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Tuesday night, somewhere in Eastern Pennsylvania, USA. 1805 hours.
"CADETS! FALL OUT!"
On the pavement of the local airport, two dozen booted feet pivoted at once. The group of assembled cadets bellowed as one voice, "TWO-ONE-FOUR!"
And with that, the evening's activities commenced. The cadets of Civil Air Patrol, 31st wing, squadron 214, strode purposefully towards their baracks building as the evening sun faded into the horizon. Each wore woodland camouflage BDUs with fluorescent orange hats emblazoned with "214" on the front, and spit-shined black leather boots.
Cadet Airman First Class Chad Thompson stepped through the door and removed his cover. He had long stoped calling it a "hat" ever since asking the question to one of the cadet officers, "why do we call it a cover and not a hat?" The answer had been a very gruff, "Because you don't 'hat' your head, cadet. You COVER it!" Followed by a very intense PT session.
Like the rest of the squadron, Chad was a teenager. 14 to be exact, although he looked younger. Civil Air Patrol is often jokingly described as "scouts on steroids." A place where teens receive some legitimate military training, and should they enlist upon graduation, they can also potentially skip a couple of early ranks. As the Auxiliary to the Air National Guard, they follow Air Force ranking structure and insignia.
After a meeting, where a senior member (adult officer who volunteers their time to the program) gave a brief lecture to the squadron, they were sent out to the evening's activity. Tonight, they would be practicing search and rescue operations. The group of cadets stepped through the meeting room door into the hangar, where their squadron's Cessna 182 was parked. This plane was used for airborne search and rescue, as well as regional airspace patrol.
Two cadet officers, 1st Lieutenants Andy Greenwood, and Brenden Borden, both 16, were carrying the Stokes Basket from it's storage area to the open hangar door. The cadets fell in line and walked outside and over to the adjacent field. By now the sun was down and Chad needed to let his eyes adjust to the darkness.
The group stopped and the two officers set down the basket, which contained all the nylon webbing needed, as well as a roll of duct tape. Chad bit his lower lip at the sight. He looked around, and saw the looks from his fellow cadets. He knew he was about to get volunteered to be the "victim."
"Cadet Thompson!" Lt. Greenwood bellowed, "Go get yourself lost in that field!"
"Yes sir!" Chad called back.
The rest of the squadron turned to face the hangar, and Chad ran out into the dark field. He already knew what he was coming. Not that he minded. He had been playing tie up games with his father and younger brothers for a few years now. A year earlier, his dad had tied all three of them up for an entire day. He had no real complaints about being the "patient" for the squadron's training.
Chad laid down in a small divet in the ground, removing his orange cover to lay on top of it. He wasn't going to make this easy on his squadron! Sure enough, they were walking across the field in a search line formation. They were spaced out with one person every 5 yards. No one called for him, or asked him to call out. He was supposed to be unconscious. In minutes, somebody has passed only two feet from him.
"FIND!" the cadet called, taking a knee beside Chad. "Row 6!"
The rest moved close while Chad laid still, trying not to laugh. The basket was brought over and set beside him. A couple of the others began checking his vitals. Oddly, despite all of them being teenagers, they all took the process seriously. This instilled a sense of trust in Chad, and he was able to relax.
And then, it was time. Four of his peers took him by the shoulders and legs, after checking for broken limbs, and one held his head steady. On a three count, all lifted him effortlessly up and into the Stokes Basket. Chad took some calming breaths to control his excitement for what was about to happen. The others began winding the webbing around the basket and over top of his body, lashing him down securely. The straps formed a snug lattice which rendered movement difficult. And Chad was enjoying it.
"Patient secured sir!" Called one of the cadets called.
"Are you sure?" Lt. Greenwood said, shining a flashlight over Chad's restrained form. "What if the patient wakes up and freaks out?"
Chad could hear the amusement in Andy's voice. Andy Greenwood had certain signals that he was into this too. Chad was in school with Andy's younger sister Danielle. She had recently been the victim of a home invasion, and revealed that she'd been okay because of lots of practice at home. Chad put two and two together, and determined that Andy... Lt. Greenwood... was a Tugger just like him.
Chad decided to comply with Greenwood's suggestion. He groaned and shifted his weight. The straps held him in the basket, but he had some wiggle room. He thrashed his arms around under the webbing and made some incoherent groans.
"Sounds like the patient is not excited to be in the Stokes Basket." One of the other cadets said with a chuckle. It sounded like Tech Sergeant Adler.
"Or maybe he IS!" 1st Lt. Greenwood taunted.
Chad chuckled and rolled his eyes, trying to play along. "Put me down!" He said, in character. "Who are you?"
1st Lt. Borden leaned over the Basket and said, "Remain calm. You're in good hands." He had a smirk, but clearly was playing along.
Andy Greenwood did not share his colleague's professionalism. "Pipe down, cadet. Or we'll use the duct tape."
Chad was not deterred. He squirmed a little bit and tried to roll around. Suddenly, TSgt. Adler leaned down and grabbed Chad's arms.
"Sir, request permission to restrain the patient further!" He said, looking up at Greenwood.
Lt. Greenwood grinned down at them and passed him an extra nylon strap. "Permission granted, Sergeant."
Adler and another cadet began working the extra strap under the basket and the ends were coiled around Chad's wrists. The knots were secured tightly, holding Chad down further.
"Ow, that's kinda tight Sarge." He said, flexing his hand.
"Shut up, Cadet." Adler said, smirking.
Lt. Greenwood knelt down at his head and picked up the duct tape. Chad knew what was coming. And he'd be lying if he said he wasn't into it. He smirked up at his superior as the tape was peeled off the roll. But suddenly, he paused. An evil grin crossed his face.
"Hey Borden," Greenwood said, "grab me a sock or a rag or something."
Lt. Borden laughed. "Used?"
"No way!" Chad said. This earned him a firm hand clamped over his mouth.
"Can it, airman!" Greenwood said. "Do we have a used sock? I think the Captain would approve."
"Debatable." Borden said. "But no. We may be able to get a rag from the hangar to use."
"Someone go get one!" Greenwood ordered.
A cadet immediately bolted across the field to the hangar. Chad protested against the Lieutenant's hand, but the older boy held him firmly. Chad shuddered at the mention of the Captain. This was a senior member, who was a police officer in his regular life. This man had a reputation for having EXTREMELY stinky socks, and a rumor was circulating that he had punished his son and nephew by gagging them with said socks after they'd got in trouble.
Chad did NOT want to be on the receiving end of a similar punishment. Thankfully, the rag his fellow cadet returned with looked clean. TSgt Adler took the rag and wadded it up. Greenwood removed his hand and took the rag from his subordinate.
"Cadet, open up."
oh crap. Chad found himself in a difficult spot. On one hand, he wanted to resist. But Greenwood was a cadet officer, and basically gave him an order. This would not end well if he refused. He wouldn't be court martialed for insubordination, but the consequences would be dire.
"Sir," Chad said through clenched teeth, "is that really necessary?"
A sharp pain shot through his arm, as Lt. Borden punched his shoulder. Both Lieutenants and the Tech Sergeant surrounded him and began shouting down his question. Each making the dreaded "knife hands" gesture.
Chad decided to comply with the order. He opened his mouth and Adler promptly crammed the large wad of cloth home. Moments later, Greenwood roughly lifted his head and wrapped duct tape around Chad's mouth. By now, it had ceased to be first aid training and had devolved into a hazing. And the other cadets present all realized it. They either stayed quiet or vocally supported the process, adding to Chad's humiliation.
As the squadron lifted the Stokes Basket and carried Chad back to the barracks, the bound and gagged cadet began to consider quitting the program. He had to accept his mixed feelings on the situation. After all, he enjoyed being tied up. Always had. But with the exception of Andy Greenwood, these boys did not share his interest. To them, it was just state sanctioned bullying.
The group marched him into the hangar area and set the Stokes Basket on the floor behind the plane. Thankfully they set him down gently, on a three count. Probably because the senior members were in the building and would smoke the whole squadron for mistreatment of equipment if they dropped it. He was left there while they went back into the meeting room.
"Hrrmmph!" Chad screamed into the gag, thrashing around. Being left like this wasn't his idea of a good time either. And the webbing around his wrists was starting to really hurt. His legs were secured under the webbing, but not as tightly. He was able to get a little movement there as he tried to kick himself free. Naturally, it didn't budge. Chad was trapped there for the foreseeable future.
The other cadets eventually returned to set him free. It was close to closing formation and they needed to get Chad out there. As the last of the webbing came off, he ripped the tape off his face and spat the rag on the floor, then went to the bathroom to wash his face. Since he had been hazed, he decided his fellow cadets could clean up the mess. He looked disheveled, his BDU jacket having become wrinkled during his struggling, and he'd be in deep trouble if he stood in formation in such a state.
Chad straightened his uniform and cleaned up, then returned to the hangar to get his previously discarded cover. As he dusted off the orange ballcap, an adult woman's voice called out behind him.
"Cadet Thompson. Is everything all right?"
Chad turned around to see Colonel Wright standing across the hangar floor. She was a tall, slim woman with blonde hair that was starting to grey at the ends, and she'd tied it into a tight bun. She wore the same uniform, but instead of the modified C.A.P. rank insignia, her collar bore an eagle on either side. The REAL colonel rank insignia. She was the squadron's commander.
"No Ma'am." Chad replied, snapping to attention.
Col. Wright narrowed her brown eyes. "Are you sure, cadet Thompson?"
Chad blushed a bit, but held his ground. He would not snitch on his fellow cadets. Even if they were jerks. "Yes Ma'am I'm sure."
"Very well, carry on." Col. Wright said, letting Chad leave.
A few minutes later, Chad was standing at attention outside the barracks, saluting as the flag was lowered for the evening. To his left, he saw his dad's Subaru parked and waiting. He couldn't wait to get home. And maybe play a REAL tie up game with his brothers. Soon, he received the order to "order arms," and the cadets were dismissed. And just as their begging formation ended, all the cadets pivoted 180 degrees on their heels, and bellowed in one voice.
"TWO-ONE-FOUR!"
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THE END
