Dear Sir,
It sure felt good unloading on you the other night. Hope you got off to it as much as I did. I don't think this letter will end up as long as that one did, but I've got another story for you. I told you I had plenty of stories for you, so you can look forward to many more. I don't know how frequently I'll write, but I seem to have a lot of extra time right now. This is a true story. I think I told you a little about my high school. There were so many paddlings, all the time. I tried my best to stay out of trouble. I was a good student, but, like almost everybody, I got into trouble now and then. The few guys I remember who didn't. weren't any fun. I DID have fun, and I paid the price.
Being a military school, we didn't have a Principal. But we did have a Commandant. His name was Col. Radley, but everybody called him "Col. Red-Ass" (always behind his back) because he'd swat first., then listen. When I say he'd "swat". I mean he'd "SWAT!". In my opinion, Coach "Mac" gave the hardest licks, but Radley was almost as hard. But the big difference was that while Coach Mac may have hit a little harder, Radley gave more licks. Always. Coach rarely gave a guy more than two or three licks. If you got sent to Radley's office, it usually meant about five; and you could hear those licks all the way down the hall through two closed doors and an office.
Col. "Redass" was about forty, though he didn't look it because he was in good shape. Looking back on it, I think I had a "crush" on him, believe it or not. I guess he was a perfect father figure to me, and the wav he paddled all those butts made him even more attractive to me. I was scared to death of him, like everybody else, but late at night I got off to the image of him busting my ass. He was good-looking in a military way, with close-cropped graying brown hair and blue eyes. He was always perfectly groomed, with impecable attention to detail. His uniforms were starched and spotless, there was always a mirror shine on his shoes, and you could always hear him coming because his shoes had taps on the heels. His steps, like him, were crisp and clear. His office was spotlessly clean. He kept his desk free from papers to allow room for the daily paddlings he administered. With nearly five hundred male students, he paddled at least one a day, often three, five or more. After report card day, there was always a line of about fifteen guys down the hall to his office. He had a large wooden desk with a thick glass top. Under the glass was the school emblem. You'd bend over the desk and stare at the emblem while he paddled your butt.
Being a good student, I got sent to Col. Radley only a few times, and never for grades. But the last paddling I got from him was the best (worst). It's the one I remember.
I was a Senior, and there were only ten days remaining to graduation. I was an Officer, (first Lieutenant), and had a reasonably high position in the cadet Chain of Command. I was not one of "Radley's Boys" (there were some, of whom he was especially proud) but he did like me and I think he was surprised when I got myself into trouble. Anyway, with less than two weeks of school left, I and some other guys were getting restless. Since I was a boarder, I didn't have a car, but a buddy of mine did, and he got up a group of fellow officers to skip out of school for a couple of hours. It started out harmless enough, we each had two free hours after lunch. We could sneak off campus, cruise around and be back in time for our next classes. My friends did it all the time, I never had because I usually did my homework during the day. But that day I was caught up in all the excitement, and I'd been good for so long. I went along. There were seven of us, all -together, all officers, all knew better, wedged into a Ford Mustang. There was an ice chest of Lone Star beer in the trunk. We cruised around for almost two hours, chugging beer and having a hell of a good time. We didn't know Col. Radley had seen us leave. Not till we got back.
I was in Chemistry class, with a light beer buzz when I heard the announcement over the P.A.:
THIS IS COLONEL RADLEY
THE FOLLOWING MEN WILL REPORT TO MY OFFICE IMMEDIATELY
CADET WILSON CADET BRUNER CADET LORING CADET MILLER CADET STEVENS CADET BROWNING CADET MORRIS "
An announcement from Radley over the P.A. was never good news, especially if it included your name. But this time I knew what was coming. He'd gotten us all correct, leaving no one out, and including no one who was not involved. We all gathered, from all over the school, in the hallway before his closed door. A couple of guys were really upset. This was a serious offense. We waited till we were all there before entering the first office and knocking on his office door.
" COME IN. "
A tenn shun!
We stood at stiff attention, in a straight line before his desk. One by one, he asked each of us for facts. We answered in clear, military answers. "Yes, Sir", "Yes, Sir"! etc.
Radley rose from his desk, went to each of us and "Busted" us. Not our butts, but our rank. Each of us was hoping for the paddle. No one wanted to graduate a Buck Private. But that's what each of us was. I was crying, and I had a lot of company. We were good boys, or tried to be. We had earned our rank, and we deserved it. I'd worked hard, made good grades. I'd tried hard, harder than I thought I could. I couldn't graduate a Private. My dad would never understand. I wanted the paddle. So did everybody else.
Radley then launched into one of his tried and true lectures, the one about "Officers,, and leadership, responsibility and setting a good example". We listened to it. We each deserved it.Finally, after about thirty minutes, he said what each of us wanted to hear.
"Now. Would you men like to graduate as Buck Privates?" "NO, SIR!" It was in unison. "Would you men like to EARN your rank back?" "YES, SIR!
He moved to the closet where he kept several paddles. He reached inside for the big one. Then he said it:
" ONE LICK FOR EVERY STRIPE!
I think we each shut our eyes in fear and did some quick math. I was a First Lieutenant.
I don't know if I can remember them all, but I went through the chain of command.
Private Private First-Class Corporal Sergeant Sergeant First-Class Staff Sergeant Master Sergeant Second Lieut. FIRST LIEUT. Major Captain Etc.
Sorry my memory is so bad. You'd think after twelve years of military school I'd remember. But I do remember it meant ten licks for me. I left something out of my list because I remember getting ten licks.
Anyway, each of us opted for the licks. No one remained a Private. Because there were seven of us, Col. Radley marched us down into the basement of the main building where the Armory was. That's were all the rifles and drill equipment were kept, as well as the offices of SGT. Corey, our drill instructor, and SGT. Murphy, his assistant. They knew we were coming, and had cleared off a long table, that ran the length of the armory, where about fifteen guys could sit down and clean their rifles. The chairs were gone from in front of the table. No one spoke as Radley ordered us to face the table. He gave the command "DOUBLE RIGHT...... DRESS!" and we each raised both our arms, finger tip to finger tip. This provided a four-foot space between each man. There is not a military command to bend over, but each of us cleared our hip pockets and bent over the table. Nobody said a word, we were still flat attention". Radley held the paddle and moved behind the first man. I was somewhere in the middle. The two other men, SGT. Corey and SGT. Murphy, stood well behind him, with their arms crossed, watching as seven of their best officers bent over the armory table for what they knew would be a paddling for the books. Both of them paddled also, especially SGT. Murphy, and this was certainly not the first time their armory table had been used for this purpose. But they rarely saw an officer's butt over that table, much less seven of them. But of course, we were Privates at that point. Radley removed his coat in preparation for the monumental job at hand. We wore starched khaki uniforms, consisting of a khaki dress shirt, tucked into heavy, starched khaki pants. We wore white officer's web belts with a brass buckle. Since drill was not for another two hours, none of us had on our Officer's hip boots (unfortunately!). Instead, we wore black cordovans. Radley was ready, in position behind the first guy in line. 11 CK" He moved behind the next man. 11 CK" The next man. 11 CK" He moved behind me.
I took the lick. It burned like shit. But I stayed imposition. It was much too early to really hurt. It was an average, hard lick from Col. Redass. I listened as the licks exploded across my buddy's butts. Every time a lick landed, I felt it in my butt. When he reached the @.of the line he stated,
"Gentlemen, you are each now a Private First Class,"
He moved down the line a second time. We each made Corporal. A couple of guys were starting to get teary-eyed. The licks hurt, especially hearing all the others. By the time we each made it to Sergeant and Sergeant First Class, the crying started in earnest. You can probably understand just how much it would take to get a group of 18 year old guys to cry. Well, that says a lot for Col. Redass, and his licks. Plus, we were each ashamed to get it in front of each other, and especially SGT, Murphy and SGT. Corey, who we respected and admired. Our butts were burning, and our pride was shot down. Though we wouldn't admit it then, we also respected Col. Radley. Each time Radley made it to the end of the line, he would announce our rrank." And each additional trip down the line of butts added one more step of rank. Believe me, I and the others got a good, clear understanding of just what it meant to be an officer, as well as all the steps along the way.
After Radley's ninth trip down the line-up, two guys were once again at the rank of 2nd Lieut. and were told to stand straight. That left five of us. Three of us stood up after ten licks. The other two were Captains, and got two additional licks.
Radley was exhausted from the effort. I had tears in my eyes, and plenty of fire in my butt, but like the others, I stood at stiff ATTENTION as he continued paddling the others. When we were all standing, Radley handed the paddle to SGT. Corey.
"OFFICERS! ABOUT..... FACE!'?
We spun around, with military precision. Radley was breathing hard, and had large sweat rings beneath both arms. He put his coat back on. I was ashamed to face him, like the others. I was grateful for what he said next.
"Gentlemen, this episode is closed. There will be no further punishment. Assume your duties as usual. But remember -- THERE ARE STILL TEN DAYS LEFT UNTIL GRADUATION,
CARRY ON!"
SGT. Corey had all of our rank, in seven piles, on his desk. We solemnly gathered it up and, I don't know who started it, but each of us walked up to Col. Radley, with tears in our eyes and shook his hand, and said, "Thank you, Colonel." I think he appreciated it. We each learned a valuable lesson, though we wouldn't admit it at the time. We learned the value of our rank, and what it meant to be an officer. I had taken it for granted; but the idea of graduating without rank was unthinkable. As much as my ass burned, I was grateful for the paddling, and the opportunity of retaining my rank.
There was no use trying to keep it a secret. Those who somehow hadn't heard 72 "Radley Licks" coming from the armory had heard about it from someone who had.You better believe we took a lot of shit. You'd hear licks around that place all the time, but it rarely interrupts class. Everybody had heard our names called out over the P.A. and knew something was up, but since we were all Officers, they never expected to hear licks.
The armory was in the basement, and there's a row of classrooms on the first floor. Some buddies of mine were taking a test in one of those classrooms, and heard it all. Nobody thought much about it until after it went over five licks. Then five turned into ten, then fifteen, then twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, sixty, and finally seventy two. They said that after about two minutes of licks, there wasn't a sound coming from any of those classes. Even the teachers stopped teaching, as everybody just listened. It was probably the only time in the history of that school where you could hear a pin drop; and when it finally stopped, there was a rumbling of comments before classes returned to anything close to normal.
I spent sometime up in my room with the door shut crying, with my hands on my hot ass. But I had to get ready for Drill, and it was time to put it all behind me. I put on my Officer's boots and met my buddies and went out there, pretending it didn't hurt. There was a lot of shit, and in retaliation, I told everybody about it before they heard it from someone else. I made it through Drill, my voice barely cracked as I shouted out commands. It had been a hell of a paddling. If I had to rate it, I'd give it a 8-2- on a scale of 1-10. The other guys would probably give it a perfect "l@O", but I've gotten a perfect "10", and there's a hell of a lot of@distance on that scale between Col. Redass and Dub Thompson.
Well, sir, thanks once again for the opportunity of sharing another of my favorite experiences. There are plenty more. Right now I'm recalling actual experiences. These are paddlings I actually received. Then there are the ones I watched others get. Then I've got my frat experiences, as well as my dad's. I hope you like to read, because I sure like to write about them. In addition, I've got some favorite hot fantasies. Shit - get ready. You're elected. I hope you don't mind all this. But I've got to share it with some one. And after I'm done writing all there is, I want to meet you and get the busted ass I need. Because there's a story that hasn't happened yet - yours and mine. I hope you're ready when this butt comes your way.
Until next time,
"MIKE"