SemperFi

I needed money for med school, so ... I joined the Navy and ended up a Corpsman because I thought it would be safe ... on the ship. At least, that's the line the guy in classification sold me. It was after Basic Training that I learned that Navy Corpsman were in big demand -- in the Marine Corps! When I found out -- I set aside a special bullet for that guy in classification - reserved for his jaw (just in one side and out the other if my aim was good) - in case he ever met up with me again.

I was a tough guy. Had learned to be. Spent my entire life stuff'n my feel'ns down inside me. Maybe I joined the military because down deep I had a death wish and the VC would be happy to oblige. I dunno.

Like I said, I was a tough guy - School football and tough talk...you know. Not much got under my skin - except when I stumbled upon someone in a helpless situation. Even as a kid, I was always rescuing the baby birds that fell from the nest. I rescued a young fox that had been grazed by a car and I even rescued a black racer (snake) that had been beat over the head on a golf course. Passers-by thought I was kinda strange - with birds that would land on my shoulder and help themselves to whatever I was eating, - foxes (Ok there was only 1 - but strangers didn't know that) that would come out of the woods and hop up into my lap ... and then there was the 7' snake that always seemed to be coiled around my arm or neck - just watching. I didn't even want 'pets' ... never even had a dog. It was fate ... I couldn't stand by and let the helpless rot. I felt this deep seated compulsion to help give them a fighting chance. As a side effect, I got loved back by the most unlikely candidates.

Billy was never gonna send up any rockets. So, in 1969 - he joined the Marine Corps. Billy must have listened to the same guy in classification that I did. That guy could sell snow to Eskimos. The last place on the planet Billy belonged was in the Marines.

I met Billy after being assigned quarters on the ship - the U.S.S. |EDITED|. On a ship where men were packed like sardines - Billy and I were to bunk together in a room just off from an infirmary (this might be OK after-all). The CO had him classified as an equipment transport specialist and it was my equipment he was going to help transport. At first, the entire thing seemed odd and completely outside of regulations as it was explained to me. Then I met Billy. At 6'3", he stood 1" taller than me. He had one of the largest yet leanest physiques I'd ever seen. And out of that body came one of the kindest, gentlest voices I'd ever heard. Billy had not been well educated and his IQ may have been 70 from my first impression. He was big, friendly and handsome - and seemed as dumb as a box of rocks.

Shortly after meeting Billy, I met with the CO and asked him how 'someone like Billy" had made it thru Basic. My CO was understanding of my question and took some time to show me Billy's file. Billy excelled in everything that required eye-hand coordination. His marksmanship on the range was one of the highest scores to ever hit the boot-camp. His problem was in verbal communication and understanding nuances. His literacy scores were way under standard, but when all the scores were combined, Billy had passed by 1 point in the percentile ranks despite horrible written test results. The CO said it was a tough situation because the service wasn't gonna make an exception. He had decided to put Billy with me because of my psychological temperament eval, - and the fact I should have a hand to carry the amount of equipment I'd have. They were short on Corpsman and the ones they had - needed to carry more supplies. He also explained that Billy was honest to a fault -- even naive and because of that, he didn't fare well with the street-smart social-totem-pole carvers who should have had the decency to live up to the nickname "buddies" - but didn't. And, because I was packing narcotics and needed someone I could trust... He needed to say no more. Our CO turned out to be a guy who had a brain and a heart.

I got back to quarters. Billy turned and smiled as I entered. "I got my stuff unpacked and put where it goes; -- so I did your stuff too - but not your private stuff", - he said is a gentle and simple sentence. I glanced at my packs. My toiletries were still in their sack. Sure enough, my clothes were where they needed to be and repacked extremely neatly in the small drawers and cabinets. I'd never seen more efficient use of space. I looked at Billy - who was standing there with a look on his face as if he was awaiting validation or a scolding. I smiled and put a hand on Billy's shoulder. "Billy, this is amazing. I can never seem to figure out how to arrange my stuff so it all fits right. This is great. Thanks!". As I spoke, a wide, perfect smile slowly grew on his face. As I watched his emotions go from neutral - to happy, over such a simple word of praise - I suddenly realized that, standing before me ... was the biggest baby-bird I had ever been tasked with helping learn to fly.

I made friendly talk to Billy and told him how the CO had said he was really good with shooting and mechanical stuff. He lit up as I told him about this good evaluation. I made an attempt to lower my vocabulary to that of a 5th grader (I had 3 cousins back home who were in 4th, 5th and 6th grade and I was their favorite cousin due to fact that - not only did I let them get away with murder ... - but it was usually my plan they were carrying out 'the hit' with;-) "Adolescent" was a language I spoke fluently.

Billy opened up and over the next hour told me about the farm he grew up on and some of his 'goals'. (I told him I'd help him on some of those later on. He seemed appreciative.) While we talked, he'd occasionally stop me and ask what a certain word I'd used meant. I never disrespected his question and explained the word as best as I could in "adolescent dialect". Billy never asked me the meaning of the same word twice.

Because his hair was buzzed so short, I noticed 2 fine lines on his left side over his ear. I asked him where he got that. He said that he thought he got them in the hospital. I asked why. He said he woke up there once with a bandage on his head. He was in the barn one minute -- and then in the hospital the next. He said they told him his step father gave him 'blunt trauma" - but he was only 7 when it all happened and didn't remember getting anything that day from his step father. His step father moved away after that and another man who his mom didn't marry moved in and he made Billy work all the time -- even when school was in session. He explained that he joined the Marines to get away from all the bad stuff at home. I wondered if he had been told about the "bad stuff" we were headed for. I sat down beside him and looked more carefully at the scar on his head. It looked like it may have been caused by a hammer claw that slid along the outside of his scalp instead of digging in after the blow was struck. The run of the scar covered the area over the left hemisphere that was related to speech and writing (they knew this from the lobotomy experiments on people in the 1950's). I had a flash of insight. If Billy's step father had struck him with a hammer-thingy - hospitalizing him at the tender age of 7 -- the blow may have damaged just the part of his brain used in reading, speaking, etc. This might mean that his disability was more localized - than general overall mental incapacity. "You know Billy...", I spoke. "I think there's a lot more to you than meets the eye." He stared at me blankly ... but because I was grinning ... he soon smiled too. I looked at the clock and realized I needed to get cleaned up before bed. I pulled some clean clothes out of my drawers - giving Billy a thumbs-up while I did it. I was on my way to the showers when I realized that the infirmary we were next to had a lab shower. I backed up and looked again - hot water too!

Billy looked and grinned - but looked a little serious too. "I'm glad...", he said "because now they won't be able to steal my clothes anymore."

"Right on!", I encouraged, but deep inside I began to realize that not everyone had the same empathy for Billy that I did. Some were obviously outright cruel. But, I'd be watching now...

Billy was neat and clean - almost to a fault. Even when we hit land and were in the field - he was the cleanest Marine around and he'd shown me a half-dozen ways to use rain water and a few drops of bleach or iodine to clean up myself and clothes so as to 'not get sick'. He'd actually studied the field manual - despite his hard time reading. It sounds kind of minor -- until you realize that Billy and I didn't catch one bout of rash, rot or fungus while on tour! Getting back to the ship was always a welcome occurrence - that didn't 'occurrence' nearly enough. I learned that Billy often didn't get social cues when spoken, so I learned to be a little slap-stick around him. We got to the point as friends that sometimes, one of us would push the other into a wall or something and then stand there with a devilish grin. This meant "sparring time". Billy and I practiced our combat training with each other a lot. It often ended up mutating into a bad version of professional wrestling - complete with fake punches and parading around the room with each other over our shoulders. When it went that way though ... Billy usually was declared the unofficial winner. Besides ... I'd get laughing and then become defenseless.

I won't sicken you with the details of being a field medic. There's plenty of documentary about that these days. War is hell and the one person who made that hell bearable for me - was Billy. We saw things that men should never see. I lost count of the number of times that Billy saved my life and me his. The first time it happened, 'CHARLIE' threw a grenade into the tent. It landed on the metal table directly in front of Billy. He was in full gear and wearing his/our backpack full of supplies. I was standing behind him - just barely off to his left and he spotted the grenade, - as it hit the table and stopped - rolling up against a pack of gauze. Billy turned back-to it and wrapped both arms around me tucking in his head. The next moment, I was on the ground with Billy on top of me. I was shaken, but instinctively, I ran my hands along Billy's back, neck and head -- looking for injury. I couldn't find a scratch as I noticed his deep breathing from the feel of his ribcage and belly moving while he rested on top of me. "How do you feel?", I softly spoke. I waited for a reply before moving.

"OK ... I guess...", Billy replied back in his deep gentle voice. "My ears are ringing awful bad though."

I shot off a 1-second, ultra-sincere thank-you prayer to God. "Before you move, Billy, I want you to make sure you can feel your legs, arms, fingers and toes and that there isn't any bad pain when you move them a little ...ok...", I instructed him. He gently test-moved each limb and when he got to his right leg, he winced.

I twisted so I could feel down the back of his leg. There was a rip in the fabric of his pants, but the area around the wound was fairly dry. "Feels like you took light shrapnel - not serious. Lay still until they get this tent off us, ok?" I could hear voices nearby shouting orders about the tent and getting inside. Someone kept yelling to turn the generator off. "Tell ya what. Let me help you get what's left of the backpack off ya...", I suggested. I put my hands up over Billy's shoulders and pushed the straps back. It moved off with amazing ease. "Better?", I asked.

I brought both of my arms around Billy's back and gently hugged him. "You know ... I think you saved my life today.", I spoke. Billy was silent. "I realize now that if I had died, you wouldn't have ever known how much I luv ya and that you are to me - just like if we were family.", I continued. I could hear Billy swallow hard - his face beside mine. "You've gotta promise me Billy that you'll watch out for yourself too; -- Because I'd rather live with pain in my body, - then live with the pain of losing you. Understand?"

Billy was quiet, but brought both of his huge arms in around me. With his face pressed to mine, I felt hot tears streaming down his cheek. His breathing became punctuated with sporadic tensing of his diaphragm as he choked out muffled sobs. See, Billy didn't think anyone would ever love him. He thought he was "too dumb to love". He thought that when people treated him kindly that they just did it so as to not get in trouble -- not because they actually liked him. I was different. He knew we were 'friends'. Now he knew we were 'best friends'. I cuddled him and slow rubbed his wide back and big neck. When I began to lightly scratch his scalp, he began to vocalize little moans. A couple of minutes into it, his breathing was much deeper and relaxed as finally his whole body began to lightly twitch as he fell asleep! Asleep, after being knocked down by a grenade! Asleep, with a tent on top of him! Asleep with shrapnel in his leg! (Later I asked him how he could fall asleep under those conditions. Billy replied that, "He knew he was safe in my hug and he felt loved, - and nothing else seemed to matter more than that.")

They finally got the tent off us. The generator had been feeding live wires that had collapsed on top of the tent when it went down. If we had been moving around under it, we may have been electrocuted because of all the metal framing, tubes and surfaces that were part of a medical set up. I was awake when they lifted the tent, but feigned unconsciousness. Billy was unconscious - still sleeping on top of me in my cuddle. The guys actually had a couple of body bags prepared and were in awe that we were practically unscathed. I commented that the bag looked uncomfortable and I'd prefer a stretcher if they didn't mind. That comment broke the tension with some well needed laughter. The pack Billy had been wearing had taken the impact and had literally been blown apart. There was a piece of narrow surgical steel embedded about an inch in his right hamstring and he was bruised all over his back side. I was there when the shrapnel was removed - and I insisted it be kept. (Today, I have it framed). Billy got 30 days R&R because of it and so did I (shell-shock ya know). The CO made it all go smoothly. Billy was also written up for commendations and a metal. He deserved both.

The day after the explosion, we were back on the ship. Billy was very sore. Since I'd met him, I'd thought that he was one of the most beautiful men I'd ever known - on the inside as well as externally. But, in the military, it's not usually acceptable to express such feelings. I'd already felt what it was like to hug him - to have him on top of me. They never did catch the guy who threw that grenade and in a way, I was glad. Billy was so sore he moved about like an old man, so I found some petroleum jelly in the medicine room and sat down beside him on his rack, and began to slowly rub him down. As I worked him over, he'd gradually kick off articles of clothing. Eventually he was in his military whites and I shut the light off. Sitting back down beside him, I began to stroke low on his strong back and eventually onto his upper glutes - pushing the shorts down as I went. Billy simply groaned lightly in appreciation of the feeling. Soon, I slid his shorts off him as he lifted his legs to let them pass. I told him to turn over and worked from his feet up. Billy was a man-container of raw sex appeal and had no idea how good look'n he was. When I massaged his feet, he was between heaven and hell as the parts of the massage the didn't roll his eyes back in his head - tickled him causing him to clench his teeth in muted laughter and wiggle his toes when it would hit him just right. I worked my way up his legs and mentioned when I got to his nude waistline (and saw his 4 inches of flaccid manhood) that he was a very handsome guy and probably had to fend the women off with a club. He grinned a big, handsome stupid grin and said nobody had ever said he was handsome 'down there' before. I began to massage his abs - and like his feet - he was bearing being tickled because the massage-part felt so good. I got up to his chest and then arms and neck. When I did his scalp - out he went. As he was asleep, in the dim light I looked over the body of the most beautiful, trusting friend I'd ever had. I had his head cradled in my right hand as I leaned over and planted a firm dry kiss right on the bridge of his perfect nose. Billy opened his eyes and slowly smiled as he saw mine. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me back - right on the bridge of the nose. "I love you more than anybody in the whole world.", he whispered. I swallowed hard as tears filled my eyes.

Billy grinned and pulled me closer for another kiss on the nose. I cracked a wide smile and kissed his again. His smiling eyes moved across my face and he got 'that private serious look' he gets when he's about to ask me a question he'd be embarrassed to ask someone else. "I was wondering...", he started. I locked my gaze with his to let him know he had my attention. He continued, "What does it mean when you think about someone a lot and when you do, you think about being close to them and it feels really good ... down in your pants ... and, and - it feels so good you don't wanna stop thinking those thoughts?"

I swallowed hard and smiled. "Well, it often means that you want to be close to the person you're thinking about and make love with them.", I replied.

Billy thought to himself for a few seconds - rolling the language over in his mind. "That sounds nice ... to make even more love...", he replied. Billy glanced away and then back as his expression got more serious. "Would you want to help me make some more love - for us both?", - he asked is a the warmest, most innocent tone I've ever burned into my memory. I thought about the military - the 'rules' and how men were expected to act. I also considered the endless slurs I heard daily about the 'whores in town' and how most men seemed preoccupied with a cheap phuck - rather than sincerely "making love". I was at the same time concerned for Billy - because he obviously hadn't made the connection between the term "homosexual" and what he was feeling for me. I don't think I've ever known a more beautiful human being. How could such a simple, wonderful question be so complicated! I thought hard to work an answer that was win/win and would protect him from insults, the cruel statements of 3rd parties, and a court-marshal!

"I'd love - to make love with you Billy...", I began, "but you have to swear me an oath that you will never tell another person about us - ever.". Billy shook his head, 'YES'. "It's because this is such a private thing...", I continued. "Lots of people would say bad things because they don't understand love...real love Understand?" Billy kept his serious look as he shook his head 'YES', again. With that, I kissed him on the nose.

In the ambient light, I could see Billy's eyes feel my image as I shed my clothes. His cock began to visibly inflate - but I wasn't preoccupied with that. I sat down beside him and swung my legs up beside him as I hooked my right arm underneath his torso. His breathing was faster and he was shaking a little. I told him it was OK to feel a little nervous and we were just gonna cuddle - like we did after the grenade went off -- but this time we'd get to feel each other's skin - all over. Billy nodded and as I smiled at him, he relaxed some and smiled back. I rolled him toward me and his warm erection docked up beside mine as his chest pressed into mine. "My gun feels really good...", Billy whispered - talking about his cock in military terms.

I smiled. "Have you ever made love before, Billy?", I whispered. He shook his head 'no'. "You've never had a girlfriend or ... someone like me?", I asked. He shook his head 'no' again. "Well, your gun feels good because that's where men shoot the love they make out of...", I whispered in a grin. Billy knew I was speaking figuratively from my grin. "Mine feels pretty darn good too - here beside your's...', I assured him. "Let's just cuddle here - close - until they shoot, ok?". Billy nodded.

Billy and I cuddled together -- arms and legs intertwined - occasionally twitching and softly groaning as our dicks began to explain to each other how we deeply felt toward in each others close company. His responses were so spontaneous and honest as he'd whisper soft sexy moans every time the muscles in the base of his balls would stiffen some. He didn't last very long - and neither did I up against the strong naked sexual power of Billy's virile body. Of course, he was feeling the same thing about hugging against me. Billy began to groan and his glutes began to crawl around hardening and relaxing his buttocks as he reached ejaculatory inevitability. His eyebrows came together some and his face showed that intense male rapture'd expression as orgasm introduced itself with the feeling of his prostate squeezing it's payload into Billy's 'gun' for firing. I lightly kissed his big straining neck as he whispered through clenching teeth, "I love you soooooooo muchhhhhhh", - with a thick hot shot of Billy-sauce hitting my belly moments later. That was it ... I was instantly in 'return-fire-mode' as I shot back with a groan and as I hugged his stiffening body tighter, "You too, Billy ... I love you tooooo". And I did...

Our guns exchanged a lot of fire that night. We each ended up surrendering to the other. Billy said he wanted to make as much love as we could "because he loved me so much (and it felt so good making it...)". How can you not love honesty and innocence like that? Billy's responses were so genuine and the effects of his orgasm were so intense on him that he got lost in the moment as he came. With Billy, the whole process was a mystery, - and his emotions and fullness of his love were indeed focused thru his penis as he emptied his balls through sweat and strain. I don't know that I'd ever met a more emotionally open guy - especially as he ejaculated. In his mind, he was indeed "making more love" and it bonded him emotionally to me as he gave what he'd made to me, - and me to him.

I was so glad that we were on leave -- because we got almost no sleep that night. Unlike most men, Billy had never known about jack'n and had never had a tight

friendship to even talk about it. It turned out that he'd had one other person who he'd known as a kid who was into "lifting weights to look good" - as he explained. Apparently, he'd encouraged Billy to "lift weights and stuff" too. Billy never had any dumbbells, so he used to find equipment around the farm that he could do slow reps with. He really seemed to have an eye for what muscle groups got benefit from what and this explained his astonishing physique. He'd simply wanted to "look like his friend" - whom he'd kept a picture of since he was a kid. He showed me the black'n white photo and told me that his "friend" (named George) worked in a big gym somewhere in a city called "LA". Billy had, by sheer incidence, touched on the phenomena called "body-building" and didn't even know it. The picture of George was that of a good look'n dude - but I was a bit concerned that Billy kept the photo of a nude stud in his wallet. He said that nobody had ever seen it -- except his step father when he was 7 - right before he went away. I suspected I knew what it was that resulted in Billy getting hospitalized. Simply because he had a deep appreciation of the male physique - some idiot who had no right being a step-father (or a father in any other capacity) had tried to hurt him - simply because Billy had found a 'role-model' who happened to be a liberal in a time where male nudity was virtually unheard of. Besides being honest to a fault, - Billy was also just a little bit ahead of his time. Looking at the picture of George and then at Billy's naked bod beside me -- I commented that, "I'd like to meet George someday and thank him for encouraging you to get so handsome." Billy grinned and blushed - and then pushed a couple of tears away from his eyes as I hugged him.

Billy's hands began to crawl around on my body - duplicating the massage I'd given him. Except, he'd occasionally plant a gentle kiss randomly on my bod as those powerful hands of his crushed the tension out of me. As he went, he commented that he liked the way I looked when I moved one way or another - just in regular life doing Marine/Navy things. He said that my upper body had developed quite a bit since carrying those packs around and that he thought the way my legs moved and flexed under my shorts looked really good and made him want to make more love - but he'd always been too shy to say anything about all that before now. I told Billy again that we needed to be very private about our friendship and that when he wanted to make some love that he tell me something like he "needed to clean his gun barrel". Billy got the joke and began to chuckle. As he thought about it, he laughed harder from deep down inside. Seeing him happy made me feel really good. Love rocks...

Billy and I were soon both promoted in rank at the exact same time. Our CO knew that as a team, we were a matched pair. Billy got his medal and with it - a public ceremony and a wave of well deserved respect. Those who were still with us who had tormented Billy in boot camp suddenly were given a heads'-up and were now expected to salute in his presence. I could tell that the promotion really stuck in the craw of some of the guys, but a few began to treat Billy kindly and with that came a well needed boost to his self-esteem.

When I had first met Billy, I'd judged him from the externals of 1st impression. Billy had a disability - true, but I had seriously underestimated the man. He was assigned as a pack-carrier and equipment packer. That was his assignment, because the CO didn't expect that Billy could do much more. Nobody in Billy's life had ever expected that he 'could do more' - which is why he hadn't. But, I loved Billy - which means I took an extreme interest in him and watched him in order to know him on an intimate level. When Billy gave me the massage - he had duplicated - almost perfectly the nuances of my movements on him (plus some improvised kisses). I remembered that fact. Later on that week, I showed Billy how to use a suture on leather. I asked him to do the stitches I'd just shown him. He was a little bit slower -- but absolutely flawless in his execution. We spent some time in the library and I showed him certain field medical procedures using the pictures in the books and explaining to him in very simple language why certain things were done and in what order. As long as I used pictures to illustrate - he understood. Over time, what I showed Billy became reality for the men who WE saved in the field. Although he could not have hoped to pass a written Corpsman's exam, - Billy learned everything I showed him and his precision and speed surpassed mine as time progressed. Billy was a Corpsman without the paperwork and what went on between his ears as he reasoned things out was virtually genius in many circumstances. There was indeed much more to Billy than met the eye. As I complimented and encouraged -- he got the boost to self esteem and confidence he'd never had anyone give him. As a result, he flourished. In 6 months time, Billy often filled in the gap in the field caused by only (1) of me. He knew that he was my "Equipment-Man" first, but he also knew that "Whenever he could lend a hand, I hoped he would."

9 months into combat, Billy and I were chosen to be part of an assault deep in CHARLIE'S heart. To this day, I don't know if it's been declassified - because of how we were transported. We found ourselves on the perimeter of a nameless town and soon we were crawling around in a series of underground tunnels - shallow and just below the surface. Billy and I were waiting in a part of the tunnel dug a little deeper and widened out. We had a small battery powered lamp there and we were waiting for the fighting to get underway before doing what we did. Occasionally, we could hear footsteps on the earth above us. Then, some dirt fell from the tunnel top and a pair of legs dropped through - followed by the waistline of a VC soldier. The soldier's shirt caught on a root in the tunnel roof pulling it out of his pants and revealing a tight muscular belly and a strong body that was very lean and obviously part of a young Asian man - maybe just teen. Billy and I stood out of his kicking range as he struggled to climb out of the hole. He didn't utter a sound other than some straining grunts - probably so as to not alert the enemy as to his position. He struggled for 30-45 seconds and we realized a few things. First, he must be alone up above because nobody was helping him out of the hole, And secondly: He must not realize that there were Americans in the hole he had fallen into or he'd be more panicked and yelling. Billy had a panic'd look on his face as I drew my knife from its sheath. Billy shook his head 'no' and took a needle full of anesthetic from the bag. He pointed at the heaving belly of the VC soldier and then made a bear-hug motion - holding up the needle. I got the message and took the needle from Billy. He got close in behind the torso of the dangling VC and when he saw his abs get tighter as he exhaled, Billy put the squeeze on him. It was so hard that the frightened VC let out a little squeak, but couldn't inhale any air in order to shout. I came in behind Billy with the needle and gave our captured VC a shot in the butt strong enough to knock down a gorilla. Billy held him firmly as he frantically struggled. 10 seconds turned into 15 and we noticed his legs moving less. At about 20 seconds, the VC soldier was a rag doll and Billy relaxed his grip some and pulled him into the hole. His shirt stuck to the roof and came off as his limp body came down. Billy - exhausted from holding his squeeze on the VC sat down still holding the VC soldier in his arms. I sat down beside Billy and helped him take stock of our "POW". He was breathing and his pulse was strong and visible in his neck. Billy cradled his VC head and turned his face toward the dim light. He was a very handsome Asian probably 14-15 years old with a medium frame covered with strong - wiry muscles. His pants were too big - obviously not issued to him originally, and one of his oversized boots had fallen off while he was struggling - exposing a bare foot - soft except from a few calluses from the oversized boot's rubbing. Billy's big gentle eyes looked over the boy-man he held so helplessly in his arms. Billy whispered, "He's so beautiful...", and then glancing at the knife - resting unsheathed on the floor, continued with tears welling up in his eyes, "and we almost killed him... almost...".... Billy buried his face in the chest of the boy he pulled tightly to himself as he sobbed powerful, muffled tears of pain that so described this "pretend-war" in Vietnam. In his arms he held a priceless package of humanity -- somebody's hopes and dreams -- somebody's little-boy-becoming-a-man. Billy saw the value despite the poverty, the uneven haircut and foreign culture. Billy saw an innocent weapon - a boy forced to fight by an unethical system that accused strangers without proof and brainwashed the young to hate without reason. And we both knew, that in a way -- this is what boot-camp had done to us too - took our empathy - so that we could unsheathe the knife or pull the trigger.

"He's OK Billy ... we did the right thing...", I assured him - wiping the tears from my eyes too. "He's gonna be OK, Billy.".

Billy bit his lower lip some to stop it's quivering and then with his left hand - he reached around my back and pulled me close. "Thank you so much for loving me and being my friend...", Billy started, "-because if I wasn't a corpsman's helper -- I'd be out shooting boys like him, and, .. and I don't even know why...". Billy buried his head again as the tears flowed.

I reached back around Billy and hugged him. "I love you brother. Don't you ever stop having a heart and never stop telling the truth like you see it!" Billy looked up at me with eyes full of hurt and questions. "Billy, we probably saved this little VC's life tonight. He's a POW now and we treat our POW's good. You saved him."

Billy was rolling my words over in his head. He looked at me and then down at the VC in his arms. We moved him over into the edge of the tunnel out of the way as he was unconscious and would be for some time. Billy propped up his head with the shirt he pulled from the cave roof-near the hole. "Welcome to freedom little CHARLIE...", Billy whispered near the VC boy-man as he planted a kiss on his forehead. Standing up and smiling at me, he planted a kiss on my forehead too.

"Boom! The sound of weapons fire sounded in the distance. Billy and I moved to position. The raid was on. It was a real fire fight. It was the most severe battle we'd been in yet. Napalm was dropped and had the wind not shifted 10 seconds before it hit, we'd probably all had been fried by our own side. Billy and I crawled from man to man - doing what we could to prep for evac. There were so many casualties that we were out straight and Billy was in unofficial 'corpsman mode'. When he got to our CO, he stopped the bleeding and clamped an arterial tear. He didn't give a second thought who it was as his eyes caught every detail and by his actions, paved the way for a brighter future. Our CO was in and out of consciousness during the triage Billy gave him and he knew who it was attending him... but was he dreaming ... Billy?

We prevailed in the mission. When the fighting was over and we were e-vac'd, - Billy was carrying a pack on one shoulder, and a shirtless, shoeless 14 year-old (barely) VC POW on the other. Men in the huey kept looking at Billy and the VC he was carrying and shaking their heads. Billy got him to the MASH and explained the situation. The boy-man awoke a day later and after much torture with cake and ice-cream, decided that his enemy was too strong and divulged his secrets. Billy's 'pet VC' soon got the attention of 3 Generals. It turned out, his 'secrets' were just a bit credible...and described a massive plan of attack on South Vietnam. Billy's VC described classified documents and exposed the fact that there were spies in high places in the south. For the first time in a long time -- our government discussed leaving rather than suffer the losses of a full-scale invasion as described. Billy's VC helped speed up general thoughts of leaving the country. How many lives his act of compassion saved -- I suppose we have no way of ever knowing.

Ten days later, I was summoned to a private meeting with our CO (who was feeling quite a bit better).

He asked me if it was "possible" that Billy had been the one to do certain acts on the battlefield -- like clamp bleeders and administer IVs. I swallowed hard and said that "I supposed anything was possible ...". I was then asked if it was possible that Billy might be up to taking a 1-on-1, verbal exam for position of Corpsman. Again, I said that "I supposed anything was possible...". Our CO shook his head and smiled. Then I added ... "But, Billy can't know he's being 'tested'. Tests psyche him out. He's gotta think the questions are being given in 'fun' or as a refresher". Our CO understood - knowing Billy. "Make it so...", was his last order before dismissing me. I found 3 other Corpsman and bribed them each with $75 bucks if I could have 2 hours of their time drilling Billy in a "game" called "Corpsman". The CO was going to watch - hidden and the questions had to be verbal - not written and the material had to cover everything. 3 days later, Billy and I had 3 visitors. Our CO was watching from somewhere (I never found out where). We kept the tone fun and friendly and just a little bit cocky - like Billy and I had something to prove to 3 'doubters'. It worked. All 3 corpsman were floored that BILLY knew the answers and the techniques. He aced it! A week later, it was official: Billy was a certified Corpsman. Man, did we make lots of extra love that weekend...You could say the experience left a good taste in my mouth...overall...

Yes, Billy and I lived to see the war's end. We both moved to Los Angeles, and I got to thank "George" in person. He even remembered who Billy was! Billy and I started an emergency ambulance business and the ideas about triage and doctor assistance by radio were quickly catching on. A few years later, Johnny Gage and Roy DeSoto became household names as "EMERGENCY" aired on TV - showing the progress in emergency services from the battlefield to civilian affairs. Billy and I were both paramedics when the classification became available. Some of you may have met us in person if you were unlucky enough ;-)

We're still together. Sure, the pecs aren't as big and we use a little purple pill from time to time to pump up the love equipment better; -- But the thing on the inside -- who we are - that thing doesn't age. I'm writing because Billy and I watched it all - from Stonewall to "Don't Ask, Don't Tell". We had to tell our story because like so many here, we were shocked and offended by the way that anal-sex & a shallow-phuck mentality entrenched themselves into society's thinking about gay men. For years, we'd be frank and tell people -- yes, we're 'gay', but we don't play in sh1t (ours or anyone else's)! We've watched anal fetishes kill several friends and you never get over the pain of the loss - especially when it's so meaningless. We didn't endure what we did so that people would accept the stigmas that now surround the word "gay". That word didn't start out that way, but that's where it's at now. Then along came "g0y" where society is not given the liberty to define what this new term means! It's about time! Thanks, from both Billy and me.