We had all been sent by our parents on what was supposed to be a character building exercise. The idea was that we would hike around the Western high desert for a month living only on what we could carry on our backs or harvest from nature. These expeditions, usually called Brat Camps, are extremely popular these days as they give parents a guilt-free way to punish out of control kids as well as giving themselves a much needed vacation from the little bastards. My mother found a letter on my computer addressed to my girl friend in which I told her explicitly what all I wanted to do. Mom freaked out at the idea that her darling little boy was a sex fiend and subsequently booked me on the trip to let things cool off while she flew to the East coast to visit her sister. I’m not much of an outdoorsy type and didn’t think much of the whole idea, but the glossy color brochure depicted a bunch of guys and girls sitting around a campfire holding hands and seemingly enjoying themselves. I was a fifteen-year-old virgin and figured it would be a blast to have any one of those babes to share a sleeping bag with so I reluctantly agreed to the deal. I had to acquire a good pair of hiking boots and attend a first aid class before we left.

Twelve of us were herded into a van in Spokane and driven south into Oregon. There were five guys and seven girls. I sat next to this one really hot chick that spent the whole trip with her hand on my thigh. I think it was the longest time that I ever spent with a boner, and by the time we got to Lakeview I had decided that the trip was going to be a lot of fun. We finally stopped outside of town and were shown to our temporary quarters in some old buildings at the airport. The guys were, that is. The girls stayed in the van and went somewhere else “a long ways away,” according to the counselor that met us. Shit! The trip had just started and was already going to hell.

We were herded into a big room with seven guys who had got there earlier, and were given sleeping bags and told to crash on the floor. The next morning, after a crappy breakfast and a quick shower a local doctor showed up to check us out. Two guys flunked the physical and were sent back home while the rest of us were issued backpacks and cooking gear. Our counselor/guide checked our boots and fitted our backpacks and weighed us each down with thirty pounds of rocks before taking us outside for a five-mile shakedown hike around the airfield perimeter. It was really hot out and two guys crapped out during the hike and were also sent home. The rest of us spent the afternoon learning how to cram all of the food and stuff that we would carry into our packs. In addition to our sleeping bags, freeze dried food, and personal items we were each assigned community items to haul. I had to tote a small shovel that we would use to bury our shit and a tarp to sleep under in the event of rainstorms. Others guys had to carry the hatchet, cook stove, and extra fuel. The next day we went on a ten mike hike wearing our loaded packs, the day after we did first aid and CPR refresher classes, and the following morning a van picked up the remaining eight hikers and our counselor and drove us to the trailhead.

Two of the campers were fifteen, same as me, and four were fourteen. Another guy was seventeen but he didn’t give a shit about girls and didn’t even have a driver’s license let alone know anything about cars, and he seemed even more juvenile than the rest of us.

Our Fearless Leader was a twenty-three year old Boy Scout type named Richard-call me Dick- Rogers. He would come to be called Double-R, Big Dick, Dickhead, Ritchie, Mr. Rogers, and several other names, none of which were meant to convey respect. He had a degree in something like underwater basket weaving and he was working on a Masters in the same discipline. He did know his way around the outdoors though, and despite being very skinny and frail looking he could easily outpace the rest of us even though his pack was much heavier.

After a short hike we set up camp and were told more about what was going on. We would wander around for ten days and then meet with a van that would re-supply us with food, and then we would hike back to our starting point by way of a different route. We could drink freely from any running stream as long as we used our filtration straws, and any water that used for cooking or drinking also had to be pumped through one of the two larger filter units that we carried. No game would be killed for food and we would eat only what we packed and shouldn’t eat any wild berries or plants unless he first okayed it. We could whiz anywhere we wanted so long as we were fifty feet away from water, but all major movements had to be buried at least eighteen inched deep and the shovel had to be returned clean. “When you need other personal relief,” he said, pumping his fist up and down without apparent embarrassment, “go off by yourself so you don’t disturb the others. Don’t mess up your socks or sleeping bags, and please keep it to yourselves. Whatever you may have heard about outings like this, there isn’t going to be any funny stuff or faggotry on this hike.” He had an emergency locator transmitter that could summon help in the event of an emergency, but he could handle any situation that we might get into and he carried the locator only because it was company policy.

I learned an awful lot during the next ten days. The area was called a desert because the evaporation exceeded the precipitation. There were actually a lot creeks and springs and even a few ponds and lakes, but the streams and rivers all ran out into the flats and evaporated instead of running to the sea like a normal river. I learned that rattlesnakes scared the shit out of me but weren’t really a hazard as long as you kept your eyes open. I came to detest the taste of freeze-dried lasagna, and although I was never into veggies I really missed them after about a week of nothing but preserved food and vitamin pills.

I also leaned that I could go four days without jacking off, which was at least double my previous record, and I leaned that Warren, the seventeen year old, was probably gay. Every night after dark at least one guy would take the shovel and go off alone to take an alleged dump, sometimes forgetting to take toilet paper, and Warren would also slip off. He never really tried to come on to me, but he still liked to watch, and I suspected that he had lent a hand to one or two of the younger boys. I also learned that Kevin, another of the fourteen year olds, was prone to talking in his sleep. “Stop, Dad, that hurts!” He’d cry out, and then a little bit later, “I’ll tell Mom!”

The re-supply included a pleasant surprise. It took place at a natural hot spring, and for the first time in ten days we could get really clean. We each took nightly bucket baths, where a small amount of water was used to wash first our faces, then our pits, and finally our crotches before being used to rinse out our socks and undies. It was pure bliss to be able to soak in a pool of hot water and to scrub the shit out of your asshole, even if you did have to share the bath with eight other guys. Dick, Warren, and one of the fourteen year olds were all too modest to strip and elected to wear their skivvies, but the rest of us jumped in bare-assed like a bunch of savages. After getting clean we were treated to fresh corn on the cob, cold milk, and real steak that had been left in the cooler earlier in the morning. The re-supply vehicle itself was long gone, removing the temptation any of us might have to try and hitch a ride and wimp out of the rest of the hike. I didn’t much care. I was much stronger than I had been two weeks ago and could now lope along with Dick without even breaking a sweat, and was actually enjoying the whole experience.

Our fist encounter with the squatter came two days later. We came across an area containing skid marks on the ground from some kind of tractor or something, and a big open area where the trees had been recently cut down. There was a shoddily built little log cabin and a decrepit looking dirt bike leaned up against a small outhouse. This pissed Dick off royally. He said that the whole area was in a preserve where logging and houses were prohibited. We had stopped so he could take some pictures when a guy stepped out of the brush. He dressed in camouflage pants and combat boot and was shirtless. He had a massive chest that was covered with a dense mat of curly black hair, and arms as thick as a normal man’s thighs. “Git your asses out of here right now,” he ordered, using the rifle he carried to give authority to the command. “This here’s my property and you’re tresspass’n.”

Dick, our fearless leader, stuck his ground and hauled out a map that clearly indicated that it was Modoc National Forest land and not private property. The guy just took Dick’s map and wadded it up and threw it in his face. “There’s over five hundred acres of public land for every veteran in this country,” he declared, working the chambering lever on the rifle, “and I’ve decided that this here little parcel is mine. Now git.”

Dick paused for a few seconds and then started in again explaining to the guy that it was public land and that he shouldn’t be cutting trees on it and that we had every right to be there.

“You got a really fine looking ass on you,” the guy said, interrupting Dick’s speech. “I ain’t had no ass in a long time. What say you and me get it on, just to show these young’uns how it’s done. You got a real purty mouth, too. You like to suck? Or how about you and me and that little fart make it a threesome. Nothing better’n a little boy butter now and then, is there? Of course, you know all about that, don’t you?”

It was the first time I’d seen Dick flustered. His face turned beet red and he looked like he was ready to blow up. It didn’t help any that one of the kids had bust out laughing. Dick glared at the guy for a full minute before turning to us. “Let’s get out of here and leave this pervert alone,” he said, then lowered his breath to a whisper. “He’s been fucking sheep for too long.”

We hiked over the next ridge and stopped just as the guy fired up his chainsaw, which pissed Dick off even more. Just around the next corner we came across the guy’s tractor, right where he had parked it after last using it. Dick made us all stop and stand where we were while he walked over to the machine, removed the oil filler cap, and dumped five large handfuls of sand into the crankcase. He then very carefully brushed away his tracks and we continued along. “That’ll fix the asshole he said,” still fuming. “After five minutes of running that machine will go up in smoke, toast.”

Dick ranted about the guy all that day, and was still pissed off when we stopped for the night, although I think that the guy’s insult to Dick’s sexuality hurt more than his destruction of the forest.

I woke up late that night just in time to see Dick leave his sleeping bag and walk to the edge of the clearing to piss. He did that most nights about that time, and it usually woke me up, as I am a light sleeper. He finished up and looked over at us, and then stepped deeper into the shadows to work out a personal problem, just he usually did every three or four nights. I rolled over and went back to sleep while he pumped away.

Some time later I was awakened by a sudden, sharp cry, like a wild animal would have made. I looked over and saw that Dick was gone again. I didn’t think much of it and was almost back to sleep when I heard another noise. There was no mistaking it for being anything other than a human scream. I jumped into my clothes, grabbed a flashlight, and headed off down the trail to where the noise had originated. The commotion woke up the rest of the guys and they convinced me to wait up for them, and as I waited I heard the staccato roar of a dirt bike as it fired up and fled down the trail.

Dick was naked and was tied to a tree. One of his shoelaces was tied tightly around the stub of his scrotum and his balls had been cut from his body. Other than that, he was in fine shape. Warren, the seventeen year old, took one look at him and fainted. I suggested that one of the guys run back to camp and get a first aid kit and Dick’s sleeping bag. Nothing in our first aid class had dealt with castrations, and he wasn’t losing blood, but I knew that he would soon go into shock unless kept warm. It was only after we had gotten him free from the tree and lay out on the ground that Kevin, the fourteen year old who was prone to nightmares, noticed the white liquid seeping from Dick’s asshole. “He screwed you in the ass, didn’t he?” Kevin asked. The look in Dick’s eyes was all the answer we needed.

We rigged a make shift litter from his sleeping bag and a pair of tree limbs and got him back to camp. It was daylight then, so we activated the emergency locator beacon. Dick said that it might take two days for them to find us, as the signal had to be first verified, then our position would be triangulated from the next satellite pass. We made him as comfortable as possible, and after he had slept for a while he told us what happened.

“I got up about three in the morning to pee,” he said, leaving out the part about also jacking off, “the guy stuck his gun in my face and told me he’s shoot one of you guys if I didn’t do what he said. He made me walk away from camp a ways, right where you found me, I guess, then he made me take off my tee shirt and underwear. I didn’t do it right away so he cocked his gun and stuck it right between my legs and told me he’d blow my prick off if I didn’t. He made me get down on all fours, and the next thing I knew he was on top of me, also naked. I hollered but he stuck a rag in my mouth and had his way with me.” Dick paused for a few minutes, almost as if he were sobbing, before continuing. Then he tied me to the tree and did it to me. He used the top off of a tin can and heated it up red hot with a propane torch that he had with him. He picked it up with a pair of pliers, grabbed my balls, and just hacked them off. I tried to scream but I still had the rag in my mouth. I finally managed to spit it out and hollered once, then he took off on the bike and then you guys came.”

I can’t blame what happened next on Dick, and other people say it wasn’t my fault because I wasn’t in charge, but I realize now that I should have done something. It never occurred to any of us that the squatter would come back, so we didn’t bother posting a guard or anything else when we bedded down that night. We all heard the screams just before dawn, and we immediately realized that Warren was missing. I had a pretty good idea what had happened to him, so we didn’t rush out there until it was daylight.

We found him tied to the same tree as had been used for Dick, and we found him in the same condition. He was sobbing and blubbering uncontrollably, but wasn’t bleeding. Like Dick, he had been castrated with a red-hot blade, and like Dick, his asshole had been violated.

We spent a very nervous day wondering who would be next, but the rescue helicopter showed up late that afternoon. It couldn’t haul all of us back so two of us spent another night on the mountain, but this time with the company of two heavily armed national guardsmen. I still didn’t sleep a wink.

The next morning the helicopter returned with more policemen, and we backtracked to the squatter’s cabin. Most of his stuff was still there, along with his tractor. A connecting rod had broke and came out the side of the block. He and his motorcycle were gone and he was never seen again.

Mom hadn’t returned from her sister’s by the time I got home, so I spent the next few days moping around the house by myself. I didn’t even go out and screw around with my buddies, or even tell them about it. I didn’t sleep well for quite a while. I kept waking up and night holding my balls, afraid that there was someone else in the room with me. After several months the nightmares went away and now I’m okay again. It’s too bad that Warren and Dick can’t say the same thing.