The Gunshot

This is a fictional short story and a little out of my comfort zone.

.....

Kelly's ears were ringing from the gunshot. Calmly, astride him on the mattress on which she'd forced him to lay, she looked down. His eyes were staring, lifeless. The blood pouring into his mouth and overspilling down his neck onto the concrete had stopped. There was no heartbeat. She left the pistol in his mouth. When the semi-automatic had re-cocked itself, the foresight had knocked out his two front teeth, one of which was lying on her thigh. Careful not to fire the gun again, she wrapped his fingers around the grip and put his index finger through the trigger guard.

Satisfied, she stood and brushed off the tooth to join his other one on his chest. She was in no rush. They were in the target store, part of the twenty-five-metre indoor range. No-one would be running in response; the range was largely soundproofed. There was no need to wipe her prints. As duty student for the day, it was part of her job to be there. A lack of her prints would have been suspicious.

After a final check around, she strode across the camp to the armoury. As well as being a rapist, Sergeant Everson was a lazy bastard. After a recruit live firing, he'd fire off two magazines himself then hand his pistol to the duty student for cleaning and return to the armoury. Unless, like today, he had another range session after lunch.

When Everson had thrown the old mattress on the floor and began to undress, she'd quietly loaded and cocked his pistol. "Come on," he'd shouted over his shoulder, "You wanna pass this course don't you? Get your tight cunt over here, I'm already hard and I'm gonna..." He stopped when he felt the pistol pressed against the back of his skull.

.....

"Just yours?" said Corporal Watkins, the armourer, sliding Kelly's weapon card across to her.

"Yes, Corporal," she said, "He's got Squad Eight after lunch."

"Aye, well, get yourself away for some scran, lassie," he said in his broad Glaswegian accent. She did, via the barrack block where she showered, changed and put her combats into the washing machine in the laundry room.

Lunch in the cookhouse was followed by foot drill on the parade square. Ten minutes in, all hell broke loose. Sirens, military police landrovers, the ambulance from the medical centre. Shortly after, a runner sprinted across the square to the RSM. After a brief conversation he handed the squad over to the drill sergeant who marched them off to the NAAFI.

The camp went into lockdown and they stayed in the NAAFI drinking tea and playing pool. Mid-afternoon the guard commander came in and called Kelly's name. She'd been expecting it. "Yes Sergeant?" she said.

"Double yourself over to the BTO's office."

She arrived breathless. Captain Rogers, the Basic Training Officer was behind his desk, flanked by two men in suits. She halted and saluted saying, "Private Webb, sir."

He nodded and said, "At ease, Webb. This is Sergeant Smith and Corporal Whitehouse from the RMP Special Investigation Branch. They have some questions for you."

"Me sir?" she said.

"Maybe if we could use a classroom, sir?" said Smith, "This isn't an interrogation."

Captain Rogers stood and said, "Yes, of course, they're all free, we've suspended training for the day. We can use the one next door."

Rogers went to rise but Smith said, "Thank you sir, well let you know when we've finished."

"I feel I should be present," said Rogers.

"Standard procedure sir, we want Webb to feel that she can talk freely."

Rogers harrumphed but backed down.

They sat at a table and Corporal Whitehouse took notes. "So," said Smith, "We're investigating an incident earlier today. I understand that you are duty student for your squad?"

"Yes sergeant," she said.

"This is just a chat, you don't have to call me sergeant every time you speak. Can you talk me through what happened at the range this morning?"

"Happened? Well, I signed out the keys for the indoor range from the guardroom at about ten-thirty, then joined the rest of the squad at the armoury to draw weapons. Nine millimetre pistols. Sergeant Everson was already there. He handed two full ammo boxes to Privates O'Connor and Davies then marched us to the indoor range. I unlocked, turned on the lights and the extractor fans, and brought the targets out from the target store."

"Just you?"

"Yes, it's the duty student's job."

"You'd done it before?"

"Um, duty student or fetching the targets?"

"Both."

"There are only twelve of us in the squad so duty student comes around every twelve days or so. The range duties I've done once before though but I think this is our sixth session there. Everything tends to blend together when you're a recruit."

"Then what happened?"

"Sergeant Everson ran a refresher on the pistol; NSPs - load, unload, make safe, stoppage drills, the usual stuff. Then he issued ammunition and we loaded our magazines. In groups of three we went through various practices at varying ranges. We finished about twelve."

"Then what?"

"Sergeant Everson took a formal verbal range declaration from everyone and sent the squad back to the accommodation block to clean their weapons."

"What did you do?"

"I put the targets away then asked Sergeant Everson if he needed me to clean his pistol."

"He had a pistol?"

"He always took one to practices and fired off some rounds when we finished."

"And he made a recruit clean it?"

"Yes, and return it to the armoury."

"Did you think that was odd?"

"We all did. I mean, he constantly banged on about us being responsible for our weapons but made us clean his."

"Did you complain about it?"

"No, but Private Tanner did the first time it happened, but Everson told him to shut the fuck up. He was the sergeant so we just did it."

"So you cleaned his pistol."

"No, he said to just unload it and pull the barrel through as he had Squad Eight after lunch."

"His pistol was loaded?"

"Not with live rounds, just an empty magazine."

"So he hadn't fully unloaded it?"

"No, he never does, not with us anyway. He usually fires off two magazines then puts the weapon down with the empty mag on and the slide locked back. Someone once asked him why he did that. I mean, it's goes against the Normal Safety Precautions. He said it's to test the Duty Student on the correct procedure for picking up a weapon in an unknown state."

Smith glanced at Whitehouse and said, "And what happened next?"

"Is he in trouble?"

"Just answer the questions please."

"Okay, um, I unloaded it, stripped it, pulled the barrel through twice, reassembled it and put it on the table with the magazine. There's a workbench in the corner. He told me to sit there and clean my pistol."

"What did he do?"

"Poured himself a drink from a flask, coffee I think, and watched me."

"Did he talk to you?"

"Not much. Asked if I had a boyfriend. Mostly just watched. He seemed angry about something so I kept quiet."

"Did he mention his wife?"

"No, but there are rumours that she'd left him."

"Anything else he said?"

"Can't think of anything else, he mostly watched me."

"Did you notice a mattress in the corner?"

"Behind some sandbags? Yeah, it's always there. Someone said he slept on it sometimes, after a heavy session in the sergeant's mess. Can't remember who said it."

"How would you assess Sergeant Emerson? Did you like him?"

Kelly looked awkward and said, "I'm just a recruit, I don't think..."

"It's just us here, you can talk freely."

"Well..., no, I didn't like him, no-one did, you can ask anyone. He was rude, spiteful and hated female recruits. He said we were only good for one thing. Our squad is four females, eight guys. Emma Scott got highest score today but he still said she was useless. Sorry, but you did ask."

"That's okay, we're looking for honesty. Now, did Sergeant Emerson ever act inappropriately towards you?"

"Not really, but one of the other girls said..."

"I'll be speaking to them, I want to know about you. You said, not really. What happened?"

"First time I was duty student in the range. I was putting the targets away when I knocked some over. I was bending down to pick them up and he said, "God, I could fuck that ass."

"Did you report it?"

She shrugged and said, "Private against a Sergeant and no witnesses? He'd have just made my life hell."

"So when you'd finished cleaning your pistol?"

"He told me to fuck off to the armoury."

"I see."

"I went outside, walked to the armoury and handed in my pistol and magazines."

"When you were walking, did you hear a gunshot?"

"A gunshot? From where?"

"The range."

"No, it's pretty much soundproofed and there was a Chinook coming in." Then she looked shocked and said, "Wait, oh my god, a gunshot? You don't mean...?"

Smith nodded and said, "Yes, I'm afraid so. That'll do for now, we may have more questions later. We'll get what you've said typed up and then, probably tomorrow, get you to read it and sign it as a statement. What's your pistol number?"

"Um, thirty-seven, God, this is horrible," she said, "Did he have children?"

"Two. Thank you, Private Webb. You may go to your accommodation block, but not to the NAAFI."

Being the first back at the block, Kelly laid on her bed in panties and sports bra, grinning. Fuck you, Emerson, she thought, you won't be sticking your unwelcome dick into any other recruits. Hands behind her head, she closed her eyes and let her mind wander.

Three weeks earlier, they'd left camp on an Army truck for a four-day patrol exercise in the Welsh hills. It poured with rain. On day two, Kelly lost her footing climbing over a barbed wire fence and fell into a water-filled ditch. Drenched, freezing and bordering on hypothermia, she was sent with Sergeant Emerson back to the instructor's base in a farmhouse. Typical, they lived in the warm and dry while the recruits suffered. "Get yerself upstairs, ya useless bint, get warm in the shower then into some dry uniform. Your spare gear is bagged in your pack, is it?"

Shivering, she nodded and carried her pack upstairs. The hot water was luxury after two days of washing in icy streams. Closing her eyes, she let the spray engulf her face and pour down her body. Last night, in the darkness of a makeshift patrol base behind an old dry-stone wall, she'd wanked off Kenny - Private Evans. Her first cock and it had felt wonderful in her hand. Even better was when he shot his load into the bracken. It had proved to her that she was attractive and could turn a guy on. In fact, he'd called her a hot chick.

Perhaps tonight, if they could get alone again, she'd let him play with her tits. Kenny was definitely the best of the guys - good looking, funny and smart. The thought made her hand drift down to her slit.

"I can do that for you," said Emerson's voice.

She whirled and covered her breasts and vagina. He was in the doorway, naked with an erection. "What the fuck?" she shouted.

"Come here, and that's an order," he growled.

Sergeant or not, she screamed, "Get the fuck out of here!"

He grabbed her arm and dragged her, dripping, kicking and screaming into a large room with four beds. Each had an old mattress, on which lay an unrolled green Army sleeping bag. It was obviously where the instructors slept. Roughly he pushed her onto one of the beds saying, "No use yelling, there's no-one for miles apart from sheep."

"You're insane, you'll go to prison."

"Really? The word of a silly recruit against a Sergeant? A holder of the Queen's Gallantry Medal? Don't think so cupcake. Now suck my cock."

"Fuck off."

"Do it!"

"No, I like big cocks not that pissy little thing." She hit a nerve. Erect, it looked to be about four inches long if that, and maybe an inch across. The slap to the side of her head came from nowhere, sending her sprawling backwards and making her eyes water. Instantly, he was on her, pinning her down with his forearm across her throat. He was twice her size and she knew that fighting back would be hopeless.

Not the way she'd planned on losing her virginity but at least she'd hardly feel his pathetic excuse for a cock. Nevertheless, she could humiliate him. "What's the matter," she struggled to say against his arm, "Can't get a girl the normal way, pencil dick?"

The punch to her stomach drove the air and the fight out of her. As she gasped for air, he pushed her legs back and forced his way in. Distracted by the punch, she didn't even notice her hymen give way. As her fucked her and she recovered, she regarded him impassively. He got faster, using short little strokes. A minute later, he fell forward, spittle dripping from his mouth onto her shoulder. He appeared to have orgasmed but she felt nothing. While he ejaculated, she raked his back with her nails and tugged at his hair. All good DNA evidence for the Military Police.

He stood by the bed looking pleased with himself. "Is that it?" said Kelly with a laugh, "Hardly worth the fucking effort."

The punch to her groin sent waves of pain through her body making her scream and curl up. At the doorway, he looked back, spat towards her and said, "Get your shit together and double back to the squad."

"It's miles," groaned Kelly.

"Warm you up then won't it. Move yourself, cunt."

Charming, thought Kelly as she struggled to stand. Emerson kept his word and made her double the four miles carrying a rifle and wearing battle order. She was fitter than most but the abuse had weakened her, causing her to vomit twice. Behind, Emerson blew the horn of the Landrover. Despite the pain and exhaustion, she had time to think. She should report the rape to the other instructors. Emerson was not only a rapist but a stupid one. There was DNA evidence under her fingernails, possibly even strands of hair, plus his semen in her vagina. Despite the pain, that made her grin - probably no more than half a teaspoon. Yeah, he'd go to jail. Maybe six or eight years? But he'd be out in three or four. Free to rape again or possibly even kill. No, there had to be a better solution. There was.

Kelly was called, along with others, to give evidence to both the Army's board of enquiry and the Coroner's Inquest. She stuck to her account and others confirmed much of what she had said. Further evidence was presented by Scenes of Crimes experts, medics, police, Emerson's wife and Captain Rogers. The verdict? Suicide while the balance of his mind was disturbed due to marital breakup, alcohol abuse and gambling debts. When Kelly heard the news on BFBS - the forces radio station - she was drinking a beer on a beach in Cyprus, her first posting.

.....

This is not a true story. It is based on a misogynistic bully of a Sergeant I had the displeasure of encountering during my two years in the UOTC - University Officer Training Corps. I hated him with a worrying intensity. I've no idea if he had a small cock, though thinking he did, helped me to withstand his verbal abuse. He was actually later court martialled, reduced to the ranks and dishonourably discharged for selling stolen military clothing at car-boot sales.