Drill Sergeant Clay Norris has his military life running right on schedule. Career focused he appreciates that he joined up when his sexuality is at least acknowledged under Don’t Ask, Don’t tell, even if he doesn’t get to act on his urges as much as he likes.
In formation with his new trainee group he locks eyes with Chevrolet Banks and his life, their lives, are changed forever.
Dog Tagged is an insta love military romance based on real life incidents.
The 1972 made-for-television movie Tribes terrified me.
Set in a Marine Corp bootcamp the movie stars the breathtakingly handsome Jan Michael Vincent, which is why I was watching anyway, as a hippy recruit, Darrin McGavin and square jawed Earl Holliman as tough-as-nails Drill Sergeants instructors.
While raised around the military and military bases, my father was a civilian contractor on an Air Force base and all my male relatives save for my younger brother had or were serving in the military, I had no interest in joining the service.
Especially after seeing Tribes. Even the promise of possibly seeing a JMV look alike in breezy white boxers live would not have been inducement enough to have me join the military, let alone the Marines.
The rest of this post could be written arguing the glory of Robby (sigh….) Benson vs JMV but this is about my book, Dog Tagged, and the point of the story.
Which are rights, basic human rights.
While the other members of my family (male and female) had the right to join the military I did not, based on my sexual orientation.
Some years after Tribes I was still in rural (the most rural possible) America and had no where to go. The small high school I had graduated from offered no encouragement toward college for anyone. The few low paying jobs in the area were few and far between, so with grit teeth I tried to suppress memories of Tribes (well, except for the good parts with JMV) and lied my way into the U.S. Army.
There was a question on the entry form, Are you a homosexual?. I knew, of course, that my sexual orientation was toward other guys, but it was 1976 and I was in rural America. There was no way I was “liberating” myself at that age. Although two years later in the middle of my time in service I had pretty much come out complete with boyfriend and nights at various disco’s off post.
But I had proven myself a good soldier, despite the tough basic training (and it was tough, our Drill Sergeants were not long out of Vietnam) I had been promoted before leaving basic and continued to work my way up the ladder of rank.
Yet I still could not announce my true sexuality.
Illegal.
To be who I am.
Despite promotions, rank and a stack of letters of commendation I could have been thrown into the brig and out of the Army with a less than honorable discharge.
Drill Instructor Clay Norton has joined the Army on the cusp of change, there has been a segue from being gay in the Army being illegal to Don’t ask, Don’t tell-meaning you can accept who you are, you just cannot acknowledge who you are.
Like some religions which allow leaders and members to be gay, out and proud if they do not act on it.
No one joins the military to date, Clay had no intention of using his time in service to hit on guys, he had enough of that in his civilian life, but the economics of life led him to a life in the military so he settles for what is better than being illegal, which is Don’t ask, Don’t tell.
When he locks eyes with a new recruit Clay begins to find it harder to live under the DaDt ruling. His yearning for Chevrolet Banks grows until they are town apart and he must face life without the man his soul has chosen.
Fate, however, has a way intervening.
After another jolt in his world Clay runs as far from love and acceptance as he can, putting himself in harms was to try and forget the life he had chosen.
Ok, more than one, but like Clay I had not joined the Army to date, also like Clay some dating happened because I was not the only young gay man who had lied his way into the service as a way out.
The military has come a long way, with still more to go. Gay men and Lesbians who are out can join the military our trans brothers and sisters still are riding the waves of being in/out. Equality is for everyone, all Americans without limit.
Dog Tagged, a story based on true moments from my own time in the service, reflects the frustration, caution and stress gay and lesbian military soldiers have always had to live under.
I did have crushes while in the service and met at least one G.I. who made my heart seize up just like it did when I saw Jan Michael Vincent on the screen.
I won’t say that there was an afternoon in the barracks shower between us that made a lot of dreams of mine come true because that would be telling something you did not ask about.
But Thanks Roy, if you are reading this. Now when I occasionally go back online and watch Tribes the terror I felt watching it all those years ago is softened by the memory of that October Saturday afternoon.
James is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour – enter via Rafflecopter:
I did let the hot salesman give me a quick kiss on the cheek in the changing room and tried to forget the warmth of his lips as I headed out to the clubs and got some dance and further drink on, always bearing in mind that I was an officer now and had some decorum to maintain.
Okay, all that means is that I got pretty wasted.
And that I danced with all comers. I was quickly stripped out of that cute little shirt salesman Evan had put me in, my training ripped body giving me pick of the litter. Not last call litter, not still breathing and leftover litter. Porn star guys (REAL porn star guys) were fighting over me, actual pushing and shoving, it was quite the scene, the knot of men who had surrounded this former Drill Instructor.
At some point I looked up to see the smiling face of Evan the clerk from the clothing store next to me, an arm thrown protectively thrown around my shoulder. His sweet smile was the brightest of the lot, I latched onto him like an octopus gripping a clam.
I have no idea how long the revelry went on or how I got back to the hotel.
Let alone what might have happened there.
The next morning I woke not feeling well at all. Slick with sweat, sick to my stomach I rolled my head on the pillow slowly, not knowing what kind of guy I was going to find next to me. Thankfully the pillow was empty, as was the bed, although the blankets were mussed enough to let me know someone had recently nested there. Carefully lifting myself I checked the floor and was relieved to see no other bodies in the room.
But at that moment the bathroom door opened and a figure came out.
Evan, blond and sunny, cute as the night before in tattered jean and a faded green t shirt with a cracked and worn logo on it stepped into the darkened room.
“Hey buster, didn’t think you’d be up for a while,” he said with a giggle in his voice.
Flopping down onto the chair across the room he slipped his feet into athletic shoes and laced them. “Or should I be calling you Lieutenant Buster?” he added with a nod toward my dress uniform hanging neatly in the closet.
“Just call me a time machine man, I wanna go back about twelve hours and start over again.” I sighed from the bed. “What the fuck happened….”
“What didn’t happen is the better question,” Even said evenly. “you were wined and dined, if you count the bag of Dorito’s you were given to strap on like a feed bag dining, given drinks and very nearly given drugs and taken to other clubs and there was talk of taking you to that skeezy bath house connected to the dance club, but you wouldn’t go anywhere without me once I had been spotted. You seemed to be quite taken with modest little moi and since I refused to go to that bathhouse everyone was trying to get you to go to I finally got you back here where there were more drinks and salty snacks then there was some crying….” he trailed off. “I’ve ordered room service for you; hope you don’t mind.”
“Wait. Wait, wait.” I said using a nearly Drill Sergeant size voice as the handsome young man stood, “I need the whole story.”
About that time there was a knock at the door; Evan let room service in, signing the check. “You are a good tipper, just so you know,” he grinned while pushing the tray of food over toward me on the bed then pouring coffee. He motioned for me to eat then sat back down. “I was going out anyway so when I closed up I came over to the club and there you were, gaily lit as a Christmas tree and surrounded by faeries more headstrong and stubborn than Tinkerbell all out to get a piece of the hottest man in the city. Not the bar, the city. And I’m not just saying that because I am the one who ended up sleeping with you.”
I guess I looked up at him like a deer in head lights.
“Stop, don’t flatter me. I’ve got it going on but I’m not ripped like you. Word was out that there was a military hottie on the hoof in the club and every muscle queen and gym bunny in town showed up to audition as your hook-up for the night. I think guys were flying in from LA and San Francisco trying to get to you,” the blond smiled.
“So you brought me back here and we….” I said, mouth full of egg. The food was going down smoother than I expected it would.
“I didn’t get in the way of your fun too much, I just kept an eye on you. Until they started to undress you and began offering you pills, powders and potions.”
I felt myself shudder and freeze.
“Don’t worry. I didn’t let them. I just brought you back here, where you insisted on another drink or ten. Then you got weepy and I held you and let you talk about a car until you fell asleep. I dunno, everyone has a kink or two, but I’ve never heard anyone rhapsodize about a vehicle the way you went on and on about your Chevy last night.”
I was really embarrassed then.
I let a silence settle between us before taking a sip of scalding hot coffee and replying.
“Not a car, a guy,” I whispered.
“I fell off a turnip truck but that was a long time ago,” he smirked while reaching over and snagging a crisp piece of bacon off my plate and began chewing on it, “I figured as much.” Evan said with true kindness in his voice. “I had a brother in the Army and knew you were just blowing off some steam. Those wolves would have eaten you and I like to think someone would have looked after my brother the same way. Nothing happened between us.”
“That would have been the best part of the night it sounds like,” I managed, no longer interested in the food.
“You were a hot mess, but I am very glad you are alright. Now I’ve gotta go to work. If you are in town for a while here is my card.” With that Evan produced a business card with his name, number and e mail on it. “Use it at will.” he slipped the card on the breakfast tray then slid his arms around my body, giving me a very nice hug.
“Leaving tomorrow, but some other time without question.”
Stopping at the closet on his way out he reached in and touched the sleeve of my dress uniform.
“Are you going over?”
“Soon.”
There was a slight pause before he broke his eyes form the uniform.
“Be safe. E mail and let me know how you are. Promise?”
“Promise, and thanks. Is your brother back?” there was a pause before Evan answered Yesin such a quiet way that I knew the way his brother had come home.
“I’m sorry,” was all I had time to say before the cute blond turned and gave me a wan smile and slipped out of the room.
James Brock is an Amazon number one best selling author, with fifteen M/M romance novels published and two family autobiographies.
Once upon a time he sold comedy to Joan Rivers and Phyllis Diller, was published in every gay men’s magazine on the market (when there was a market, those dinosaurs were killed off by DVD, which were in turn eaten by streaming and on demand…), the Seattle Gay News and Seattle Standard and essays with the late great Alyson Publications.
James lives in Seattle.
Author Website: JamesBrockBooks.com
Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/Men-Overboard-100109810041126/
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