Worst day, best day: Day hot as f…k. Twenty mile circuitous route, full gear, but we got
Worst day, best day: Day hot as f…k. Twenty mile circuitous route, full gear, but we got to the position according to timetable. Just. And then it was all round defence and I found myself on sentry. The worst stag - start two hours before dawn. Sarge Buckley said, “They will try to take this position”. Reading this, you’ll say “Just an exercise. Reservists playing soldiers” But we’re a good unit. We don’t just play. I tried to explain to Susie but she had set her heart on the weekend. We talked all night til I felt sick an she wouldn’t even say “Goodbye” in the way I liked. And I was sitting, knowing I must be on watch but angry with her, and thinking about her body, when they grabbed me.Combat glove over my mouth and jerked off my feet and I was face down in the mud trying to scream out to the guys. Then the thump on the back of my neck and I almost threw up and one of them stuffed a ball of stuff in my open mouth while I felt tightness round my wrists and, weird, a game I sometimes played with Susie flashed into my mind. But it was no game.….I said I would take out the sentry no problem. I’d practised it off duty, crawling through mud, imagining the moment when I would take down some dumb young squaddie and have him hogtied. And gagged. So tight. And there the guy was, his rifle half on the floor, half asleep. Nice, sleepy face. But big shoulders. Might be the sort who woke up sudden and would lash out.So silent, careful, combat gloves on, watching the earth for anything which could make a sound. And my mate Blale. Just as quiet behind me. Just as deadly, I thought. We practised, one on one, again and again, and the one of us who got taken down by the other was tied and made to suffer. Like this one would suffer.Then my gloved hand was over the sentry’s mouth and he sort of squealed. And I felt a thrill as he squealed and I swung him down, face down, and thumped his neck and stuffed a bandana in his gaping mouth and then fixed him up good an tight with another bandana. The sergeant and others were moving up. The sentry boy bucked and I said “Me and Blale better fix him. He’s a fighter.” And sarge sort of smiled and said “I bet.” Blale had fixed the guy’s wrists and got one end of the paracord round his throat and back down to his wrists again. I pulled up the lad’s ankles against his glutes and Blale got the cord round his boots twice or more and knotted him up like a package. The poor lad was breathing hard and his heart was pumping like a steam engine. He was still trying to struggle and his face was red and his muscles straining under his t-shirt. I fetched out more paracord from my pocket and started on his elbows, pulling them to an inch from each other. A length of cord against big gym-muscles? No contest. Not if I’m using the cord. The poor lad’s glutes twitched. And sort of pumped. Gross-out tries at maybe words came through the gag from his back-throat. “Shh sonny” I said, and he sort of sobbed. And Blale laughed. I looked into the lad’s face. He was on the point of tears.In the distance pandemonium broke loose. -- source link
#combat bondage#captured