War Letters

Still, there was an upside to this. Until the major returned, Collins was in charge. The major had said nothing to the men about the situation. Collins called them together, including the less-critically wounded, after they had breakfasted and told them that, unless the major returned with contrary orders, they would stay here for at least two more days. He didn't say the timing was established with the consideration that by then there wouldn't be critical wounded still alive who could not travel—but everyone listening to him knew the score.

He continued by saying, though, that the unit would have to be on the move soon. Little evidence of fighting had been heard or seen from the valley in more than twenty-four hours, he was sure that the main vanguard of the U.S. forces would be appearing in the next day or so, and, most telling of all, they would be running out of supplies and couldn't stay here much longer in any event.

The men listened to him intently and none questioned the wisdom or necessity of what he was saying, his spirits were lifted that night to find yet another note in his cave that evening providing affirmation and pledge of support from his not-so-secret supporter. It normally wouldn't mean a great deal to receive support from a private—and one from a medical rather than a combat unit and looking barely old enough to shave—but his eyes had met on several occasions with those of Private Montgomery over the past two days, and an affinity had been established between them. For some reason, Captain Collins found himself very much wanting to know that he had the young, good-looking private's approval.

He was not yet able, however, to consider what might underlay this affinity.

You're the man. I'd follow you anywhere. You were right. It's just about past us now. Soon as we're down to those never going anywhere from here, I'm with you a hundred percent on giving it a go. So's all the other guys. The major doesn't come back, we'll do what you say, no question. Me, especially, whatever you want, whatever you tell me to do. You got it. I'll carry a man and a gun. Just say the word.

You're man,

Private Ben

The next morning, Captain Collins' world changed forever. And it happened in the most unexpected way, blindsiding him, deeply disturbing him, and causing him to brood for some time on his life until now to consider whether there had been any foreshadowing for this life-shattering revelation.

The unit had devised a shower behind some rocks at one edge of the ledge, where a small cascade of water dropped down the side of the mountain. Part of the "on mess duty" units duties was to keep buckets of this water filled, and when the men were able to break away to douse themselves with the ice-cold water, they merely tipped a bucket over their heads, soaped up, rinsed, and used as little water as they could in the process.

When Collins' rounded the corner of the rock-enclosed area, naked, to take a quick dousing, he almost ran into Private Montgomery, who already was there, soaped up. Surprised at the appearance of the captain, the private lost his balance. Collins' caught him, preventing the smaller man from falling to the ground. But the positioning of the captain's arms and hands when he caught the naked private was intimate. He was embracing the privates chest from behind him with one arm, the captain's hand palming the private's pecs. And his other hand was cupping the private's genitals.

All would have been fine, if the captain had let loose of the private as soon as Montgomery had regained his footing. But he didn't. They remained, transfixed, in that position for nearly half a minute—time enough for both of them to start hardening up and for each to know that other was doing so. Collins was trembling. Montgomery let out a low moan, which snapped Collins out of his daze. He turned and fled the shower.

For the rest of the day, he dreaded the knowledge that there would be a note accusing him of what he'd had no knowledge of having any interest in—at least until now. He agonized at the realization that he had meant something to him. That it had started to make some feelings of the past click into place, feeling he didn't know he'd had and didn't want to have.

He avoided Private Montgomery for the rest of the day and wouldn't have known what to say to him if they did encounter each other in private. There certainly was nothing he could say to the young man with others present.

He made it to the night without incident, but, just as he surmised, there was a note under his pillow on his pallet when he retreated to his cave. It wasn't an accusatory note, though. Collins realized that it might have been better if it were. It was a "not to worry" note that left him more disturbed and full of guilty feelings than before.

It's OK, Cap. It's more than OK. It was accidental like. But anything you want. Anything you need. Just ask. And not because you're an officer. Because you're you. You don't even need to ask, know what I mean? We all have needs. I have needs too.

Ben

Benjamin Montgomery's note of conciliation—and hinting of more—could not go unanswered. To talk to him would put it all on some sort of official level. Captain Collins decided he had to write a note of his own, the first one he'd ever written to the private. He agonized over the note, not being able to write what his emotions were telling him he wanted to write—to admit to—which wasn't only that feelings he had for other men were beginning to emerge from him but also that he had specific feelings for, attraction to Private Montgomery. Feelings he should not have, but increasingly couldn't deny.

This had to be nipped in the bud. Montgomery couldn't know how he really was feeling. His note to Ben, delivered by slight of hand in passing the next morning, was meant to apologize for the encounter and assure the private both that it wasn't his fault and that it was an anomaly brought on by the tensions of the war—and not an indication of anything real.

Oh, god, B, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to do that. Just forget I ever touched you like that. I don't know why. I'll be careful not to be showering at the same time again. It's the war, man. I'm not like that. You don't have to tell me it's OK. It isn't.

The note didn't work. Private Montgomery clearly was interested in more contact—and inviting more intimate contact. His answering note clearly opened the door to Collins and caused the captain to retreat to his pallet, pull the cover over himself, and masturbate to gain relief and release the heat of the thoughts that now were racing through his mind. A simple, accidental encounter in the shower had opened a Pandora's box. It had let a genie out of a bottle that Collins didn't seem to be able to bottle up again. And it wasn't being helped by Private Benjamin, who was now giving Collins intimate looks as they crossed paths and was positioning his body provocatively

The note Collins found after the noon mess clearly signaled that the private wanted more from him. And increasingly, Collins wanted to give the small, cute medic more.

I wanted more. There, I said it. But you're so hung, I was scared. And an officer. You haven't done it, ever before? Don't know how you managed Africa and then up from the boot of Italy without it. Or maybe officers can get at the women. Privates like me sure can't. I sure won't say anything to the major or anyone else, and if you're interested, see you at the shower again. If you're not, please just forget that I mentioned it.

B

That night, the private stole into Collins' cave and was naked and creeping under the blanket covering Collins' pallet so silently that Collins thought that he was having a dream—a dream that he couldn't help but having—before he was awake enough to know that he was hard, that Private Montgomery was straddling his hips, and that the private was fisting Collins' cock and sliding his channel down the pole.

Collins lay there, wide eyed and panting heavily as the small, young, incredibly sexy private fucked himself on the cock.

Collins had done nothing to force the encounter, but when, after twenty minutes of groaning sex, they both had come, Collins had done nothing to cut off the encounter either.

His note to the private the next morning was meant to put an end to it, to take all of the blame, but to say that it would be impossible to go on, to follow his acknowledged attraction farther. And in accepting the blame for someone egging the young man on, he as much as told Private Montgomery to turn him in for rape. He was the officer. The responsibility was fully his.

I'm such an animal. How can I ever let you know how sorry I am I lost control like that. Just a fuckin animal. It's all this stuff about whether and when to make a break for it. I just about had all I can of it. I promise I will never again . . . If you want to report me to the major, I wouldn't fault or fight it. Maybe it's just time for me to be put down. This war is hell. It's making a fucking wild animal out of me.

I couldn't say this to your face. You can show this note to the major, if you like. It's all my fault.

Captain Collins

Private Montgomery's answering note, brushed all of Collins' arguments and noble intentions to take full blame and all responsibility aside and pressed on for more attention from Collins, for the captain, the older of the two and the top, to continue and deepen the relationship. When Collins didn't answer that note, Montgomery sent yet another one, beginning Collins to step up to the attraction each undeniably had for the other. The second note was passed by hand, and for the first time the issue was spoken.

"You have fucked me already, Captain. That cat don't go back in the bag. You want me, I know—as much as I want you. It's the war. We both need this. I'm aching for it."

No, don't feel like that, Cap. Don't say anything like that to me. I wanted it. I asked for it. It ain't like you popped my man cherry or anything. My first officer, tho, and I never had it so big. Not your fault. Once I saw you in the shower. . . . Just the way it is out here on the road to Berlin. The tension and the needs. It's not the real world. We all have needs and urges. Me too. Don't take this on yourself. You need it . . . anytime, you got it.

Anytime, anywhere,

B

Anytime you want it, Cap. 'Cause I sure want it. I can't stop think of doing it with you. I have needs too. Couldn't you tell by my moaning as you pushed it up into me and how I clung to you and then begged for it again? You're not taking advantage. You didn't hurt me—in none of the ways. I've done it before. Lots of times. And I can get it. That's not a real problem. But you and me. We're real good together. Real good. I gotta say that if you're really thinking of me, as you say is what's holding you back, you'll fuck me again. We both need it. We both need to feel. You're driving me wild here. I'm aching for it.

Collins came to Ben in the shower. The shower wasn't set up in the last niche in the rocks along the far edge of the ledge. Collins pushed the private beyond the shower, into another niche, and fucked him from behind, standing up, with the smaller man bent over in front of him and grabbing his ankles.

Ben said that wasn't enough for him. Collins admitted that it wasn't enough for him either. They fucked half that night away in Collin's cave, on his pallet, in several different positions, all ones Ben nudged Collins into. It was clear that Ben was the expert here, no novice in any sense of the word. But Collins was a quick learner. The dam had burst. He suddenly knew who he was and what he wanted.

And what he wanted was to fuck Ben silly. It's what Ben wanted too.

The note Ben handed Collins the next morning exuded the glee that he had that, at last, they were fucking with no reservations, no restraints other than keeping it private between the two of them.

Roll me over, Roll me over

Roll me over in the clover

And do it again, do it again!

Ain't much for poetry, and I never thought of that way of it, but that's all I could think of, you fucking me. Us guys are always singing that song—most in a different way. But that's just how I feel with you now. You put me on one high, you did. First time we done it all the way flat out without any guilt or shame—at least for me, and you sure as hell didn't seem to be holding anything back. And then again. I want you to do me again and again and again, Fuck me. Fuck me. There, I said it. War is hell. But it's not that much hell now.

Roll me over . . . BIG SMILE.

Yours

They had one more night together in the caves. They fucked with abandon, with Collins taking complete control, with Ben muttering over and over again, "Fuck me, spike me, screw me, plow me," in joyful celebration that Collins was mining the depths of his channel, both of them spewing cum multiple times.

The last note that Collins received from Ben in the caves celebrated their exuberant coupling with a crude poem that was to become Ben's mantra as the march and fucked across northern Italy and into France.

Fuck, spike, screw, plow,

Do me anyway you like,

Just do me now, now, NOW!

There. Hasn't being royally screwed like that last night made me a much better poet? I know that we can't speak about this in the open. But don't deny me these notes. You don't have to answer if you don't want. You let me know in the night what you're feeling. You came to me for it last night. I am just busting with the want of having your dick inside me. Fucking me, fucking me, fucking me. This war is hell, but you have given me a slice of heaven, a reason to live, to be there on the other side. I live for the nights, of you covering me, and kissing me, and holding me tight. And thrusting inside me. And fucking, fucking, fucking me. God, you are hung.

I know you don't want to talk of love. But if one man could talk of love to another . . .

Yours. Anywhere, anytime.

That morning, Captain Collins marched what remained of the unit, down a fourteen soldiers, including Major Dunlap and the two soldiers he'd taken with him on the reconnaissance mission, out of the caves and down the mountainside. Twice they brushed by near German remnant units but two days later, without firing a shot, Collins delivered all of the men who had come off the mountain with him safely into the hands of U.S. Forces.

The remnants of the 157th, now, with the addition of Captain Collins' men, was gathering north of Rome to prepare for a march through France, toward Berlin. The Germans were on the run back to the homeland. Of the 705 men in the 157th at the first firing of a gun in the battle for Monte Cassino to the day the Captain Collins appeared with his unit, Major Dunlap never being heard from again, there remained 163 men.

On February 24, 1944, Captain Collins was promoted to major and notified that he was being put in for the Silver Star for bringing his unit out substantially intact and saving as many wounded men as he had.

At the end of the ceremony, Private Benjamin, thinking that his ambulance unit might now be split off from the 157th slipped a note of congratulations to Collins, and set up an assignation with the new major in the room assigned to Collins in a small hotel had had been commandeered as an officers' billet.

Congratulations, Major. If anyone deserves it, you do. Bringing all of us out the Monte Cassino caves hell hole alive. I'm so proud of you. But being an even higher muckity muck officer now, does that mean we have to use a rubber? Sorry, that was a joke. But I don't want to use a rubber. The skin of a hard, throbbing cock rubbing me inside. Not just any cock—yours. That's what I want to feel. The heat of it. I guess there would be the pulse of it that I love to try to match even with the rubber. But not the heat and then the filling of me. Your hot jism exploding even deeper inside me—deeper than your big, hard cock can reach. I feel it in my belly. It warms me through the long, wet trod through France. Tried to come with you last night. Almost got there. Maybe tonight?

Tell me that majors still fuck privates. If I've worked it right, you are reading this as you turn in. And are getting hard. For me. If so, I am just back in the shadows. Just put out the light and lay down on your back. I'll give you a blow job worthy of a major and then I'll do the riding.

Love (Yes, there, I've put it out there in the open)

You know who

The fucking, intense and celebratory not only because of Collins' promotion but also from relief that they had made it to U.S. lines and because this was their first lovemaking in a proper bed, went on for hours. Collins was in full control now, taking Ben first doggy style, bent over the side of the bed. After drinking half a bottle of Champagne that Ben had managed to commandeer, Ben lay on his back on the bed, his legs hooked on Collins' hips as, pushing his knees under Ben's buttocks, Collins grabbed Ben by the waist and pulled him on and off the cock. They celebrated their first encounter and Collins' first controlling fuck by fucking in the shower of the adjoining bathroom, Collins standing with his back to the slick tiles of the wall, and Ben plastered to his pelvis, with wrists hooked behind Collins' neck, and Ben placing his feet on the wall in either side of Collins' torso and fucking himself on the cock by leveraging off the wall on the balls of his feet.

One last drunken fuck found them on the floor, Ben on his belly, and Collins riding his buttocks and waving his arms in the air like a rodeo cowboy.

Ben asked for a written note cataloging their evening together, thinking that this might be their last fuck, that they would find themselves in separate units the next morning.

Collins' letter not only celebrated the night, but also expressed the depth of his appreciation for what Ben had given him. It also contained the surprise that they would not be parted—that a major was accorded an orderly and that Collins' request that Ben be assigned to him as his orderly had been granted.

They would march into France together. As an high-ranking officer, Collins would received billeting in a hotel or private home, wherever possible. That the two would march by day by fuck in a private bedroom by night.

War or no war, life was good for the two lovers.

Jesus Christ, that was incredible. We've come a long way, haven't we, B? There is so much I want to do with you, to you. You are the reason I can go on. And it will go better for us, now, I promise. A major scores an orderly. And better billeting along the road. Maybe a private bedroom in a heated house. And an orderly to serve him. Guess who services—opps, I mean serves . . . grin . . . me so well. So, guess who've I've asked to be my orderly.

We mustn't sink too far into this, though. This has got to remain the temporary result of the circumstances of war and men thrown together in worry and danger and not the usual outlets. This is still unusual, unheard of in my family, as I'm sure it is in yours. I have a wife and a child. I love them no less than before this happened.

This must, for both of us, just be to see us through this hell of a war. We can't put too much meaning into this—either one of us. But it's important to me. Now, thanks quite a lot to you, I can see a glimmer of sanity on the other side. Not a life completely like it was before Africa and Anzio and Monte Cassino, and now France. I would never regret this: you, being inside you, the release, the pleasure, the forgetting just for those moments, you lying under me, you giving it to me . . . everything. But this isn't the real world, and aren't we fighting to put the world back on its axis—and on the pedestals that civilized societies create for us to honor? I love my wife. I love my baby son—even though I've never seen him in the flesh. And, yes, I have L for you too, B. But it's a different feeling. It's for here, now. That will have to be enough.