
"Chef, we . . ." began John, his voice tight.
Chef shook his head. "No, lad, no. You were all good boys, the whole of you." He reached out and gently patted first John's cheek, then Matthew's. "Get along now, boys. You don't want to miss your bus."
Both boys nodded and turned to The Phantom. "We admire you," said Matthew. "You were always kind to us and you always tried to make us do the right thing. We could have treated you better."
The Phantom reached out and patted each boy's shoulder. "Chef told you, you were good . . . men. I'm proud to have served with you and I hope one day we'll serve together again."
Luke, who had stood back and waited, said goodbye to Chef and then turned to The Phantom. "You were the best Chief I've ever had. I'm sorry we didn't get to know each other better. I'm sorry for the way we treated Randy and Joey," he said softly. He reached out and hugged The Phantom. "If you ever need the Litany, you call. We'd sail with you to hell and back, Phantom. To hell and back!"
"With you at my side we'd take the place," replied The Phantom as he returned Luke's hug. He pushed the boy gently away. "I'd be proud to sail with you, and Mathew, and Mark, and John. The other cadets might not have said it, but they will sail with you with pride. Remember them as they will remember you." The Phantom nodded toward the buses. "Get along, now."
As the boys walked slowly toward the buses The Gunner leaned down. "Shall we add the Litany to our list?" he asked in a low voice.
The Phantom nodded his concurrence.
Little Big Man walked past, looking straight ahead, ignoring the group gathered on and about the steps of the Mess Hall. He threw his kit bag into the luggage compartment of the bus and boarded, taking a seat at the front, directly behind the driver. He spoke to no one and no one spoke to him.
The older boys left the steps as the Sea Puppies approached, each boy seeming to struggle under the weight of his bag or suitcase, and helped the younger lads stow their luggage. The Phantom saw Simon approaching, with Calvin, and waited as the boy climbed the steps. Simon seemed unable to speak the words of love that filled his heart. He suddenly hugged The Phantom close, so close that The Phantom could feel the boy's heart thumping rhythmically against his chest.
"I love you Phantom," Simon whispered. "Thank you for helping me." He raised his tear-stained face. "I will never forget you."
The Phantom leaned down and kissed Simon's forehead. "And I will never forget you, Simon. Remember this, you will always have a friend in me." He slipped a piece of paper into Simon's hand. "If ever you need me, if ever you need anything, you call, hear?"
"I will," replied Simon with a nod. His gaze slid over to where Calvin was standing. "Will you look after him?"
The Phantom looked at Calvin, who was blushing furiously. "He is special to you?" he asked quietly.
"Very," replied Simon with a shy smile. "More than he knows right now."
"Ah, then we must take care of him for you," said The Phantom, smiling inwardly. He very much doubted that Calvin needed anyone to look after him, but if Simon wished it, it would be done. "If he is special to you, then he is special to me." He held Simon at arm's length. "And who will look after you, Simon?"
Simon shrugged. "Myself, I guess."
The Phantom looked at The Gunner, who nodded slowly. The Phantom returned to Simon. "Calvin is waiting for you. Go along now, and remember, you are not alone."
Simon wiped his dripping nose on the sleeve of his jumper and walked away. Twice, as he and Calvin walked to the bus, he looked back and smiled.
The stewards had waited patiently to one side while Simon said his goodbyes to The Phantom. When they saw Simon boarding the bus they pulled their Chief Steward aside. Kevin had been appointed their spokesman. In his hand he had a small, oblong box. He looked at the other stewards, then at The Phantom. "We got together, Phantom, because we wanted to say thanks for what you did for us," Kevin said slowly.
"I made you work hard," began The Phantom, "and . . ."
Killian, he of the massive eruption last night, shook his head. "You made us your stewards. You showed us a world we never knew existed."
"You trusted us to do everything right, and when we fucked up you showed us the right way to do it," offered Nick.
"You made us into something special," said Chad. "Before we were just dumb gunners. Now we're Stewards!"
"Not just any Stewards," affirmed David. "We're the Stewards of AURORA. Next year there may be stewards, but they'll just be stewards."
"They won't be Phantom trained," said Aaron. "Which means they won't ever be The Stewards of AURORA."
The Phantom laughed at the elitism he had fostered. "They'll be stewards nevertheless, and that will make them special."
"Maybe," agreed Kevin reluctantly. "Still, what you did, what you taught us to be, makes us special and we want you to know that you are special to us." He handed The Phantom the box.
The Phantom opened the box and gasped. He stared at a thin, gold, hunting-case pocket watch, and a long, fine-linked gold chain.
"We heard that you're going to become an officer. You can wear that with your Mess kit," supplied David. "We had it engraved as well."
"This . . . this is too much, guys," stammered The Phantom. He gingerly lifted the watch from its box and opened the front cover. He felt his eyes misting over as he read the inscription: "To Phantom Lascelles, Chief Steward of The Royal Canadian Sea Cadets. From his Stewards, August 1976. Thanks and Fair Winds."
"There's more on the back," said Matt.
The Phantom opened the back cover and saw engraved on the case, in trim, engraver's script, the names of all of the stewards, listing them in strict order of rank and seniority. He smiled through his tears when he saw that Matt, although only an Acting Petty Officer, was listed first as "A/PO2(G) M.A.E. Greene, STWD, Deputy Steward of the Sea Cadets." David, Chad, Billy and Nick were listed as "LS(G), while Kevin and Killian were LSQR. The odd man out, and the only non-gunnery rating was Aaron, who was listed as "LSSG". Each name had the initials "STWD" appended to it.
Thinking of the thought that had gone into the gift, and the cost to each of the stewards, brought a fresh spate of tears. Wordlessly The Gunner handed his handkerchief to The Phantom. "I'm sure that the words of thanks he wants to say will occur to him after you've gone," he said with a slight grin.
Clutching the watch The Phantom embraced each of his stewards. He could not express to them the gratitude he felt for their gesture of love and respect. The stewards understood.
"More names for your list, Gunner," said The Phantom through his sobs. "They are our stewards, after all."
Gradually the stream of boys abated and it was time for the Band to leave. In ones and twos they stopped playing, cased their instruments and put them in the back of the truck. Each boy in turn went to Harry and said his goodbye. The music thinned until only Andre was left, beating the drum accompaniment. He came, finally, to the end of the song and stopped his drumbeat. He looked at his Nicholas, who was standing with the other senior cadets and smiled. After casing his drum and depositing it in the truck Andre turned and went to Harry. He held out his arms, wiggling his fingers, indicating for Harry to bend down. Harry found himself being embraced by the young man. "Au 'voir, cher 'Arry," whispered Andre.
"A Dieu, cher Andre," replied Harry, weeping softy. "Au revoir, mon petit garcon de batteur."
Sean, who had come up from the Dockyard, had been watching and listening while the boys were saying goodbye. When the buses roared into life and began to pull away he turned to Cory and in all seriousness asked, "What has happened here? What made this place so damned . . . wonderful, Cory?"
Cory took Sean's hand in his as he looked over at Todd. A message was passed and Todd asked, "What is it that you don't understand?"
Todd's face was calm, and betrayed the emotion he felt. He was already forming, in his mind, the answer to Sean's question, for he understood what it was that had made this place a special, blessed place, a damned . . . wonderful place.
"It's hard to explain," began Sean slowly, thinking. "We have been going away to these camps for what . . . four years, almost five? We have never got, well, close to each other. I do not mean you and I. For years I have heard what a wonderful experience going to a training camp would be for us, how we would be making friends, forming bonds, that would last a lifetime. What I don't understand is why is this year different? Why not last year, or next year? I see the way the senior cadets interact, the way they look at each other, how they take care of the younger boys. It's almost as if for years there were all these different parts of us - guys, scattered around the country - and then, suddenly, they were all brought together in one place, at one time, and now they are all one."
Tyler understood, and quietly muttered, "The golden thread . . ."
Cory turned to Tyler and nodded as he silently and barely discernibly mouthed, "Phantom."
Reading his brother's lips, Todd nodded in assent and slowly began to quote the classic words penned so long ago:
"This story shall the good man teach his son; And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remember'd, We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he today that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother; be he ne're so vile, This day shall gentle his condition: And gentlemen in England now a-bed Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here And hold their manhoods cheap while any speaks That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day."
As Todd neared the end of his quotation, Sean's eyes scanned the assembled cadets and he nodded slowly. His questions had been answered and now he understood. A short while ago he had been Iron Ass Anders. Last night, in a barracks room where he previously had only been a guest, he had been accepted and welcomed as a messmate. This morning, a morning so filled with emotion, somehow - he did not understand how or why - he had been touched by something . . . magical.
Cory squeezed Sean's hand gently and looked into his lover's eyes, seeing the understanding and deep emotion in them. "Shakespeare said it . . . for us, Sean," he murmured.
Sean's eyes closed as he whispered almost prayerfully, "For all of us, Cory, for all of us."
The Phantom slipped his left arm around The Gunner's waist and rested his right hand on The Gunner's chest. He looked up, his emerald eyes gleaming with the fire of love, and reprised, "We few, we happy few, we band of brothers." The Phantom understood.
They all understood.
The End . . . Or the end of the beginning?