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PUTA
There were a couple areas on the way back to the barracks that would work. The barracks were just off Eubanks Field and the training area they spent nearly all their time at every day. There was a group of buildings in between the gym and the barracks: a Credit Union, the Elementary School, and Carey Pool. The pool was closed in the winter, which meant no one would be there.
Puta went to a side door of the building that served as the entrance to the pool and held the mens and womens locker rooms as well as the check in office. He made quick work of the locked door in the dark, leading Valentino inside. He turned to secure the door and Valentino moved to grab him from behind, encompassing him with his arms while he kissed Julio's neck. It felt good to have Valentino's warm, hard body pressed against him.
"God, you are so sexy Julio. I want you so bad." Valentino moaned into his shoulder.
Julio arched his head back to allow his blonde pretty boy full access to his throat and body.
"Jess beautiful, we want each other. Is good, no?" Julio raised his arms so he could pull Valentino's head tighter into his neck while the blonde ran his hands along the muscles of his torso. Valentino pulled Julio's sweatshirt and tee shirt up to remove it, then removed his own, throwing them on the concrete floor nearby. Julio turned around so he could deliver a deep-tongued kiss upon his lover's full pink lips. Valentino moaned.
Julio felt like Valentino was just the perfect size for him, fitting exactly into his arms, molding to his body where their chests and stomachs rubbed together with every heaving breath. Julio brought his hands up to rub the close-cropped blonde hair on Valentino's head, hair that was tight, stiff and slightly wiry which told Julio if it were longer Valentino would have beautiful curly blonde rings. The future possibility of running his fingers through hair like that sent a cascade of warmth down Julio's spine. He imagined the beautiful soldier lying on a blanket on the sand of the beach by his home, his tanned golden skin shimmering with the wetness of the ocean, clad only in a skimpy bikini swimsuit. Red. Yes, a red silky swimsuit would look perfect, thin enough to reveal the outline and features of his cock, balls and ass. He wanted to watch Valentino emerge from the surf in that suit, seeing how it suctioned to his body to reveal everything as the late afternoon sun sunk towards the horizon behind his tight, lithe body and illuminated his wide shoulders and narrow hips, his long toned thighs, flaring calves and sure solid feet as he walked up the beach toward him, the ocean dribbling down over each muscle, limb and bone. Valentino was unlike so many of his other conquests. He was only minimally passive to Julio's movements. He possessed a fiery passion that equaled Julio's hot blooded desire. Valentino's sculpted hands sought out every inch of Julio's body with his long fingers and wide palms which massaged and pressed into him as if he were trying to discover how deep he could work them into Julio's soft brown skin and hard developed muscles. Simply being touched by Valentino was a sexual act in itself and there was a moment when Julio wondered if he were the conquest rather than the other way around. He could feel Valentino's need in every movement, his enjoyment in every moan and when Valentino's hands went inside the waistband of his sweats above his ass he found he wasn't worried about it. The blonde wasn't after his ass to fuck it and Julio knew Valentino was exclusively a receiver. It wouldn't have made any difference anyway. Julio approached every man with one thing in mind - Julio was doing the fucking.
He then descended in a squat to cup the blonde's firm ass as he ran his mouth over the hard covered mound in the front. Even through three layers of cloth Julio applied pressure to the swollen buried cock as Valentino moaned. Careful not to get the front of Valentino's sweats wet with spit, Julio softly traced the 6 inches of hardness with his mouth before pulling the waistband down to mid thigh, releasing the soldier's dripping cock and relaxed balls. They could take their time in this hidden place and Julio was determined to enjoy it fully.
He slowly cupped and massaged Valentino's beautiful balls that were sparsely covered with light blonde hairs. Valentino didn't have a thick mat of pubic hair, and instead it was light and thin, just enough to frame the sexy circumcised pinga. While the balls were in his palm Julio extended his index finger back to rub the blonde's hole, then slowly licked the shaft and head, tasting the sweet pre-cum that was smeared around the tip.
"You tasting so good, mi tesoro." Julio moaned.
"Fuck, Julio... suck my dick. God that feels amazing." Valentino said in his deep voice. It turned Julio on that Valentino, although sexually passive, he was still incredibly masculine. He leaned slightly forward to allow Julio better access to his hole. "God, keep doing that."
With his other hand Julio rubbed and groped along Valentino's abdomen and torso, then moved around behind to grab one of the full and firm ass cheeks to spread the blonde's ass apart while he fingered the tight puckered opening with an ever increasing pressure. He gently kissed and licked the head of Valentino's throbbing cock, tasting more pre-cum before he surrounded it with his mouth and slowly sucked it inside.
"Ooooooooohhhhhh, fuck! Yes! Your mouth is so warm." Valentino moaned. He thrust gently with his hips, unable to decide whether he wanted his dick deeper in Julio's mouth or his tingling asshole deeper on Julio's thick finger.
Julio didn't rush or speed up any of his movements, nor did he increase the pressure of his mouth. Gently he swirled his tongue around the shaft as he softly moved his wet mouth up and down. Although Julio could easily handle a bigger dick, he found Valentino's size just right, not too thick or too long, perfectly straight and tapered. It allowed him to use his lips, tongue and jaw at the same time to create a constantly changing motion and movement.
Valentino's hands were resting on Julio's shoulders as he writhed, lost in the pleasure of Julio's mouth, hand and fingers. The sensations coming from his dick, his balls and his ass battled for primacy and he couldn't focus on any single one. Julio's unhurried attention, his gentleness and slow rhythmic motion everywhere drove Valentino crazy with pleasure. He was already so sexually attracted to Julio's masculine and confident dominance that being used as Julio's plaything drove him completely wild. Most men had an emotional barrier that kept them from giving up complete control, especially to another man, and Valentino was no different in spite of his sexual preference. Julio's dominance and aggressiveness wasn't mean or hurtful, he didn't seek to overpower Valentino with violence or being rough, although Valentino could imagine he'd allow Julio to do that to him if it pleased him. No, Julio was strong but gentle, tough but loving, and fuck he knew how to push ALL the buttons from the words he said, how he said them, where he put his hands and what he did with them. Julio took what he wanted but the way he did it made YOU want him to do it.
Valentino was still trying to sort out in his head how gay he actually was. He knew he was attracted to men, but the funny thing was only certain men, a certain type. He didn't care about dick much, which was why he was still mostly confused. For him, it was about the guy. It was about the attitude. He still hadn't had much sex because of that. Also, being in the Army made it extremely difficult and nothing kills a boner like going to prison for screwing dudes. Most guys weren't worth it, no matter how good looking even if looks was low down on Valentino's list. But there was a particular demeanor that always got Valentino's attention: confidence, masculinity and a `do what I want' with no apologies attitude. It was cocky without being an asshole. There was one guy in Basic Valentino couldn't forget. He wasn't all that attractive, almost ugly in fact. His body wasn't anything special, and there was no single feature that stood out. But fuck, that dude just had a way about him. Nothing bothered him or got him upset, even when the D.I. was screaming. He was serious but could still laugh, and didn't do any of the juvenile things some of the other recruits did. He took care of his shit and duties like it was no big deal when most of the other guys were whining and complaining. He was just a solid guy. And that turned Valentino on.
So with Julio, Valentino felt like he'd won the lottery. Not only was Julio handsome with his brown skin, eyes, and buzz cut hair, his slightly wide nose and wide full lips, but he had a bitchin' body. Julio wasn't built like Sleeper or Zeus but he still had defined muscles that thickened in all the right places. And a beautiful uncircumcised cock that was both thick and decently long. All that was just icing on the cake that was Julio's amazing personality. You could tell that if you got on his bad side he'd teach you a lesson, that he didn't take any shit from anyone and could handle himself in just about any situation. But there was a tenderness to him he didn't put on display, an emotional beauty he hid from the world that he only showed to special people. In spite of his tough no-bullshit exterior, Julio had a joy to him that Valentino felt honored to be able to see. And right now, the fact that this amazing man was sucking HIS dick, when it should be the other way around, was bringing Valentino the the brink of orgasm.
"Shit, Julio, you're gonna make me cum." He gasped. He wanted to warn Julio so that he could pull off and Valentino didn't shoot in his mouth.
"Man, I'm serious...it's coming...I'm gonna shoot! You better pull off!"
Julio just continued doing what he'd been doing for the last few minutes, neither speeding up or slowing down.
"Fuck! Fuck! Shit, I'm coming! FUUUUUCCCCCKKKKKK!" Valentino grunted, grabbing Julio's shoulders while he jerked and spasmed, shooting his hot load of jizz into the back of Julio's mouth. "Fuck! It's still going. Fuck! Damn! Fuck!"
Julio just kept gently sucking, letting Valentino take as long as he needed to expel every ounce of cum he had in his balls. Julio took the time to savor the taste and was not disappointed. It was sweet and incredibly satisfying. He took small swallows to make the experience last.
When Valentino was finished and had stopped trembling, Julio released his dick and stood up, making sure his hand still gripped Valentino's balls and his finger remained caressing his hole.
"Oh man, that was amazing. I don't think I've cum that hard ever." The blonde said still trying to catch his breath.
Julio smiled, his bright even teeth complimenting the amusement glistening in his gorgeous eyes. "Estaba tan delicioso."
Valentino laughed. "I'm going to have to learn Spanish better, but I know enough to know what that means. Did you swallow my cum?"
"Jess, of course. You say Claro que si, or maybe Por supuesto."
"Hmmm, Claro que si." Valentino rolled the words around on his tongue. "I like it. It sounds sexy."
Julio laughed. "I will show you real sexy now, my beautiful." Then he lowered them both to the cold concrete making sure Valentino's bare skin laid on the fabric of their shirts. Julio proceeded to make slow, gentle love to this amazing man using every considerable skill in his arsenal until his lover climaxed twice more while his fat Puerto Rican cock stretched and filled Valentino's sweet tight hole with several thick loads of heavy Hispanic leche, both of them kissing and breathing into each others' mouth in an unbroken passion that ignored everything around them but the warmth of the emotion which swelled like a tidal wave.
Julio realized Valentino was so much more than a conquest.
ASSMUNCH
Our second Jump Day started just like the first, with the exception of being loaded down with gear for our first Combat Jump and we formed up at 0330 with our PASGT (Personnel Armor System for Ground Troops) and loaded ruck. Lenger did a quick inspection, something Potter had taught him early on. A Navy Corpsman usually didn't encounter battlefield situations unless he was embedded with a unit that was shorebased. So Lenger wasn't familiar with all the gear a combat soldier needed to wear, or how it was properly worn. Once again, it was mostly about straps and snaps, and having the proper items on your equipment belt if you had one. There was one piece of gear we always had to have regardless of our activity that day: our two canteens and water. Infantry went through gear pretty fast, especially when you first started out green. You could look at a soldier's gear and immediately tell if they would have your back. The more beat up his gear looked, the more you could count on the guy, except for Zeus. His gear never seemed to get too torn up. The Army expected a certain amount of wear and tear, and Infantry got the most abuse and sometimes you came back without a piece or one damaged so much it was useless. That's why I was on my fourth replacement canteen. There were some soldiers whose gear looked like they'd bought it yesterday...and that wasn't too far from the truth having probably just bought most of it right before they arrived at the Basic Airborne Course as one of the items on their required list. But any Army grunt, regardless of MOS, should have a set of canteens and an equipment belt stored with his or her gear, even if it was stuffed in a closet and never saw the light of day after basic.
As usual, first thing in the morning my ruck felt like a comforting weight. That would change throughout the day until by the evening I'd be sick of dragging that heavy bitch around, but for now it felt like a familiar friend hugging my back. Today's pack out, and actually the Airborne Course pack out was just 40 pounds or so, not bad. We (infantry) could easily have an 80 pound equipment load, and depending on what your job was it could be 100. Someone had to carry the 20 pound radio. Flashlights were also stupid weight (It was actually the batteries that made them heavy, but even so the sturdy green metal 7 inch long flashlight with angled head weighed about a pound by itself) even if they were necessary. Trust me, after the second mile you started reviewing your gear mentally in your head trying to figure out what you could ditch. Trouble was, you already knew you couldn't ditch anything because you didn't pack out anything you didn't absolutely need. That didn't stop you from entertaining the fantasy though. `Those MRE's are probably 20 pounds just by themselves.' And being in training meant when your Sergeant told you to pack out for field, you didn't dare leave out anything just to make your pack lighter. Sarges had some kind of radar that signaled when you didn't have a piece of gear.
`I need a hole right here, Private. Dig me a regulation fighting hole." Because Sarge knew you left your entrenching tool back at the barracks to lighten your weight. And then, when you didn't have your entrenching tool, you were generously given the entire Squad's entrenching tools to carry so that you could dig a hole for the Army any time Sarge needed a hole. Which was just about every mile. And yes, there was an Army standard for digging holes. And there were many different kinds of holes. Grenade sumps, fighting holes like open holes, split parapet and frontal parapet, latrines, elbow holes for you to position your elbows while holding your rifle in prone position or in a fighting hole, holes to bury your gear temporarily, holes to hold poles upright, holes for traps, holes for evasion and rescue... you know, someone smart should put a book together of all the holes. Chapter one should be entitled ASS HOLES, and it should be a list of names of the people who decided we needed to ruck 80 pounds on a 14 mile march.
So a mere 35 or 40 pounds for a couple miles wasn't even a workout for us. The non Infantry randoms still weren't used to it though, even after two weeks of PT. Sucks to be them.
"I see only a couple of you are reviewing your jump manuals, so I guess everyone else will sail right through this jump." Our black hat said, walking up to our formation. "Today you'll be joining three other sticks on your jump from a C17. Stick Leader, get your Legs to the parachute shed."
"Yes Sergeant Airborne!" Lenger called out, moving to the left of our formation. He began the count that would lead us on our double time.
Our Sergeant Airborne began the marching cadence, the same one we'd been using the entire course. I guess Legs didn't rate anything other than the Airborne Cadence. Maybe it was because we were from all different branches, and different occupations so there was only one cadence they'd let us use. Maybe the Sergeants Airborne thought we were too stupid to learn new cadences. Maybe it was their favorite cadence and it made their Red White and Blue hearts beat with Freedom. Who knows? Sergeants don't tell grunts why. Grunts aren't supposed to think past the response `YES SERGEANT!'.
As usual once we reached the parachute shed it was another `hurry up and wait' while we stood in line with the other sticks to get issued our harness, parachute, other jump gear like a dummy weapon and weapon case, and reserve. As infantry, the Bravos all had the required ACH. Others like Lenger and the Chair Force boys needed to be issued a helmet which already had a number stenciled on it. If you had your own helmet you needed to put a strip of white tape on each side and write your student number on it. We weren't permitted talking unless addressed by a black hat, and we weren't allowed to sleep during the process. I could see the point of that. With everyone silent you could hear the black hats giving commands and instruction even thirty feet away.
At this point everyone had their movements down as we donned our gear and waited to be inspected. At each stage different sergeants airborne would run their eyes over us and occasionally reach out to test snaps, buckles, clips, the tuck of our straps and positioning of the various gear hanging from our harnesses. Our helmet pads were checked as well as our chin straps for snugness. The redundancy was something we were told would happen before every jump even if we were lucky enough to get our wings. In a real jump we would be expected to check each other with our unit leader conducting a final check but for training there were as many as five redundant checks: the rigger who packed your chute and prepared your harness, yourself who checked every inch of your equipment, your donning buddy who did the same examination of every inch, your Sergeant Airborne who checked for proper assembly, positioning and snugness, and finally your JumpMaster who did a visual and final adjustment if necessary.
Soon enough we were grouped with the three other sticks that would board our bird, but before we were directed to board we were given more instruction as we stood on the tarmac. It was 0630, and the sun wouldn't rise for another hour and a half. Our combat jump required that we knew the proper time and process of releasing our packs and weapons from our harness so that it would hang from straps a few feet below us on our landing. In the last few seconds of our fall we'd have to pull a cord to release our rucks when we were approximately 30 feet from touching down. This was a review of material we'd been instructed on during one of the many classes we'd had during the course. Our Sergeant Airborne described our jump today.
"You will board the aircraft from the rear, and you will be directed where to sit by your flight crew. You will remain seated until your Jumpmaster gives you the order to stand, at which time you will stand up. You will not adjust or touch your equipment in any way during your ride, whether you are seated or standing. You will remain silent during your ride. After being given the command to stand, the soldier behind you will release your clip line and pass it to your hand. On the C17 you will jump from both sides of the aircraft and each side will have two rows of seats. Once you are on your feet, you will integrate into a single line before you clip into the static line above your head after being given the command by your Jumpmaster. You will clip in immediately behind the soldier in front of you. You will wait until that soldier ahead of you has placed his clip on the static line. This is so your lines do not become crossed. At your Jumpmaster's command you will shuffle forward until your Jumpmaster tells you to stop. You will wait for your Jumpmaster's touch before moving towards the door. The green light/red light indicator is there for your Jumpmaster's use, you are not to pay attention or look at the indicator, you are to keep your attention on your Jumpmaster ONLY." The red/green indicator was a light that the pilot used to signal the Jumpmaster at the exit door that the aircraft was over the drop zone (green) or not (red).
Every move was choreographed precisely. This far along in the course everyone knew the drill, which was that all movements happened with exact timing and only at the direction of the Jumpmaster. After yesterday's jump there were far less nerves due to facing the unexpected. And with the added combat gear it was extremely unlikely that we'd clip in anywhere but exactly where we needed to. After all, we'd be somewhere between two and three feet behind the soldier in front of us due to the parachute on his back and our rucks hanging in front of our legs. Nothing was left to chance. Chance was just another word for a soldier coming back in a flag draped casket. And training accidents happened all the time, you didn't even need to be in combat. In the Infantry, you learned early on that every instruction you were given was meant to keep you alive in some way, from how you held your weapon, to how you tied your boots and what you carried in your pockets. Maybe that could be Chapter 2 of the HOLES manual: Holes In Your Body and How to Avoid Them.
We stood in formation for a good hour or so with nothing to do. We couldn't even review our jump manuals because we weren't permitted to take equipment out of our uniform while we were in harness (Jump Manual lived in your left breast pocket during the entire course). The sun wasn't up yet and even if we could look over our Jump Manual we'd need our flashlight which was tucked in a side pocket of our rucks. No, while the flight crew took their lazy sweet time doing their pre-flight check of everything from wheels to engines we just stood there on the tarmac at parade rest. That wasn't bad, though. Everyone, including the Air Force randoms, was used to long periods of parade rest. Don't lock your knees and you were fine. In case you didn't know, locking your knees while standing for an extended period of time was a guaranteed way to pass out. Something about blood pressure and the collection of blood in your legs. Fuck, just ask Bootlicker, he can explain why. I just knew (from experience, which any Sarge would say was `the only way') you didn't lock your knees.
I kinda figured this was a test. The Sergeants Airborne didn't HAVE to keep us at parade rest for over an hour, they could have given the command to squat or released us to sit. I had the suspicion like everything else in the BAC, this was a test of our determination. And because of the inactivity, for the fifth time since the midnight murder mission (yeah, I was counting) the sequence of events that led up to Barnell and Delnick's death played out in my head. Potter was right. The moment comes back again and again. Even though I had squared it all away as a necessary and only course of action it didn't stop me from reliving it. It helped to remind myself that everything that occurred was still a light sentence in comparison to what they'd done to Weeble. And part of the issue I was having was that in spite of the brutality of it all I found it to be not as cathartic as my animal brain wanted it to be. It lacked something that still left me with a need for more. I thought it was strange that somehow I wanted the whole ordeal to be more vicious and brutal. That wasn't like me. While I didn't shy away from violence I was perfectly fine using it in appropriate amounts in the right situations. But this? It went beyond rational and was visceral. No amount of brain soothed the angry storm of primitive emotional fury. It was new territory for me, this inability to reconcile deeper feelings with reality.
Again I had to consider if pulling the trigger myself to deliver the killing shots would make me feel better about it. Or would it just cause me to delve deeper into a soul-searching effort to find that elusive feeling of righteous justice. It was possible that no sense of closure existed when you killed another human being, that only in the most extreme cases would killing your enemy result in relief. Well that absolutely sucked. Everything we were taught, every movie we watched growing up, every story of vengeance and retribution provided a sense of elation when the evil villain got what they deserved. So why wasn't that true in reality? Why did it feel like something was still hanging there unfinished?
Holy fuck. Relief. That was what I was searching for. Thinking of it as an act of finality was wrong. It was final for them, not for me. Behind that thought was the knowledge that partially I was worried about being caught. The news was all over the base that two soldiers had been found shot. The rumor mill didn't have many details and there was no hint that the deaths were suspected to be a murder-suicide between homosexual lovers like Potter had set it up to look. And it didn't help that Potter and Battles continued on as if nothing happened.
Maybe that was the example I needed. Maybe they knew there was no resolution to it and so dwelling on it, examining it, reliving it again and again was futile because there could never be a return to the mindset that existed before you killed. You didn't LET it live inside you, it lived there regardless. I felt that tingle spread out from my spine to my entire body. I could choose. I could choose whether to make it a part of myself or leave it forgotten in a corner all by itself. I could choose to make it matter, or I could choose to ignore it. It wasn't going away so how I looked at it made a difference. And suddenly another wave of epiphany flooded my nervous system - I'd crossed a threshold and participating in the murder was a useful skill I might need in the future, at which time it would be so much easier. Oh, not that I was in any way some violent criminal who would resort to murder to solve a problem. But at some point in my career in the Army I would need to kill, I would be ordered to kill. There would be no doubts when that situation manifested. I knew I wouldn't hesitate or think twice.
In case you took all this introspection to think I was cold, emotionless and without regret about what I did, you should flush that thought down the toilet with the rest of the turds floating around in your brain. Hanging above all of these thoughts and attempt to sift through what I'd done was the primary thought that I really wished it wasn't necessary. I wished Victor never had to go through what he did. I wished those two fucking animals had never entered our world. This was supposed to be an exciting time in our young lives, we were supposed to be gaining skills to become the kind of badass soldiers the Army loved. And it was all so unnecessary, none of it had to happen. If it was true that Delnick and Barnell had done this before, the Army should have done its fucking job and put those fuckers away. But I knew how easily that didn't happen. I didn't have to be Bootlicker or Cellblock to figure out even if Victor came forward and accused them it was highly unlikely the two MP's would even be arrested. That was the downside to rank and position in the military. If you were an inferior accusing a superior of ANYTHING, even the smallest bullshit, the superior was given every benefit of the doubt, even protected from accusations by `unofficial investigations' which meant careful steps were taken to keep everything off the books and quiet so that empty accusations wouldn't ruin someone's career. The Army threw away Privates as easily as the empty brass shells on the firing range. So yeah, I wished none of it had happened. But it did. And Victor and the rest of the Bravos deserved my loyalty and devotion. If that meant I had to put two feral dogs down because the Army wouldn't, my brothers deserved no less. And I knew every single one of them would have chosen the same path if they were given the choice. Participating in the killing had left a discord behind, a friction in my soul, but it was a condition I would gladly bear for my brothers.
I was at a crossroads, and before I could move forward it felt like my mind was asking for something, like it waited for some event to occur. I suppose that was why I had gone over this five times in the last 36 hours. I was stuck in a pattern looking for resolution. But was resolution possible or would I have to just move forward leaving it unresolved behind me? Ugh. I was an itch I couldn't scratch. I might have to box it up and shove it in a closet in my mind.
FT. BENNING COMMAND 0800
"I've got ten minutes. Tell me what you have, Captain." Colonel Baker, the Ft. Benning Garrison Commander ordered Captain Taylor of the CID as they walked into the Colonel's office. "Shut the door, please." He said as he sat behind his desk and placed his elbows on his desk while he leaned forward.
Most crimes that happened on an Army Post weren't of a level that required the Army Criminal Investigation Division to stick their nose in. Assaults or physical altercations, petty theft, AWOL soldiers, property crimes, motor vehicle violations, unauthorized personnel, every small incident you could think of...that was the MP's job. The mysterious deaths of two military police, at midnight, in a restricted area checked off almost all the boxes for CID involvement so Colonel Baker had no choice but to call them in. And that put his Garrison MP's in a REALLY bad mood. Although Sergeants Delnick and Barnell weren't particularly well liked, they weren't exactly hated either. So the MP's wanted to be involved. But the MP's didn't have the investigation expertise and definitely didn't have the well-oiled processes and experienced personnel that were necessary. MP's didn't have a ballistics lab. MP's didn't do DNA, or have a medical examiner.
Colonel Baker didn't give the Captain permission to sit, so Taylor got right to it. "Pretty straight forward, Colonel. Everything seems to point to an illicit affair that turned bad between the two victims. Interviews with soldiers that worked with them or knew them socially indicate Sergeants Delnick and Barnell frequently socialized together off duty. There were over twenty instances in the last two years when one was out of contact during duty hours and the other whether on duty or off also had unknown whereabouts. Our investigation found nothing unusual in their quarters, lockers or personal vehicles."
Captain Taylor took a breath. "The crime scene indicates the two met there shortly after Sergeant Barnell went off duty at 2300 hours. We are pretty sure they arrived together in the same vehicle. The equipment shed was broken into at some time in the past, we found evidence that the latch had been pried off the wood then repaired. Maintenance reports that this is a normal occurrence at almost all depots and sheds on Post. This is confirmed with the damage reports filed. This particular shed has been damaged seven times in the last two years. On two occasions the damage reports have mentioned missing equipment or materials. We have not confirmed that the Sergeants were responsible for this, but I feel it's likely this was not their first visit to this shed and it's possible they conducted their activity at others. However, that is speculation and we won't spend too much time investigating that unless we uncover evidence that the two were involved in theft and that it might contribute to why Delnick killed Barnell then shot himself. At this point we consider additional criminal activity to be unrelated to this instance but we remain open to the possibility. However...." He paused.
Colonel Baker raised an eyebrow. "Say it, Captain."
Taylor shrugged. "We found a discrepancy in materials requisitioned and materials used versus on-hand. A large discrepancy in just the few inventories we looked into. The sheds and warehouses should be packed with the amounts we saw. We didn't go further than that, our focus is on the deaths. But I would recommend the Colonel look into the possibility of a theft ring misappropriating military maintenance equipment."
A scowl descended on the Colonel's face. "Another headache. Noted. Continue."
"Yes, Sir. The ballistics report has not come back yet, but we are certain Sergeant Barnell's duty weapon was used. Three rounds were discharged from the weapon, consistent with the two shots to the back of Barnell's head, and the single shot to Delnick's temple. Gunpowder residue was found on Delnick's hand, and the wound is consistent with a self-inflicted small caliber gunshot to the right temple. Prior to death, two events occurred: a physical altercation with evidence of bruising caused by blunt force and abrasions found on the knuckles of both men, and sexual penetration of Barnell's rectum by Delnick's penis evidenced by the presence of ejaculate and blood. The initial determination is that the penetration was rough enough to rupture blood vessels. The medical examiner will have a more complete report by Friday. We cannot discount that this may be a case of unwanted attention and rape. We need more details to determine this with any certainty. We found nothing unexpected in the shed or exterior. Only two sets of tracks were found leading into the shed from the vehicle and no indication was found that anyone left the shed. We are certain the two Sergeants were the only ones present."
Colonel Baker leaned back in his chair. "It would be nice if this was all neat and tidy and a case of two problems solving themselves. Keep me apprised of any new information that conflicts with your preliminary findings. How long do you think it will take to close this?" He asked.
Captain Taylor shook his head. "That's uncertain, Sir. We should have ballistics back this week, and the medical report which should eliminate a lot of possibilities and confirm others. We've got some background work to do on both Sergeants and are waiting on their previous duty stations to get back to us. The one aspect we can't find an explanation for is that outwardly these two had no indication of any prior homosexual activity. That's not necessarily crucial, but it would explain one aspect of this. Today we're going to go over their service record here at Ft. Benning which might shed some light on this as well."
"Good." Colonel Baker said. "Thank you for your report, Captain. Get this tied up as fast as you can."
Captain Taylor grinned. "Always do, Colonel. I like solving mysteries, not leaving them unfinished. I'm sure I don't have to remind the Colonel -"
"I know, I know. You don't work for me. Just keep me informed if there's something I need to know before your final report. Dismissed."
Taylor omitted his salute before a relaxed turn to open the office door. He knew the Colonel wasn't a stickler for protocol. As he said often "I've got too much to do to endure attentions, salutes and bowing and scraping. Your respect is demonstrated by how little of my time you waste." And Captain Taylor was not in the habit of wasting time.