“Shit, man, we covered that three weeks ago!” someone else says. “Seriously, I could fuck a chick in the middle of that section and not even get dirty doing it!”
“That's because the only girl you fuck is Rosy Palm,” someone replies, earning laughs. Okay, so cadets aren't exactly the most politically correct group of people, especially if it's an all-male group. Most of us are young, come from 'old fashioned' backgrounds, and there are more than a few good ol' boys in the Corps. I wouldn't trust my sister around most of the Corps. If I had a sister.
“Cut the chatter,” the detail leader says, and we quiet down some. “Either way, Sergeant Major wants that section done, so we'll work it for five hours.”
We get down to Flirtation Walk, officially the only point on post where cadets are allowed to engage in public displays of affection, a roughly half-mile dirt trail that gives you a view of the Hudson River, and make a quick ad-hoc formation around the arch at the trailhead. “Okay, groups of three or four, fan out and keep busy!” the leader says. “If Sergeant Major comes down here and sees us fucking off, none of us are getting credit for these hours.”
Great idea, but after an hour, I'm understanding the earlier joker's comment about Flirty being clean. With only cadets and their guests allowed to use the trail, there isn't a lot of stuff around to police up. After about two or three attempts at just walking the trail and picking up trash or tossing sticks out of the way, the leader, feeling the threat of losing his credit, loses it. “Fine, fuck it! Pick up the waste wood and pile it at the arch, along with any other trash!”
“How big of wood are you talking here?” someone asks, and he gives us the finger. “Ah, bigger than that. Gotcha.”
I wander back onto the trail, and soon enough, I find something worth venting my frustration on. A downed tree, obviously not waste wood, but a tree a good four inches around and maybe twenty feet long, lies in the bed of leaves that makes up the sides of the trail. I look around and see Will Washington, one of my classmates, and call him over. “Whaddya say, man?”
“Fuck it. He wants wood, I'll give him wood,” Will says, laughing. “Speaking of which, you should have seen the woodbringer that I saw yesterday.”
“Woodbringer?” I ask, and Will nods. “What's a woodbringer?”
“You know, hottie, piece of ass, get my drift?” he says, laughing. “Anyway, I was up by the PX after class, picking up some protein powder. And man, this PFC I saw . . . holy shit, the ass on this girl!”
“Nice?” I ask, thinking that there's no way that Will's PFC has anything on Lindsey.
“Fuck yea!” Will says. We take a grip on two of the bigger branches still sticking out from the trunk and lift, grunting a little. It's not that heavy, but it is awkward, the weight's just a bit off. “Tell you what, I'd think of giving up cadet status and enlisting if I thought I could have that honey blonde hair on my pillow at night.”
“So you got spank bank material?” I tease, and Will laughs as we start down the trail toward the arch. We both know the rule. The enlisted are off limits by the USCC rules, and all the officers are senior in rank to you. Either you play within the gray lines—there are some good looking female cadets—or you go outside the service. Just the way it is. “Well, she got a name?”
“Let me think . . .” Will says, his voice drifting off as he tries to find the answer. I can't help it, I laugh. “What?”
“You’re all hard up for this girl,” I say, setting the tree down and adjusting my grip before lifting again, “and you don't even have a name?”
“What the fuck are you two doing?” the detail leader says. He's talking with the Sergeant Major, and I can tell he's pissed. He thinks he's going to get his bonus hours, and we maybe fucked up his game. The Sergeant Major looks amused, and he raises an eyebrow behind his old-fashioned big ass rectangular glasses. “Seriously?”
“You told us to bring the trash wood up to the arch.” We drag the tree out of the arch and dump it onto the pile of waste wood that's been growing. “So, we brought some.”
“What the hell am I supposed to do with a fucking tree?” he asks, and I shrug.
“Don't know. We just brought the wood as ordered.”
He looks like he's about to rip into our asses, but the Sergeant Major speaks up. “Okay, you two, carry on. And try to keep the wood to under body-length from now on.”
Will and I nod. As we leave, the Sergeant Major speaks up, loud enough that we can overhear. “Learning point. Soldiers who feel like they're getting jerked around are going to find ways to stretch your orders to piss you off or amuse themselves. Sometimes both. Now, where are you going to get the handsaws to chop that thing up?”
Will and I keep it together until we round the curve of the trail before laughing. He offers me a fist, and we bump knuckles. “That was fun. Better stay away from the firstie, though.”