Leadership

It is a gulag. A prison camp. I am awakened in the middle of the night. I am interrogated, bright lights in my eyes. Day four of leadership training. I am fourteen. I am a scout. I am in hell.

I lay my head on the table. The Coleman lantern still roars. It blazes just on the other side of my shuttered lids. I can smell it. 2 a.m.? 3? 4? I open my eyes. The clear lines of the wood grain are hallucinatory. It's so bright. The ladybug and the ants trundle on, and I think I am dreaming them. It's too late. It's too early. No one should be awake at this hour.

They say they know I did it. Did what? I was involved, they know. The other scouts have already told them. I might as well confess. To what? I don't know.

Pee. Somebody peed. Somebody ran from camp to camp, peeing on tent flaps. Somebody shit in the fire. They know it was me. Somebody sprayed shaving cream on the camp director's tent, too, and damn well ruined the water proofing. They know that I did it, with a few other boys. The others have already confessed. If I admit it, things will go easier for me.

What the hell kind of camp is this? I just want to sleep. I don't know what they're talking about. There was no pee on my tent. No shit in my fire. Convenient? Coincidence? I guess. The Coleman roars on.

And Mark. Jesus. On the overnight hike. No adults. Part of our leadership training, of course. Leadership. Hiking aimlessly. Smoking grapevine 'cause we heard it gets you high. Just like banana peels, if you cook them right. That's what I heard. I'm so high! Not as high as me, man, I'm all fucked up! Mostly it just makes my lips kind of numb and itchy, but I say it like the rest of them. High! So high! Grab-ass and horseplay. Chris swinging the entrenching tool in the tall grass like a machete in the jungle, blazing a trail, then knock! The sound of a hammer on a coconut.

And Mark goes down. He's out. And there's blood. We carry him. We take turns. Two miles, five. Ten. All night. He's woozy. He's delirious. He fades in and out. His face is black in the moonlight, but the road shines like silver. His shirt is soaked. There's blood in his shoes.

How could they leave us out here like this? It's ridiculous. It's an outrage. We're just kids. He's going to die, I know it. We can't save him. A badge for first aid, my ass. First aid? He needs surgery. He needs transfusions. Stat! There's so much blood out of him, there can't be much more left in him. What did they think was going to happen, sending us out there alone?

Two stitches! Two stitches and he's back, and the very next day. He was practically dead! They should've graduated him at least, no question. Graduated him in absentia, or whatever. Graduated us all. We saved him. No thanks to them, we saved him. Carried him for miles. But two stitches in his head, and they throw him right back in again. It's a gulag. It's a prison camp.

Well they can send me home without my certificate. Man, I don't care. I'm not telling them shit.