humiliation

I believe Bob stood watch while I was able to shower. I can’t really remember-it just had to been. The rest of the weeks coming were confusing-and humiliating.

I became the property of nazel voice mister. He was able to strong arm me in any instance and beconing and I was unable to with stand his commands. Anything he needed I was made to get. What ever Bobs situation was-he was’nt there all of the time and so I was easy for the attention I got from nazel voice mister.

I began a series of interviews and at the guidence of Bob I acted unfit and did things to aid in my getting a discharge instead of going to jail…which is what they had threatened me with at some point. To this day-things that sound vague to too incredible to believe keep comeing to truth for me. I always felt that certain things were too incredible to be true-such as the man who first questioned me being an NIA officer…and yet my records confirm these things. Bob started coaching me as to what to say when I saw a shrink or was questioned by other officers and he taught me how to do india ink tattoos-I think to make me look tough and radical-but they did’nt work.

On the second floor of the barracks building was a room which long ago had been intended to stow away sea bags. It was actually a large closet with these deep shelves in it to keep the long bags stowed. On each end of the hall on the second floor was two other barrack areas that were always locked down-but I think certain men from tose barracks were allowed to go in that room. It was a television room then-and the men lay inside the deep shelves built that way for the long sea bags and they would watch this black and white TV set-the only light in the windowless room.

On the first floor opposite barracks D across the quarter masters deck was the matching barracks-but it I believe housed the sailors that were ‘stationed’ at barracks D and the other confined areas. On the first floor off from the quarter masters deck-fairly much across from the quarter masters shack-or office , was a hall way that led into our section-barracks D and at the beginning of that hallway was where the balding feminine man handed out the bedding. I learned his name was ‘Pooch’ because he ‘seduced’ his marks as if he was a dog…crawling on his fours and whimpering. In his area there was floor to ceiling mattress’s and was perfect for his alternate needs. At one corner was the wall that had a hole busted in it-and during ‘Pooches’ seductions -molestations some of the men would watch through that hole just as he watched me the first night. At some point within the first days I became resigned to the fact I was staying there and to keep from getting my arm twisted up behind my back and made to do things I began to just do them as told. Upstairs in the TV room I was traded off between me and another guy-whom did’nt mind any of it and supplied some womans garmets because we were meant to be girls for the men. Other things were crafted-for example…a skirt made out of boxer shorts. There were locker checks and these things would be found and taken and some how return again.

There was several times I was handed over to Pooch by nazel voice mister , every time he would molest me like each time -pretending to be a dog , and usually some one watched through the hole.

Not everyone was interested or involved. For the most part I don’t think anyone knew these things were going on upstairs but could’nt see how it was overlooked at Pooches area-it was right there. Many of the men did’nt even seem to care about anything more less what was going on with me or around them. There were others that were tougher looking individuals that fit right in with the kind of guy nazel voice mister was-but was’nt a part of strong arming me…but did’nt hesitste to hand over some cigerets or cash to nazel voice mister for me or the other ‘girl’. And we were expected to be of service to these men.

Certain noises and certain stinks bring back deja vu feelings of those times. Long after discharge and freedom from the presence of barracks D…but not the remembering day after day….certain things bring back that place and those tasks. And things-suggestion…over power me and I fall to my knees as if its right then again , and submit. How many times I’ve tried to flee , drinking-drugs…and there was barracks D as soon as I saw sober sunlight.

I can’t talk about any more.