The Halloween Party.
"You shower separately, dress separately, and sleep separately. The brass aren't out of their minds. But you can't stay in a robe and veil. You're in a T-shirt and soaking wet, or rolling in mud. Sure, you've got a bra, but then the sand mites get into it and it feels as though fire ants are dining on your nipples. You don't care WHO is there! You rip off that T-shirt, tear off the bra, and fling it as far as you can. The guys watching? You just grin. We're all buddies, you know?
"Look, I knew I was going to get hit. I always got hit. But in college I had fed'em my tits and they had to be satisfied. At Parris Island, we had hand-to-hand combat and guys would cop a feel. I liked it! Giggled! I was used to that. My boobs were public, but I had an above-the-waist policy like a girl at a Tennessee all-girls school on dating nights.
"I was the 'bitch,' not the 'slut.' The girls that kept taking the pill and going down for one well-hung guy after another, they were the sluts. Christ, I heard them having their orgasms every night-like frogs or crickets, in every dark corner.
"Well, no guys got into the women's dorm. That was off limits. A little dyke activity, girls who found reasons to walk around the dorm bare-ass for hours. I had no problem with them. A couple times, I practiced hand-to-hand on one. I excelled, by the way. That shot to the solar plexus worked on the girls who were so padded with muscle, the only other shot was to the neck, but that's a kill blow.
"Well, let me get to it. Nights we went to mess. Watched some TV, had a soda, laughed it up. Guy and girls. Guys always, I mean always, had some secret hooch. A flask or something. I was dying for it. I sucked it up on the night that basic was over and I knew I was going to be a Marine. I got plastered.
"Going back to the dorm, I had a Marine escort of two noncoms, three recruits, all guys. I felt on top of the world; I had passed. This was the life; I felt strong as an Amazon, I slept good, I ate good, I shitted good. I even felt incredibly clear-headed-most nights, at least.
"Anyway, we were laughing, and someone said, 'Let's take the obstacle course one last time!' They had to have planned it. All the guys immediately cheered. Cake walk! We were Marines!
"I don't know exactly when they hit me. I was taking the course well, breathing hard, of course, in a sweat. One of the guys tackled me, landing right on me, bringing me down, laughing. So was I...at first. But then he's tearing open my belt, dragging down my pants. And I'm laughing hysterically because I'm plastered and I like this guy. But then, wow! Some other guy is flipping me over, unbuttoning my blouse. And another guy has got the bottoms of my pants and he's dragging them off as I'm kicking like mad.
"I was half-laughing, but getting pissed, now. Did I want it, right then? Don't ask. My official mind said, 'No.' And meant it. I knew that five guys, my fellow Marines, were stripping me and probably I was going to be gang raped.
"I've read since that something like one in three female Marines can expect to be raped in her lifetime. One in five women in the population at large. That seems ridiculous. Some Senate committee.
"But right there, on a hot July night in South Carolina, out on the obstacle course in the trampled grass and soft dirt, I almost started to cry. They had everything off but my panties. I was fighting-all the kicks, punches. But they were just laughing at me. They got my panties, sure, held them up and gave the Rebel yell. A real moonlit southern night, and I was rolling in the dirt, bare ass, begging like a baby for my clothes.
Then I thought: "Get out of here! This is a gang bang! I was up, kicking at their nuts, swinging. And they were laughing. So I ran. I mean, this was the obstacle course, so bare-ass in the moonlight I'm going over the rope obstacles, the walls, all of it. And my bare tits and my belly are getting a good scraping. But the guys are right behind, the whole time.
"And suddenly, I realize: They're gett