JOSEF'S FORGE - 4
Copyright 2006 by Carl Mason with Ed Collins
All rights reserved. Other than downloading one copy for strictly personal enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, except for reviews, without the written permission of the authors. However based on real events and places, "Josef's Forge" is strictly fictional. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. As in real life, however, the sexual themes unfold gradually.
If you would like to read other Mason-Collins stories, please turn to the listing at the end of this chapter. Comments on all stories are appreciated and may be addressed to the authors at carl_mason@comcast.net.
This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between males, both adults and teenagers. As such, it is homoerotic fiction designed for the personal enjoyment of legal, hopefully mature, adults. If you are not of legal age to read such material, if those in power and/or those whom you trust treat it as illegal, or if it would create unresolvable moral dilemmas in your life, please leave. Finally, remember that maturity generally demands that anything other than safe sex is sheer insanity!
CHAPTER 4
(Revisiting Chapter 3)
What countermeasures were open to him? How could he forge a far different outcome? Even though the rations had finally improved, no one could change his or her physical strength overnight. Nor one could acquire a skill overnight, learn Russian immediately, or get used to the horrid Siberian climate. No one could be accepted in a support group such as the Squad without the process taking time. All of these factors would increase the chances for survival - but there was precious little time. One technique, however, COULD be learned: the will to survive. Those determined to survive, and willing to make all the needed adjustments through compromise and adaptation, had a chance to survive if all other factors - luck and skills - were also in their favor. How, Josef thought, could he forge a determination to survive in the four boys whose lives he had accepted as his responsibility?
(Continuing Our Story - Whatever It Takes)
In the hours before dawn, the boys of the Squad stood about before marching into the forest for the new day's work. After a short summer of extreme heat and humidity, they now shivered and stamped their feet in the sudden cold. Their uniforms - so tattered as to show more skin than thin cloth - give them little to no protection. (Many of the prisoners - their skeletal bodies covered with scars and sores - wore nothing other than rags that barely covered their genitals.)
Summer had come and gone so quickly! It had only been a couple of weeks ago that Max - a good man as well as a good soldier - had accidently fallen against a guard, been stripped, and publicly hung crucifixion-style on a pine tree to be fed upon by thousands of fierce mosquitos. Less than an hour later, his waxen body was removed from the tree. He had lost so much blood that he slowly died an excruciating death. Magically, the mosquitos seemed to be gone today - but, then, so was Max.
Death by mosquitos was, of course, not the only torture technique practiced by the guards. With little to no reason, prisoners would find their skulls squeezed within iron rings - or ramrods heated over a primus stove thrust up their anal canal. They were commonly kept from sleeping for a week, beaten to a bloody pulp, forced to stand or kneel upright for up to 48 hours - or to sit on a stool for 6 days while being deprived of water. The training of the blue-capped guards required only a willingness to carry out orders exactly and be impervious to suffering. No limits were placed on their sadism or their greed for power and gain.
Josef's eyes passed over the completed camp - the palisade and the watchtowers surmounted by searchlights, the administration building (including a room for on-duty guards) in front of which stood a large assembly square, the cookhouse, several supply buildings, and the numerous prisoner barracks. When they passed through the gate after roll call, he knew he would see other supply buildings plus the commandant's dwelling, the main guards' barrack, and kennels for the dogs. (The open display of their food bowls - usually filled with raw meat - had to be another act of intentional cruelty.) As a trail from the road neared the gate, there was also a large portrait of Stalin, exhorting the prisoners that "through honest labor lies the road to release". "Little chance," Josef muttered, "that many men would be released from this camp...at least alive!"
On that day, as the work column marched out through the gate, they saw that the bodies of two comrades lay crumpled on the ground. Gone two days, one had been savaged by dogs and both had been shot and displayed as a warning to other prisoners, new and old, that attempts to escape were futile. Escape? Where were two weakened men to go in this raw and brutal wilderness? Were those two days - free but terrorized - worth it? Countless men asked themselves that question - and the answer came neither quickly nor easily.
How the Squad had come to hate the forest! Seven days a week, they faced up to thirteen hours of backbreaking labor with HAND tools - and that didn't count the time needed for the long trek to and from the work area! When quotas weren't met, they were left in the forest til midnight with searchlights. On those days, they got back to camp just before morning in time to eat their meager dinner along with their breakfast and go out into the woods again. If they fell on the way, they were simply shot. No matter... Shipments of new prisoners were constantly arriving. Cut down trees, remove and burn branches and trash, saw up and stack some wood, manhandle the big logs back to the road for trucking to the railhead east of Tyumen... They could take an occasional break, but every minute taken was added to the end of the workday. It was a terrible regimen.
That night, Josef gathered his four Squad members about him. Idly crushing bedbugs, lice, and other vermin, Wolf, Heinz, and Gerd sprawled on the two bottom beds of the rough-hewn triple bunks. Thomas and Josef sat on the floor between the two bunks, tiredly resting their backs against the wooden frames. Josef's chin was thrust out in determination; his eyes literally glowed with passion; his commanding voice belied the exhaustion that he shared with his men. Never had he been more their sergeant!
"Listen, guys, he began, these bastards think that they can strip the humanity from us. They think that they can break our spirit as well as our bodies...that they can mold us into mindless, fearful lumps of flesh that will simply do as they say...that they can separate us until we hate anyone who stands between the prisoner and survival. I tell you that they are wrong! The only force that can cause you to give up is yourself! The only force that can cause you to act like a bastard is yourself! There's more. If we act together...as decent human beings...we can help the other guy to make it - and I'm not just talking about the five of us. We can do whatever it takes to survive as proud, humane men - and, God willing, go home. But we have to stand together - and I can't order you to do that. No one can. I'd rather die here as a man who is free inside himself than go home after having been molded into something that is traitorous to everything in which I believe. I want to go home...sure...but I want to go home with my head held high - and with you. If you haven't figured it out yet, I love you guys. Will you...can you...join me in standing together for something more than fear, hatred, and survival at any cost?"
Josef couldn't see the slow movement, for his eyes were fixed on the floor. He did hear soft sobs as the guys on the beds quietly slid down into the narrow space between the bunks. He did feel their arms...and their wet faces...as they hugged and softly cried together. He knew he didn't have to say anything further.
(New Fish for the Tank)
Within a week, the totally unexpected happened. One day the old order was firmly in control. The next, the starshi Major, his Lieutenants, his medical staff, and many of his guards were swept away. Reasonably trustworthy sources had it that production in the Major's three forest camps had fallen well below that of all similar labor camps in western Siberia. The death rate was so high that needed work could not be completed. He had been "recalled to Moscow" by the NKVD. Several of his Lieutenants, including the head medical officer, had been accused of "sabotaging the war effort," given a field hearing, and executed. Most of the guards had been reassigned; some had been sent to other camps...as prisoners; several had been shot.
The German POWs met their new commandant and his staff on one of the few autumn days in Siberia. The parade ground in front of the administration building was wreathed in fog. Occasionally, a light snow shower briefly swirled across the open ground. Although it was obvious that he held no more love for the Germans than had his predecessor, it was also clear from his crisp military bearing that he had different priorities. Production would increase - of that he left no doubt. Nevertheless, their working conditions would also improve. As long as obedience was instantaneous, they would be treated fairly. Warmer clothing would be provided; medical treatment would be available for those who weren't malingering; food provided for the prisoners would reach their plates. (He didn't say where it had gone previously, but the men knew that every decent bite had been consumed by trustees and guards or stolen to be sold on the black market.) Though it faded quickly as the Major's posture stiffened and he glared at them, an involuntary buzz spread across the prisoner ranks. They were shocked still further when he announced that prisoners would stand down for the day while inspections took place and new procedures were instituted.
When the Squad returned to its barrack, the boys were amazed to find a breakfast consisting of a warm soup thickened with barley (and other vegetation that they couldn't identify) plus a small square of khleb. That night, the same meal was supplemented by a scrap of aged horsemeat (from animals that had died keeping the road passable for the lumber trucks). There was no way that they could chew the unyielding, leather-like flesh, but it was a feast for all of that! During the day, they were visited by a Lieutenant who inspected the building and a medical orderly who checked on the condition of the workforce. Two men were taken to the infirmary (never to return); while they were at work the next day, the building was fumigated. Three great bales of worn but relatively clean winter clothing were also delivered to the barrack. After showering (which involved a naked trek to a nearby building and a necessary break while the men tried to warm themselves around the stove), the clothing was distributed by the sergeants. Those men who still had them were allowed to keep their Wehrmacht caps, but their other tattered, vermin-infested rags were collected and burned. Josef had mixed feelings as he surveyed his Squad. It had been so long since he had been out of uniform. He was actually warm for the first time in a week, but everyone looked so odd...so Russian. Only the looks on their faces and their military bearing said that...somehow...he had gotten through to them. They were still proud men rather than faceless, beaten...prisoners.
In the weeks that followed, additional three-tired bunk units were added to the already crowded barrack. Some of the new prisoners were German POWs, but others were different. For instance, there were civilian prisoners from the westernmost reaches of the Soviet Union - the Baltics (especially Estonia), Byelorussia, and the Ukraine. Gradually, the camp began to take on the appearance of a typical Soviet gulag rather than a POW compound.
Josef was rather taken by some of the newcomers, especially a young "Baltic German" named Erich from the university town of Tartu in Estonia. His whole family had been swept up in the return of the Red Army to Estonia and sent to separate labor camps. His father had been on the faculty of the University of Tartu; his mother was an optometrist; his sister was three years younger than he and still in school. Erich proudly announced that he was a second-year student in foreign languages who spoke several languages fluently, including Russian. When he took the one remaining bed in their two bunk tiers, he was rapidly accepted by the others as one of the Squad. Though the same age as Josef, he hadn't had to suffer the long period of terror and privation experienced by his new friends. His beauty and...freshness invigorated them all. If he had a problem, it was the violent case of hero worship that he developed for "his" sergeant. Josef often found him staring at him with puppy dog eyes filled with awe...and - what was it? - more than a little lust. Josef just grinned and, sometimes, flicked the end of his nose affectionately. Thomas caught one such exchange and smirked lewdly in Josef's direction. Blushing, the sergeant bared his teeth at him in a play snarl and continued with what he was doing. When Josef looked back at Erich, the youngster was as red as a beet...his fingers twisting a loose thread in his shirt.
(Fate Plays a Card)
The "administrative holiday" was soon over and the men returned to the forests. The work was still backbreaking, and the cries of the guards to MOVE IT were, if anything, more insistent. There was, however, a difference. Their rations - such as they were - were on the table every morning and every night. They even received a small chunk of bread at noon. Further, the behavior of the guards was more...professional. (Strange use of the word, but in the context of the gulag it was apt.) True, disobedience or the slightest disrespect brought heavy penalties crashing down on the perpetrator. Nevertheless, the guards rarely went out of their way to terrorize the prisoners. Production climbed.
When Erich joined the work crew on the day following his arrival, he initially threw himself into the logging with everything he had. Unlike the earlier incident with the young Germans in their 20s, however, the entire Squad - led by Gerd and Wolf who threw their arms around his shoulders and talked with him like loving Dutch uncles - immediately calmed him down. For all of that, Erich had it bad! He couldn't keep his eyes off Josef. Further, when they worked together on a task such as lifting a heavy log, Erich's body was usually as much in contact with his sergeant's as with the log! Even when he was white with fatigue in the early days, however, there was nothing that he wouldn't do to raise the spirits of his new friends - and they responded in kind.
On a particularly nasty windswept day filled with swirling snow showers and steadily dropping temperatures, Josef decided that he had to take a short lunch break - even though he would have to pay back the minutes at the end of the workday. (It had been a hard morning wherein many of the young men had to strap themselves into harnesses and drag heavy logs to the trucks.) Erich was by his side in a flash. When they had collected their bread ration, he grabbed Josef's arm, saying that he had found a nice place to eat in peace. (The guards allowed this. Where were the prisoners to go?) After a three or four minute walk in an area that hadn't been heavily logged, the boy led him to the entrance of a cave that was hidden by brush and trees in a short ravine. Once inside out of the wind, they found it to be almost warm and felt...safe.
As the boys sprawled comfortably on the floor of the cave, munching their bread and joking about their morning "oxen duty", Erich looked up at his hero and said, "You don't hate anyone, do you, Josef?" "Not often... takes too much energy" came the reply. "You love every guy in the Squad, don't you?" "Yep, guess I do," Josef grunted. Erich persisted: "If I showed you something really disgusting about me, would you hate me and, maybe, kick me out of the Squad?" Josef rose on one elbow and looked deeply into the bright blue eyes of the youngster. Reaching up, he brushed the soft blond hair that had yet to be shorn out of his eyes. "Show me," the sergeant commanded. "You're safe; you're with friends." With that, Erich inhaled, slid over a bit, and kissed his hero passionately. As Josef withdrew from the youngster's fear-stricken face, the boy's first convulsive sob was cut short by kisses that rained down on every part of his face and neck. Barely a moment passed before they were naked, Erich's body resting full length on top of Josef's, their rock-hard cocks dueling as their sweaty bodies glided over each other in rising passion. It was over almost before it began. Josef lay exhausted, knowing that he had never cum as hard or in such quantity. The cum-splattered blond puppy from Estland [German: Estonia] was curled up beside him, his head pressed against Josef's upper chest, his lips making little noises against his sergeant's neck.
Suddenly, perhaps due to a shadow, Josef looked up. Standing in the entrance to the little cave, Josef saw Heinz, the tears streaming down the redhead's face. Josef looked down into Erich's face, his question unspoken but clear. The lad, who had also spied Heinz, smiled softly and nodded. The sergeant grinned and motioned for Heinz to join them. He had to repeat the gesture - this time a bit more assertively - before Heinz approached. Reassured by the warmth of their welcome, it didn't take additional coaxing for him to lose his clothes and join them in a tight hug. Though he was as hard as steel, he was also as embarrassed as all hell and didn't seem to have Idea One about how to proceed. Erich did! Rolling over, he lifted himself over the rail-thin youngster whose most prominent feature at that point was his enormously long, albeit thin, cock. Swooping down, he vacuumed Heinz's prong into his mouth and throat without stopping until his nose was buried in the boy's curly red pubes. Josef immediately began to do his duty, wildly kissing the redhead's face and torso...sucking and nibbling on his stiffening nipples. Heinz was in heaven! His twitching body writhed in every direction, moans and strange sounds pouring from his open mouth. All too soon, his body stiffened and arched high off the floor. With a cry of exaltation, he provided Erich with more protein than he had probably enjoyed for days! Breaking into wild sobs, he threw his arms around his two comrades, kissing each in turn. Josef hated to break up the joyous scene, but he knew that they'd have an hour of hard labor to repay before they'd ever see the barracks again. The smiling, happy kids, their arms around each other, quickly made their way back to the work area. Seeing them coming, Thomas smiled to himself, albeit a little sadly. He never let them know he had seen them.
The afternoon was another period of hard, filthy, painful work. A backlog of logs had built up and had to be moved to the trucks that awaited them. Nearly 50 prisoners, Josef and friends included, were ordered to don the harnesses and put their backs into it. Each log had to be pulled over a half mile across rough ground. It was actually the Squad that finally managed to drag the last log to the truck park. Trying to catch their breath, they sat crumpled on the ground, watching several guards supervise the hoisting of the logs onto the flatbed trucks. The final truck was already fully loaded when they arrived, but the head guard insisted that their log be added. That was a mistake - and the guards paid dearly for it! When their log was added to the pile, the load suddenly became unstable. Before everything could be chained down, the heavy timbers began to roll off the truck. One guard was crushed...undoubtedly killed instantly. Two others were trapped amidst the fallen logs. A giant timber still on the truck was swaying ominously. If it gave way, the remaining logs would surely roll down onto those that were trapping the two men, erasing their lives.
The large group of prisoners sat and stood as if frozen to the ground. Several had ugly smirks on their faces as they contemplated the sweet revenge that seemed about to take place. Josef suddenly glanced at his buddies - and took off running for the truck, his Squad members at his heels. The guards were too far into shock to react. Climbing up on the lumber truck, they stabilized the log that was threatening to topple and got a chain around it. Once it was secure, they climbed down and approached the jumbled logs that trapped the two young guards who were sobbing and white-faced with fear. At this point, the guards recovered and, along with the Squad and several of the other prisoners, freed the trapped boys. The leg of one was pretty well torn up and bleeding heavily, but they got the bleeding stopped. The other youngster came out of his brush with death with little more than heavy scratches and a few abrasions. As an empty truck approached, the head guard sent the prisoners who hadn't been involved in the rescue back into the forest. He then ordered the two guards - and the body of the dead boy - lifted onto the truck. The Squad and the few other prisoners who had belatedly helped were told to climb aboard. They left immediately for the camp.
(To Be Continued)
DATES OF LAST POSTING IN NIFTY
Archived in Gay/Historical Unless Otherwise Noted
OUT OF THE RUBBLE (32 Chapters): 10-22-04. CASTLE MARGARETHEN (9 Cs): 12-24-04. THE PRIEST & THE PAUPER (12 Cs): 3-10-05. HIGH PLAINS DOCTOR (12 Cs): 4-25-05. FOR GOD AND COUNTRY (9 Cs): 6-13-05. HOBO TEEN (12 Cs): 8-23-06. YOUNG JEREMY TAYLOR (9 Cs): 9-25-06 (posted in Sci-Fi/Fantasy). STREETS OF NEW YORK (10 Cs): 12-06-06. JOSEF'S FORGE (10 Cs): Posting.