Mistakes in the Military

By slavesoldier

It’s a little after noon on a hot sunny day and the sun is streaming in through a window above me in the cafeteria. I’m sitting on a bench at a table with a plate of food in front of me waiting for the order to eat. Others are still gathering their food and taking their seats, marching in a prescribed orderly fashion. The food isn’t all that appetizing but I’m starving, it’s been a hard day so far.

Sitting, in this unit, means sitting on the front 2 inches of the bench, feet together flat on the ground with knees at 90 degrees and together. Upper body is erect and rigid with back straight, chest out and stomached sucked in as much as possible. Head is level with eyes staring straight ahead, no expression is allowed. Hands are placed on knees. It’s a position of attention from which no deviation is allowed.

We live by a strict code of discipline and are never without orders or expectations. We are expected to be the absolute best. Best in training, best in physical condition, best in drill and best in appearance so that presumably, we’ll be the best in combat. The consequence for even the slightest mistake can be brutal and the grip that the commander has on this unit means that what happens in the unit stays in the unit. The unit performs, he gets rewarded and we do as ordered. We all genuinely fear this man and wouldn’t dare cross him, even when his methods of enforcing the code of discipline exceed what is authorized by regulation.

A bird lands on the windowsill and instinctively I glance at it. As soon as I do I realize my error and return my gaze straight ahead. My adrenaline starts pumping hoping it wasn’t noticed but it’s too late. He’s already in my face and he’s screaming

“Did you just look outside my window?!”

“Sir, yes sir” I scream back at the top of my lungs.

To lie would be a grave error, and it’s clear that I’m caught. All of the soldiers who were still gathering their lunch have stopped and are now standing at attention.

“Why the fuck were you looking outside my window!”

“Sir, no excuse sir!”

“Did I order you to look outside my window?”

“Sir, no excuse sir!”

A standing order dictates that a soldier is only allowed to give 2 responses when addressed, “yes” and “no excuse” unless otherwise directed.

“Then why the fuck were you looking outside my window?”

“Sir, no excuse sir!”

“Get on the floor, head and toes!”

“Sir, yes sir!”

I rush as fast as I can to assume the position. It’s a stress position that he likes to use because it puts the soldier in an uncomfortable state of active submission, as the soldier effectively punishes himself by his order. The forehead is placed on the ground and the body is bent at a 90-degree angle with only the forehead and toes holding it up. Hands grasp opposite elbows behind the back. It’s painful on the head and neck and after a short amount of time the abs begin to tire. It only takes a couple of minutes in the position to realize you never want to be in that position again… effective punishment.

“Lean back on your feet as far as possible!”

“Sir, yes sir!”

I do as ordered and I know what’s coming.

Whack! He strikes my ass with his baton. It hurts and pushes my stressed body forward painfully.

“I don’t hear you!”

Crap, I forgot, this is one of those times you’re required to give an alternate response.

“Sir, no excuse sir! Sir, one sir!”

Whack!

“Sir, two sir!”

“WRONG!” he shouts

Whack! This one’s harder

“Sir, one sir!”

Whack!

“Sir, two sir!”

Whack! It seems they are all going to be harder now

“Sir, three sir!”

I struggle to maintain the position. Every ounce of instinct makes me want to collapse and protect myself from his baton. But I don’t dare move, things can always get worse and there’s no way of escaping it here. This is the discipline; this is how the unit is kept so elite.

Whack!

“Sir, four sir!”

Whack!

“Sir, five sir!”

“You failed to maintain the level of discipline that I require. You have disobeyed me and you have let down your unit. I demand better, your unit deserves better. You do not deserve to eat with us.”

“Sir, yes sir!”

With that he gives the order for the others to finish gathering meals and when everyone is seated he gives the order to eat. I don’t move. The last order he gave me was to assume this position and it stands until I’m given another. My ass is throbbing from the beating, it’ll be bruised and I’ll be reminded of my failure every time I sit down for several days. My shoulders are starting to hurt and my abs are close to spasm. My forehead is numb. My neck is on fire. I will do better.

 

Metal would like to thank slavesoldier for this story!

 

male corporal discipline

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