Date: Sat, 16 Oct 2010 16:12:39 -0400
From: Jason <sterling.jason@gmail.com>
Subject: Boot Camp Part 1

Boot Camp

By Jason Sterling

Comments or suggestions always welcomed at:
sterling.jason@gmail.com

                         PROLOGUE

In the early 1950's archeological diggings uncovered buried
scrolls written in classical Latin by an anonymous author,
but very probably the person described in the story as the
assistant to Titus the leading character.  The first translation
into English was done then but never published, likely due to
the fact that the subject matter for the time seemed to be
racy and even possibly pornographic.  I found this version doing
some research on other matters and transposed the wording into
contemporary American English.  I've used the Latin words only
when there was no good American equivalent available.

In the 2nd or 3rd century the Roman Empire was still at its
height and within Rome itself roughly half the population
were slaves.  This needed a large, well run organization to
supply the requirement for this vital work force.  Semi military
operations did this training, supplying instruction and culling
expertise to fill the needed household slaves that were the
type mostly in demand.  This story may seem brutal and
sexually exploitive, but that is how it was back then.

Part  1

A new batch of slaves arrived to be trained in the special fort.
These men were those still alive when captured during one of
the campaigns in foreign, hostile lands.  Some were prisoners
of war, most were merely peasants or slaves of the locals that
were conquered.  For whichever or however they arrived, they all
needed to be schooled, and broken if need be, in the trade of
becoming a well performing worker in the ranks of those who
will be consigned to the lowest duties that the Empire needs
doing.  The fields, the mines, the marine galleys, all require
strong backs to bend to the tasks that must be done if this
Empire is to keep its place as ruler of half the known world.

My name is Titus and I too was taken as a slave when I was
no more than 14 years of age.  After much training and rigid
discipline by a Master who taught me much, but more
importantly took a personal liking to me, I served him well
for many enjoyable years.  Eventually he died, and to my
surprise, granted me freedom in a document he left that was
opened and read upon his death.  Having no other assets or
property, I had to earn a living on my own for the first time
in my life.  All I knew was the slave training camp and the
ins and outs of the politics there, so I applied to the Camp
Commander for a position with him.  He had his own stable
of comely girls and boys to service him and I was too old
to be of any interest to him, but he did need trainers.  He
gave me a job predicated upon my learning to read and write
and a place to live.  The pay was miserly but it was enough
to live on.

My employment consisted of gathering fresh recruits into
cohorts of 20 men at a time, strip them of all clothing, have
them collared and inspected to weed out the ones that didn't
have at least a rudimentary understanding of basic Roman
language.  Those unable to speak or perceive our tongue would
be sent to a different part of the garrison where they would be
taught the basics.  Some slaves feigned the inability to grasp
the most common language in the known world, but after a
taste of the whip on their bare backs and loins, most of the
impostors could summon up enough Latin to qualify for being
included in our training program.

Once collared the men would be chained together into groups of
5.  The slaves had enough length of chain between them to be
able to walk and work freely as a unit.  Another chain went around
their left ankle attached to a removable clamp when outside and
only their immediate instructor was present.  When safely in a
a more controlled setting the leg chain was taken off.  When all
20 of the slots were filled, the slaves would be ordered to form
a square facing each other and a physician's assistant would go
slowly from one man to the next feeling here, poking there until
all the holes of each body was inspected and probed.  If all of
these recruits were found generally free of disease and no major
physical problems exempted anyone, they were ordered to go
into one of the fort's inner vaults and stand at attention.  At least
half of most cohorts had to have this stance explained to them.
The other half were usually captured soldiers and had a good grasp
of what standing at attention meant.

When screams of pain came out of the adjacent room, even through
heavy wooden doors, the fresh trainees got very nervous.  This is
where I'd first make contact with these guys.  I had to walk among
them carrying a long switch, give a good healthy cut to the buttocks
of one of them, mostly to get his attention, and shout in his ear,
"You slaves were ordered to stand at attention and in that position
there is no talking, movement or otherwise doing anything but
standing in an erect and rigidly upright manner.  Those who can not
do this will be severely punished.  Is that understood?"  Usually that
was enough to get backs straight and unmoving again.

A strong smell of burnt flesh emanated from behind the closed doors
soon after the next cry of pain was heard.  I stepped infront of the
waiting slaves and explained in a loud voice that what was going on
in the next room was a branding on the right arm of every new recruit
and I showed them my own personal brand.  I expained, "See this here?
I got mine at age 14 and I have carried it with me ever since.  Sure, it
hurt at first, but the pain is over in less than a minute and a healing
salve is applied right afterwards.  Now how can you call yourselves men
when you can't take a little bit of pain now and then?"  I learned from
my own experience that not knowing what was going to happen to you
was far worse than what other tortures awaited a newly captured body
being trained for some duty only the gods knew was awaiting them.

Once they were all branded I got them together as a group and explained
whatever they had been named before to forget that epithet.  "From this
point on you will only use the number burned into your flesh as the
name you will go by.  To make matters easier, in small groups like you
are now, I will shorten your name and only use the last 3 numbers.  You
there!  Step forward and let me read your number.  You are 136!  Got
that slave?"  Just then everyone looked down at their right arms.  A few
of the neophytes had no idea how to read Roman numerals and had to
be told what their numbers were.

"Remember your new names you scum.  If I call out your number and you
don't immediately respond with 'Sir.  Yes Sir.' you will feel the sting of
my whip on your worthless skin.  After which you will thank me for the
punishment just meted out by me or whomever else in authority is
chastising you.  Now that I've fully explained that...form a line and
follow me outside to a place where I can cover the fundamentals of
how you are to act and behave while you are here."  The cohort was
led to the far end of the field and told to stand at attention.  In front
of them was a raised scaffold with 5 sets of hanging chains, 3 of which
were empty, 2 sets had slaves hanging by their wrists just high enough
to not be able to touch the planks below their feet even if they tried
to lift up on their toes.  Off to the side sat a young lad who held a
cat o' nine tail in one hand and a thick rod in the other, looking
intently at an hour glass on a stand in front of him.  He was just
looking at the sand run down to the lower part of the globe.  He too
was a slave because he wore a tight leather collar around his neck and
nothing else.

"You see those miserable wretches hanging there.  That's an example of
someone who didn't follow the strict rules of this camp.  Now turn around
and face me.  Those 10 of you in the front rank drop to your knees.  Those
in the back rank stand at attention and none of you take your eyes off
of me while I make it plain to you the most important instructions you
will be expected to follow from now on"  I looked over the squad standing
before me and saw an assemblage of frightened men and boys who were
about to be trained in all phases of servitude.  Pain and denial of basic
needs would be my means of getting this motley crew into shape to
become good, submissive slaves to carry out anything their new Masters
wanted done---no matter the personal abhorrence involved in the task.


End of Part 1