20-9-00 21:45xxxxxxxx
Sgt. Mark T. Francis,

Hey, Buddy. I've just got time to scribble a letter to you before it's time to inspect my jar-heads and put them to bed for the night. A Sergeant's work is never done.
    Since I last wrote, my unit has been involved in a live-ammo maneuver, with our arch-rivals the Army Rangers as our opponents. Needless to say, we Marines routed the fucking bastards in a resounding victory.
    The brass is hushing up the actual cause of the deaths, attributing the body-bags and field burials to various "fatal accidents." That's one of the side benefits of the current downsizing of the military: We get to engage in the "real thing" even though we're not at war at the moment.
    Let me tell you about one of the more interesting episodes in the maneuver:

We had outflanked a ragtag bunch of Rangers and had slowly picked off most of them. The corpses we examined were mostly 19 and 20-year-olds, though -- green kids we weren't too proud of finishing off.
    We were still encountering random fire from riflemen who seemed to be dug in well behind their lines, so we figured that's where the more seasoned men were, including the Sergeants, whose highly-prized stripes we still had not found on any of the fallen soldiers.
    Only one of my Marines bought it -- a tall strapping 24-year-old redhead who took a round in the belly. He writhed for over an hour before he finally kicked off. We couldn't do anything for him except promise him as he died we'd kill every last one of those fucking Rangers.
    Well, we did something else for him, too. I let his best buddy stroke his dick and jack him to ease the gut pain. He shot off a big old wad of Marine cum right before he died.

Time was on our side. We surrounded the foxholes (actually it was more like a trench) that the Rangers had dug and just let them spend their ammo shooting at us. We staged false starts of assaults on their position to get them to waste rounds.
    Even so, it took a whole day before they showed signs of being worn out and used up. It was a hot fucker of a day, and we figured those boys were pretty damned thirsty.
    About an hour before sunset, with the sun in their eyes, I ordered my Marines to charge the Rangers' position. I was surprised that they didn't even return fire. They just threw their rifles out of the trench and held their hands up. They'd had enough.

There were four of them. They had stripped to the waist in the heat and now held their hands clasped behind their thick-necked, close-cropped Ranger heads as they clambered out of their trench.
    They were in good physical condition, though exhausted and hungry. I had to respect their tough and broad-shouldered physiques, with well-developed chests and backs and heavily muscled arms. To be honest, those four Rangers looked almost good enough to be Marines.
    By rights they should have died in battle, and I guess they knew it. They hung their heads kind of shame-faced for having surrendered instead of letting us ventilate their stud chests with the hot steel Marine rounds they had coming to them.
    We hadn't taken any prisoners yet that day, and neither had the Army, so I decided we weren't going to start. "Hang 'em," I told my men.
    The four Rangers looked surprised, then resigned themselves to their executions. "Fuck!" said one of the Army guys, a ruggedly handsome 30-year-old Sergeant, and he spat on the ground in disgust.
    We didn't have enough rope among us to manage four nooses and lines, so we made do with two. We unzipped the Rangers' flies and pulled their cocks out to help us decide the order in which we'd string them up.
    The hairy-chested Sergeant and a dark-haired, drop-dead handsome fucker of a private had the biggest dicks, so they got the honor of going first.
    We found an oak branch thick enough to hold two 190 pound studs. Both fuckers got noosed at the same time and looked at each other, then at their two Army buddies waiting their turn in the nooses.
    One of them, the dark-haired handsome private looked kind of scared and uncertain, but the Sergeant just spat on the ground and seemed to take it all in stride, as if it were just one more duty -- his last.

My men hoisted their death-ropes and tied them off to the trunk of the oak so we could watch the Rangers dangle and strangle. They had real thick necks, so they struggled like that for a half-hour or more -- real pretty like.
    After a while, I thought we ought to get things moving so I had a couple of our guys grab their legs and drop their weight on them. That dug the rope into their necks, what with twice as much weight on them and they made a gulping sound and a kind of wheeze just before the rope closed off their gullets.
    Then they started kicking something fierce, wriggling away from my guys' grip. They both grabbed on again, but I told them they'd done their job -- the rope was good and dug in, it would only be a matter of time now. So we watched them again.
    Their bare chests were covered with sweat and tight, with those deep grooves body builders go for -- I think they call it "striation", but I'm not sure. Anyway, their chests were real tight, the muscles bulging and straining with the frustrated desire to breathe, flex, and expand.
    Their thick arm muscles bulged too, and I could tell they were struggling to break the rope that tied their wrists -- but you can't bust a Marine knot that easily.
    Both men got hard-ons as they died, and toward the end of their struggling first the younger guy, the private, then the hairy-chested stud of a Sergeant spurted big loads out of their stiff dicks. Their cum flew out in splotches on the ground at first, then their last spurts dripped down onto their Army boots.
    The Sergeant's head was canted to the side, his neck all twisted out of shape and longer than it had been ... you know what I mean?
    The dark-haired private died with his face tilted downward, like he was looking at his hard-on. And he wasn't the only one looking at it, let me tell you. That fucker had one hell of a dick on him. He should have gone into the Marines.

We watched them twist slowly in their nooses for a while, their stiff dicks slicing the air as they rotated. I wanted to make damn sure those bastards were dead before we took them down. Otherwise, we'd have to waste ammo putting a round into each of their no-good skulls.
    After about another ten, fifteen minutes I was satisfied we'd done our job and the Rangers were dead. "Your turn!" I told the other two soldiers, the ones with medium-sized cocks hanging out of their cammie trousers.
    They weren't nearly as co-operative as the first two, and after we lowered their buddies to the ground and de-noosed them, we had to shove the remaining two fuckers and kick them in the nuts and in their asses a few times before we got them into place.
    We put the same two nooses on them that had been used to hang their buddies only a few minutes earlier. After we made sure their hands were tied tight, we had them stand on the chests of the two dead guys. That was a nice touch -- I don't know who thought of it, but I liked it. Made more of a show of it.
    Then we grabbed the legs of the two Rangers we'd just hanged and jerked the carcasses out from underneath the noosed meat.
    At the same time we pulled the ropes tight and tied them to the trunk of the oak tree. Both men were privates with close-cropped hair, one blond the other red.
    The redhead was only about 21, I'd say. He had freckles on his shoulders and pale skin stretched over bulging pecs and a nice, six-pack belly. His dog-tags jangled against his hard body.
    The blond guy was in his mid-20's and had broad shoulders, slab pecs, and a rounded belly with a muscular crease from his sternum to his navel. When you punched him in the gut, though, it was obvious his belly was also hard as rock.
    I figured it was kind of a shame to waste fine specimens of American manhood like this, but they should have had the balls or the brains or whatever to win the maneuver instead of getting captured. This was the way the game was played. We all had to do our duties.
    The redheaded piece of shit called me a "fucking dick-head Marine" while he was waiting for me to drop him in his noose, so I reached into his open fly and grabbed a big handful of his fleshy nut-sac. I squeezed it real hard while I jerked his sex-meat out of his pants and twisted it around nearly a full turn.
    He yelled like a son-of-a-bitch while I grinned up at him and kept tugging on his balls. My boys pulled the dead Ranger out from under him and jerked on the hanging rope while I still held his balls in my hand, pulling him off the corpse of his buddy to dangle and strangle like the piece of dead fuck-meat he was soon to be.

The other Army fuck, the athletic blond guy, got a swift kick in the ass while they pulled the hairy-chested Sergeant out from under him. He had left muddy boot prints on the Sergeant's handsome chest.
    The blond guy got an instant hard-on when he started to choke and kick. He had a wide-eyed look of surprise on his face that made me chuckle. It was like he was saying to himself "Gee, I didn't think hanging would feel like this!!"
    He stuck his tongue out as his face darkened to red and then purple. His shoulders scrunched and then straightened out over and over again as part of his death throes, and his dog-tags slapped against his hard, sweaty chest as he swung.
    One of my Marine privates said "Five bucks says this fucker won't shoot!" and he had three immediate takers.
    The Marine underestimated the prowess of his Army opponent, however, and lost his wager. Even though his dick was less than magnificent, the young blond stud fired seven impressive shots of Ranger cum out of it right as he was dying.

I held onto that redheaded Ranger's nut-sac the whole time he hanged. The bastard tried to kick me a couple of times, but he always missed. I used my grip on his nut-sac to pull the little shit down farther in his noose, increasing the pressure on his neck and making him go out with some pretty intense ball pain.
    His dick swelled like a cock usually does when a man hangs, but because of the attention I was giving his nuts, his dick never got fully erect.
    After he stopped kicking and was just drooling slobber down onto his chest and belly, I let go of his nuts, figuring he couldn't feel the pain any more. He twisted slowly in his death-rope, his head tilted slightly to the right.
    After a couple of minutes a stream of yellow piss flowed out of his cock as he emptied his bladder in death. His dead friend, the blond fucker, kept his erection even after he was dead. I guess those Army guys figure there's some decent fuck-meat in Hell.

I had my Marines fish the Rangers' discarded shirts out of their fox-hole, then I ripped the stripes off the dead Sergeant's uniform to keep as a souvenir. It's an extra feather in your cap if you can finish off a Sergeant or a Lieutenant. Can you imagine how proud some fucking Ranger would be to have my stripes in his pocket and show them off to his buddies after he'd strung me up?
    Not that it'll ever happen to us, but if it does, do me a favor, buddy, and punch the mother-fucker in the mouth for me. I'll do the same for you.

t was right nice of the boys to dig that trench of a fox-hole for us. We tore their dog-tags off their chests and dragged their shirtless carcasses over to the edge of the hole. Then we rolled them in on top of each other.
    The Sergeant went in last, landing belly down on top of that pretty-faced dark-haired private who had hanged beside him. The Sarge's cock was still hard and sticking out of his fly when we rolled his carcass into the grave, and we all got a laugh out of seeing that he ended up in a butt-fucking position on top of his fellow Ranger. "Let 'em fuck each other to Hell!" I told my guys.

There was a pretty fierce stink coming out of that hole, and we realized that those poor bastards had been pinned down in that trench so long that it had to double as their latrine. We ended up filling it in and burying the Rangers with their own piss and shit.
 

Well, that's about all that's happened on this end recently. We're all looking forward to another maneuver next week, when we take on some Rangers who've just returned from active duty in Kuwait. We hear they're mean sons-of-bitches with a lot of tough experience under their belts, so this match-up should be interesting, to say the least.
    If you don't hear from me again in a couple of weeks, well, it might mean I ended up with a chest full of Ranger bullets or -- who knows, even my balls stuffed in my mouth and a goddamn rope around my gullet.
    Fuck, I guess about all a guy can hope for is to go out shooting a Marine-sized load of cum before they rip the dog-tags off my chest and the stripes off my sleeve.

Semper fi!
 

 

xxx
12-11-00xxxxx
 


Sgt. Mark T. Francis, USMC

Hey there, Marine. I saw a copy of the letter your buddy Rob sent to you about a month ago, and I just thought I'd follow up. He and his Marines had a pretty good time working over some Rangers, as you'll remember. You may also remember that he finished with telling you about a new group of Rangers, just back from Kuwait. Well, I'm one of them and I'm here to tell you what happened when we got here.

Back in Kuwait, we were into deep penetration. That's what Rangers do. We took long sweeps into enemy territory, scouting out their forces and seeing what they might be planning. We could never take prisoners, because there was no way to take them back with us. At the same time, though, we needed to talk to some of them, and a couple of my boys could speak the language. They didn't want to talk, of course, but they always did, sooner or later. They say that the Koran tells those ragheads that they will go to heaven if they get killed in battle, and their heaven is full of good stuff like wine and pretty girls. Let's just say that if any of those we ran across did get to heaven, they sure weren't going to be able to satisfy the girls by the time we sent them on their way, if you know what I mean.

Anyway, we checked in to the maneuver area and had the usual week or so to look around and get our bearings and such so we wouldn't be at too much disadvantage against guys who had been there before. We had some time off at night, and we'd go over to the beer hall and hoist a few brews and talk over old times.

About the second night we went over, I saw a squad of Marines with their Sergeant. He was one of the most handsome men I have ever seen, strong, pretty tall and very muscular, but in a working sort of way, not like a bodybuilder magazine model. His blond hair was cut into just a thin oval cap on top of his head, which was otherwise shaved clean in a typical gung-ho Marine "high and tight," and his men all copied his style. His slate blue eyes twinkled as he talked and joked with his men, but I knew that they could harden up like flint if he was angry. I could tell from the way his men looked at him that they just about worshiped him like some kind of God. Shit, my guys never looked at me like that, but I can do without it as long as they do what I tell them.

He noticed me looking at him and he waved me over, so I sat down beside him while his Marines and my Rangers eyed each other like dogs sniffing each other before they decide whether or not to fight. We chatted a bit about our respective experiences, which were roughly the same, except that this was my first time in the maneuver area while he had already fought some other Rangers here. His cocky grin was enough to tell me that he had won.

Over the next few days, I got to know Rob pretty well, and later one night he showed me his copy of the letter he sent to you. He told me it was only fair that I should know what I would be up against, and I told him that we would hold our own. He also showed me the set of Sergeant's stripes he had taken off a dead Ranger, and then glanced at my similar stripes. It was an obvious challange, but it would remain to be seen whether he would get mine or I would get his.

A few days later, we were out in the field. We had been dropped off at midnight to get a little distance from the starting areas before combat was supposed to begin at first light. Rob didn't know about the night stalking glasses I had brought along. They were not supposed to be part of our equipment, but part of the rules of the game were that anything goes, so I brought them. Fuck it. Following the rules can get a guy killed. Not too long after midnight, we had really hauled ass to get near their drop-off point and we were ready for them. They marched off in single file, checking all around carefully, but we could see them with our night glasses but they couldn't see us. One by one, we picked them off, grabbing each tail-end man in turn around the mouth so he couldn't yell and quickly slitting his throat. It was too easy. They were all pretty young, but maybe the smarter guys would be near the front of the column. Finally there were only four of them left when Rob figured out something was wrong and they quickly went into perimeter defense and started shooting when they saw movement. I didn't want to get it that way, so we backed off and waited for dawn.

While we waited, A couple of my boys asked for permission to go back and check out the dead Marines we had left along the trail. They said he wanted to strip them of anything useful like food or weapons, but I knew them too well. They liked to fuck dead guys, and since Marines mostly like to get fucked, my boys were going to send them down to Hell with their asses full of Ranger come. Well, that was OK. I was planning to send the remaining Marines the same way, with their Sergeant bringing up the rear.

By dawn, we had them surrounded and both sides started shooting a little, just to liven things up. More to the point, I wanted

to find out exactly where they were, and their return fire helped me to pinpoint their positions. Of course they moved around

some, but our line around them was tight enough so they couldn't move far. Finally, I was pretty sure of their positions and gave the orders to my guys. At my count-down, six of us tossed stun grenades at the Marines. Now those stun grenades were another thing I wasn't supposed to have, but they did the trick. We rushed their position and sure enough, none of those Marines could do anything about it until they were looking down Ranger rifle barrels. There were four of them, they were ours and now our fun would really begin.

We herded them together, looking sheepish at having been caught so easily, and each with his hands behind his head, fingers interleaved. Rob looked especially chagrined, as well he might, but he didn't say anything. We found a small clearing surrounded by fair sized trees and then selected four of the trees. Each Marine was taken to one of the trees to stand with his back to it, then his wrists were pulled behind the tree and tightly bound. Just to make sure they got the point, I had my boys tie one end of a longer piece of rope to each man's wrists, toss the other end over a limb of the tree, then haul away so the Marine's arms were twisted upward which would hurt a lot and keep them from getting any ideas about getting loose.

Confident they were all secure, I walked over to Rob and pulled out a little knife I have which has a surgical steel blade, sharp as any scalpel. I waved it in front of his face, thinking to scare him a little but that didn't work. He just looked calmly at me, knowing he was as good as dead, but tough to the bitter end. I reached over to one of his arms and started cutting the threads which held his stripes on his sleeve, then ripped them off, then did the same with the other arm. I checked his pockets and found the stripes which had belonged to the dead Ranger, and put them all in my own pocket, souvenirs of victory.

I wanted to loosen them up a bit, take the fight out of them, teach them that they had no chance to fight back, so we started with rifle butts. A rifle butt makes a good weapon for this sort of thing, especially when applied with pretty good force to a guy's guts and balls. My boys were enthusiastic, for it wasn't often they had a chance to work over Marines like this, and the ragheads hadn't really been much fun. I kept Rob for myself, leaving the other three to my boys. I knew he wouldn't break easily, but just rammed my rifle butt into his guts again and again, then for a surprise, brought it up between his legs and mashed his balls. We kept this up for half an hour or so, not hitting hard enough to kill, yet, but enough to hurt a lot. He managed not to yell through all this, but I could see the pain in his face. Meanwhile, the other Marines just couldn't take it. One was screaming in pain, another just sobbing, and the third had passed out and hung limp against his tree.

I decided they had had enough and had my men untie one of the young Marines. He flopped to the ground, but then struggled to his feet in response to kicks from my guys. I ordered him to strip, which he did slowly at first, then faster as we urged him along. He was a pretty boy, probably only 18 or 19, with very short blond hair on top of his head and blue eyes and the dark camouflage paint on his face streaked by his tears from the beating he taken already. When he was naked, he looked nice, slender and willowy, but with enough muscle to look like a man. He looked around, scared, not knowing what to expect but knowing that it would be bad, as his buddies looked on helplessly. I glanced around at my expectant men, then picked one of them.

"OK, Jeff, you know what to do."

"Sure do, Sarge, and thanks."

He did indeed, stepping up to the terrified, naked young Marine and punching him in the guts. He was already too hurt and shocked to even try to defend himself, then he crumpled to the ground. Jeff quickly kicked him over, face down, then with a big smile, slowly pulled out his stiffening cock. He squatted, then lay down over the waiting Marine, then forced his cock into the young ass, fucking hard, ramming deep, hurting the tender flesh. The young Marine didn't seem surprised, though, and soon began to respond, humping his ass in time with the fast fucking strokes and even smiling a bit. True to form, the Marine was enjoying it, liking to get fucked hard. I stood next to Rob, still tied to his tree, watching the rape of one of his men with tight clenched jaws.

"Did you fuck him, too?" I asked.

"Oh yeah, he really likes it. So do most of my boys, for that matter."

I reached down and gently stroked his semi-hard cock, reaching far down inside his pants.

"Yeah, I bet they love having that long dong up their asses, like good Marines."

Jeff was reaching his climax, slammed a last thrust as deep as he could reach, then sprawled, exhausted across the Marine. I decided it was time to let the others have a chance and gave some orders. The other two young Marines were untied and both of them stripped quickly, as though eager to have their own asses fucked, then they were both tied again to their trees, but facing them this time, arms around the trunk, wrists drawn up taut. My boys lined up, waiting to fuck one or another, or maybe all, of the Marines, and I knew we had a long day ahead of us. I called Jeff over, since he had finished his first fuck, and together we let Rob down, waited while he stripped, and then hauled him up, facing his tree. I noticed his cock was even stiffer, now, hanging down and out and at least 12 inches long. I could see why his men loved him so much, having a cock like that to fuck them with. He was obviously turned on, seeing the mass rape of his men and figuring out what was to happen to him, but I wanted him all to myself. I hadn't had my dick up a nice firm ass like that for a long time, and I was planning to make the most of my opportunity, even though my dick wasn't quite as long as his.

He was nice and tight, making me work for it, even after I had greased up my cock tip with some lubricant, feeling the slight resistance, then breaking through, then sliding far up inside him. I pulled almost out, then rammed in again, harder this time, then again and again, fucking him with ever increasing power as my lust took control, making me want to pour my hot Ranger cream up his tight Marine ass. All too soon, I shot load after load into him, then slowly drew out.

I looked around at my guys, still happily fucking or waiting their turns, knowing this would go on for some time. I stripped to the waist as I waited a few minutes for my nuts to recharge, then went back to fuck Rob again, enjoying to the fullest the feeling of his strong muscular back against my chest and the warm sweat between as I fucked him again, slower and easier this time, as I wanted to make it last. Again, I shot my load into him, then eased out and relaxed.

By this time, it looked as though all my guys had fucked at least once, but I could see they were still eager for more, so I let them keep at it as I sat down for a smoke and pondered just how to do what I knew was to come. I saw Jeff looking around and called him over and told him what to do. He walked back into the woods and came back carrying a dozen switches, pieces of young flexible wood about three feet or so long. He passed them around and my boys had some fun, beating the Marines across the back, ass and thighs, leaving long, red welts each time they laid a line of liquid fire across the smooth tanned skin. The Marines didn't like that much, and neither did Rob, when I lashed him several dozen times, but he didn't say anything. Lashing him like that got me stirred up enough to fuck him again, though, and I enjoyed it again, thinking of beating that strong, handsome, rugged body.

The men were getting a bit tired by now, and I told a couple of them off to dig a rectangular hole in the middle of the clearing, with the other guys taking turns. Everyone knew what the hole was for, but nobody said anything about it, as it grew deeper, until finally I could only see the tops of the heads of the guys down there digging. I had thought about making the Marines do the digging, but their ass holes were too popular and I figured my guys wouldn't mind doing it, knowing they could get another poke at a Marine ass when their shift of digging was done.

It was getting to be late afternoon, and I wanted to wrap this up before dark. Besides, by now everyone was pretty exhausted, all of the Rangers stripped to the waist, and some even stripped to shorts. I liked the look of rippling muscles and beads of sweat glistening on their skin, still tanned from the desert where we had been fighting.

I decided that the cute young Marine who still lay on the ground, to accommodate those who liked to fuck lying down instead of standing up, would go first. One of the guys tied his wrists behind his back, then led him near a tree. The rope which had before held up his hands now was looped over a branch reaching out into the clearing, and a noose had been tied in one end. The young Marine stood still as Jeff put the noose over his head, then pulled it snug around his slender neck. He was scared, dirty, sweat-streaked, exhausted, still carrying the welts from his whipping, but he somehow managed to stand proud and tall with his cock standing straight out and twitching with excitement as he waited to die. He looked pained as Jeff jerked his dog tags, breaking the chain and ripping away the last symbol of his identity as a Marine. I wondered idly if he had ever thought it would come to this when he had marched in his graduation parade from boot camp, happy and proud in his dress blue uniform.He obviously didn't expect what came next, though, as Jeff stepped close to him with a long Ranger knife in his hand. Jeff reached down and grabbed the kid's cock and balls in one hand and with a quick stroke of his knife, severed them completely, then held them up for all to see. The boy almost fell, but the noose supported him and he managed to stand upright, choking and gasping. Jeff took the bloody cock and balls and stuffed them into the kid's mouth, forcing it wide open, while he struggled wildly and a look of horror crossed his dirty face. He was obviously choking on his own cock which had been rammed partly down his throat, but three of my guys hauled on the far end of the rope and lifted his feet off the ground, so the noose began to strangle him as well. He swung back and forth, twisting around, kicking hard and struggling wildly. His buddies were staring, horrified, guessing the same end would come to them. Rob still said nothing, but his heavy breathing indicated the emotion he must be feeling as he watched his pretty fuck-boy Marine die slowly on the end of a rope.

We had brought along plenty of rope, so we left him hanging there as we proceeded to hang the other two young Marines, one at a time, so we could watch and enjoy their agonized struggles as each in turn lost his dog tags, then his cock and balls which were forced into his mouth, then was hauled up to hang by the neck, thrash around, kicking and jerking in their bonds, then die. Rob had trained them well, though, and there were no complaints, no begging, as they accepted what was coming to them.

Then there was only Rob. He knew what was coming, of course, but he managed to take it like the man he was and stand still not even fighting it as his wrists were bound behind him and I placed the noose around his strong, muscular neck. He would take a long time to die, I knew, with a leatherneck like that.

I had a little extra surprise for him, though. It just wasn't right that he should follow his men to the grave and to Hell beyond without the symbol of his rank. I pulled out my little sharp knife and slowly, carefully, carved a set of Sergeant's stripes on each of his bare arms, the blood oozing from the cuts, then running down his arms and dripping to the ground. He couldn't help but wince a bit as I was cutting him, but he still managed to keep from screaming with the pain he must be feeling, and I marvelled at that, wondering if I would be able to keep similarly quiet when my time came to face torture and death. When I was through with that, I jerked off his dog tags, too, to add to the others in my little collection.

My sharp knife made quick work of what it was designed to do, castrate a man and remove his cock and balls. Even with all the pain and suffering and the sight of his boys dangling, now still and dead, his cock was semi-hard, a good foot in length and fat around. It was a tough fit to ram it into his mouth, forcing the long cock down his throat, but it shrank and wilted a bit as

the engorging blood gushed out of it. Finally it was all inside, his mouth still wide open and dripping with blood and the raw bloody flesh of his private parts where they had been cut away.

I gave a nod and four of my guys hauled away, lifting him off the ground, letting him swing and kick, struggling uselessly.

I was right. It did take a long time, and we settled down to watch as he fought the noose which was slowly choking and strangling him and the blood dribbled out of his mouth, his crotch, the cuts on his arms and various other wounds he had picked up during the day. He kicked and jerked hard and we could see his strong muscles rippling and bulging through his bloody, tanned skin as he fought for his life, trying hard to break his hands free or find some foothold. Nothing worked for him, though, and we all enjoyed watching that beautiful death-struggle, knowing he was going to die but trying his damndest to last as long as he could.
 

It was nearly half an hour before his valiant heart finally stopped beating and he hung still, like his three Marine fuck-boys. We let them down, removed the ropes from around their necks to save for another time, then unceremoniously dumped them into the hole, face down. Two lay on the bottom, lying opposite ways so one's feet were beside the other's head. Then we dumped

the other two on top of the first, with Rob lying there as though he was fucking the cute young Marine who had been first to die. I stood beside the grave, looking down at the naked bodies and thought a little about the men I had just killed, especially about Rob. He was certainly one of the finest men I had ever

known, and I had liked him a lot. I was kind of sad to have killed him, but that's way it goes, we all have to do things we don't like once in awhile. I gave an order and the dirt poured down on them, one quick shovel-full after another until the hole was full. We stomped on the loose dirt to pack it down as well as we could, then smoothed it over, then left it, knowing that no would investigate or care. The four would be written off the books somehow or other, that wasn't my affair. Someone else would come along and pick up the other Marines who had died easily with slit throats. I wanted to get back to the base and drink a lot of good cold wet beer.

Well, Sgt. Francis, now you know how your buddy Marine died. He died well, I have never seen anyone better, and he took more punishment better than anyone I have ever known. I will be here with my troops for another month or so. Do you think you could arrange to get assigned here, maybe with a squad of Marines? I'd like to have a shot at fucking another Marine ass and of course I know my boys would, too. I have two sets of stripes in my pocket, and of course you and I each have a set on our sleeves. How about it, Sarge, winner take all?

Ranger, U. S. Army