(Author Note: This is the ninth episode in a series. The characters and situations were introduced in the story:
Camp Torowa Falls 1: Wet Sheets Lead to Sore Rumps.
Read that episode first! Then read episodes 2 through 8 before reading this one!) -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Corey and Jerry lay side by side, sunning themselves on the bank of the creek. Corey noticed Kyle sitting on the far bank - the side their encampment was on - scribbling once again in his little book. "What do you think Kyle is writing in that little book all the time?" asked Corey.

Jerry lifted his head, opened one eye - with which he regarded the furiously scribbling Kyle - laid his head back down and said, "Maybe God is making him do lines."

"Yeah," said Corey, chuckling. "Writeth unto me, 'I must not be be a self-righteous little twerp', one billion times." They both had a good chuckle at that one.

"Seriously, though," said Corey. "What are we gonna do about him blackmailing us?"

"We're gonna do what we agreed to do."

"You do realize we could get out of it?" said Corey. "My red butt is mostly gone already and you could ditch all the cherry bombs. Then all of Kyle's precious evidence will be gone and we could tell him to go piss up a rope."

"I know."

"But we're gonna do what he asked us to anyway?"

"That's right," said Jerry. He opened one eye and regarded Corey. "Wouldn't you like to teach those jerks in Bear Cabin a lesson?"

"Sure, I'd love to rub those guys' noses in a big pile of poo. It's the cherry bomb thing I'm worried about. Well, that and letting Kyle Garlin get the drop on us."

"Don't worry about Kyle," said Jerry. "Let him think we're doing it for his reasons, while we'll be doing it for our own reasons. At least he's not likely to attack you again while he thinks we're working for him."

"There is that, I guess," said Corey. He thought for a while. "We're going to need a plan."

"Two plans, I should think," said Jerry.

"Two plans?"

"First, we need to distribute the cherry bombs to the others without getting caught," said Jerry. "Then we need to figure out how to get the little'uns Frisbee back from the Bears."

"The first one should be easy."

"Really?" said Jerry, sitting up and looking at Corey with interest. "If you have a foolproof plan for that, I'm all ears. I've been comin' up empty so far."

"Well," said Corey, hesitantly. "I don't have...an...actual..."

"So you don't have a foolproof plan..."

"...well, no..."

"Or any plan at all..."

"Not really."

"I see," said Jerry.

"Now look," said Corey, "all we have to do is fool..."

"Hey Simon!" yelled Jerry.

"Hey guys!" said Simon, their assistant counselor, as he climbed out of the creek to lay down on the bank nearby. "What are you two talking about?"

"The usual," said Jerry. "Plotting to take over the world, starting with Camp Torowa Falls."

"Yeah, well," said Simon, "if anybody in camp could pull that off, my money would be on you two and your pals Eric and Alan. So who was it you have to fool, exactly?"

Corey looked at Jerry, who nodded. Corey turned to Simon and said, "We're going to try and capture the Squirrel Cabin Frisbee from Bear Cabin."

"I see," said Simon. "I take it that Kyle put you guys up to this?"

"Something like that," said Jerry. "We were wondering if anything like that has been done before."

"Not exactly," said Simon. "Most cabins are completely focused on defending their own Frisbee or grabbing another one from its owners. I never heard of grabbing a Frisbee from a third cabin that already captured it. I assume you're going for a double grab?"

"What?" said Corey and Jerry simultaneously.

"I've seen those arrogant boz...campers from Bear Cabin playing with a captured Frisbee and their own at the same time," said Simon. "If they do it again you could try snatching both at the same time."

"Why bother?" asked Corey.

"Well," said Jerry, "if we missed the Squirrel Frisbee but captured the Bear Frisbee we'd have a bargaining chip."

"Correct!" said Simon.

"Could we trade them their Frisbee for the Squirrel Frisbee?" asked Corey.

"Probably," said Simon. "I've never heard of this specific situation happening before. But back when I was a little'un two cabins captured each others' Frisbees at the same time. They both tried mightily to get their own back but failed. After six days they just swapped them even up. Either that or each cabin would have had to spank the other the next day."

"So that's what we'll do!" said Corey.

"That's what we'll certainly try to do," said Jerry. "Thanks, Simon, that was really good advice!"

"Hey, everybody always does what Simon Says..." Simon said as he slid back into the creek, "..unless they want to lose the game."

Corey and Jerry looked at each other and groaned in agony. They jumped into the creek after Simon and started splashing him, and he gleefully retaliated.

So now they had an interesting general concept for the Frisbee recovery operation. But first they had to address the immediate problem of cherry bomb distribution. Corey was in favor of doing it late that night after the adults were asleep. But he was overruled by Jerry, who wanted to do it the following morning.

The part that really bothered Corey was that Jerry even refused to tell him the specific plan. He knew it involved a distraction, but Jerry told him that the less people that knew about it, the better. Corey's only consolation was that Jerry had run the plan by Eric, who told Corey that there "was a high probability of success." But for some reason Corey couldn't shake a bad feeling about the entire affair.

It was a beautiful clear night with an almost-full moon. After dinner came the campfire entertainment, which featured four more performances. Corey couldn't help noticing that everyone who performed had put on briefs or shorts. Jerry went first, giving them the United States Marine Corps Hymn since, as he said, there were some people here who weren't sure of the words. Eric and Corey chuckled at that comment, although they showed proper respect for the hymn itself.

Tony came next, performing "Puff the Magic Dragon" and most of the campers sang along.

Willie expressed irritation with Tony, since he had planned to sing the same song. Instead he got up and sang another Peter, Paul & Mary standard, "Lemon Tree." Corey liked that song too, and was surprised when Willie proved to have a fine singing voice. It appeared that everyone does have a talent for something, even hopeless, pathetic Willie.

None of the other campers volunteered, so Simon concluded the evening's entertainment with the traditional Irish folk song, "The Unicorn." The song tells the story of how the unicorns played on the shore during the flood, and missed the sailing of Noah's Ark. "That's why you've never seen a unicorn to this very day."

The group sat around the campfire after that, toasting the last of the marshmallow supply and chatting.

Eventually Alan brought up the subject of flying saucers, or what Eric prefered to call Unidentified Flying Objects (UFOs). Kyle and Lionel chose to retire to their tents at that point, but the others stayed up for another hour, discussing whether on not they believed that Earth was being visiting by extraterrestrials.

Corey realized his hair was standing on end part way through Alan's recitation of the story of Barney and Betty Hill, a couple who claimed to have been abducted by aliens while driving at night through the White Mountains of New Hampshire in September 1961.

"That was worse than ghost stories," Corey said later as he and Jerry entered their tent and prepared for bed.

"Why?" asked Jerry.

"Because I know ghosts aren't real," said Corey. "Aliens might be."

"I think it's all a bunch of hooey."

"Yeah, well," said Corey as he took one last look at the bright sky before he closed the flap of their tent. "A story about people being abducted off a lonely mountain at night is lot more scary when you're actually camped out on the side of a lonely mountain at night."

"Would little Corey like me to put a diaper on him in case the scary aliens make him go pee-pee in his pants?"

"Cram your diaper someplace painful, jarhead!"

"That's Lieutenant Jarhead to you, squidling!" said Jerry, who knew that Corey intended to become a Naval Aviator and eventually an astronaut - just like his personal hero, Alan Shepard.

"Will you two idiots keep it down!" shouted Willie plaintively from the next tent.

"Sorry!" said Jerry loudly. He grinned at Corey, who grinned back. The two friends just couldn't stay mad at each other.

After they were undressed and settled onto their sleeping bags they began talking again, in whispered tones.

"How many cherry bombs did you buy from the locals in Glens Falls?" asked Corey.

"Twelve."

"Why so many?" asked Corey. He knew that fireworks were one of those strange facets of camp life. Campers set them off all the time, of course, despite the fact that they were completely illegal. The staff didn't even bother trying to find the culprits unless they set off the firecrackers too close to a building, since you basically had to catch them red-handed.

But woe be unto any camper actually caught in possession of fireworks. It meant an automatic dose of Boss Lemmon's strap applied to the bare bottom of the culprit at the next assembly. And for Jerry to have purchased a dozen cherry bombs at once just seemed so reckless to Corey.

"Well," said Jerry, "you know that the Marines are in the business of killing people and blowing shit up."

"Yeah."

"So I can't practice the first one yet, except for pretend. I figured at least with these I could practice blowing shit up."

"I guess that makes a kind of sense," said Corey. "Now let's review the plan for tomorrow morning again,"

"It's pretty simple," said Jerry. "Eric and I will handle everything. All you have to is act as lookout"

"Lookout?" said Corey. "What do I have to do?"

"After Jeff and Simon leave camp," said Jerry, "you keep an eye out for them coming back while Eric and I distribute the stuff. If you see them coming back, just whistle, and we'll take it from there."

"Are you sure they'll leave camp?

"Oh, yeah."

"Why are you so sure?" asked Corey. "What's gonna happen?"

"You don't want to know," said Jerry.

"Which really means you don't trust me," said Corey.

"Of course I trust you, but it will work better if the diversion is a surprise to almost everyone. Plus just in case this does blows up in our faces you won't be directly involved. I thought you weren't keen on this part of the project anyway?"

"I'm not," said Corey. "But I guess I just can't stand not being involved when something interesting...well, naughty is going on."

"You will be involved, as the lookout, which is an important job."

"Okay, I give up," said Corey. "Lookout it is."

There was no competition this time, but the two friends did manage to cause one another to soil a second pair of Jerry's old socks before climbing into their sleeping bags and heading off to dreamland.

By the second morning life in camp had already settled into a pattern. Corey was an early riser compared to most other campers, and after his morning relief mission into the woods he dressed himself, mostly in the same clothes as yesterday, except for clean socks and a "Go Navy!" t-shirt. By some common, unspoken convention the boys all would be dressed during the mornings, but spend most of the afternoons stripped for skinny dipping.

Soon he and Phil were back down at their posts at the creek, angling for breakfast. The fishing wasn't nearly as good today, and they only caught three trout and a catfish. But Corey still enjoyed the peace and serenity of an hour spent with only the sounds of chirping birds and flowing water for company. Phil was never much for conversation, which suited Corey perfectly at this time of day.

Corey lived in a house about two blocks from the Lehigh River so he was used to swimming and fishing in the summer, but it sure wasn't like this back home. There the river was criss-crossed by highway and railroad bridges and lined with cement mills and other industries. Corey thought it might be nice to have a house along a secluded creek like this one day.

The campers had just begun eating breakfast when the sound of gunfire erupted from above the campsite. In fact the sound was coming from such close range that everyone dropped to the ground instinctively. Corey wondered what the hell was going on.

It certainly wasn't hunting season, unless the season was totally different here compared to Pennsylvania. Besides, this sounded like a machine gun. But Corey didn't hear any bullets whizzing through the air, or see any dirt being kicked up. He peeked around at his fellows nearby - without lifting his head - he didn't see any blood on anyone and fervently prayed that nobody had been hit.

The gunfire finally stopped. "Hey!" shouted Jeff from nearby. "You with the gun! Knock it off, we have children down here in this campsite!" There was no response, but there was also no further gunfire.

They waited and watched a couple of minutes, but no further gunfire was heard. A small cloud of bluish smoke drifted out of the woods nearby, the only indication left by the gunman. "Jeff," said Simon, "I'm not so sure that was a gun."

"What was it, then?" asked Paulie.

"Quiet, Paulie!" said Jeff. "The rest of you boys, too! Yeah, Simon, you may be right, but gun or not somebody up there is screwing around with us, and I want to find out who."

"Agreed," said Simon. "How do you want to handle it?"

"First I'm getting these boys out of here," said Jeff. "Patrol Leader!"

"Yes, sir!" answered Jerry. He held the title of Patrol Leader for Fox Cabin, which was largely ceremonial back in camp. But out here in the wilderness it meant that Jerry was in charge of the campers if Jeff and Simon weren't around.

"Jerry," said Jeff. "Take your patrol down the hill to the creek and try to keep them hidden as best you can. No swimming!"

"Yes, sir!" said Jerry.

"Here, take my compass," said Jeff, handing it over to Jerry. "If we're not back in half an hour, or you hear more gunfire, I want you to lead your patrol back to Camp Torowa Falls as fast as possible. Don't worry about equipment or your personal possessions - just get them out of here."

"I understand, Jeff." said Jerry.

"Very well, get them moving!"

"Yes sir," said Jerry. "And good luck! Alright you guys, follow me down the hill, on the double."

Corey moved with the group down the hill the thirty feet towards the creek. Jerry led them downstream a ways, past the swimmin' hole. It also happened to be the direction back towards camp. "Okay, Corey," said Jerry, "now you keep watch while we hand out the cherry bombs."

"Wait a minute," said Corey, "you mean that was the distraction?"

"Yep, pretty good one, huh?"

"It sure had me fooled. How did you manage to stage that?"

"I didn't," said Jerry. "Eric did. And before you ask, he refused to tell me how it was done. But he assured me it would work and as usual he was correct. Excuse me now, I have work to do."

So Corey kept watch for the return of Jeff and Simon. But it really wasn't necessary. The cherry bomb distribution had wrapped up long before the two counselors returned.

As Jerry doled out the cherry bombs, he extracted a promise from each camper to not attempt to use them out here in the wilderness. He also told them to hide the bombs in their gear in their tents just as soon as breakfast was over.

About twenty minutes later the two adults found their hiding place. Jerry feigned concerned interest as Jeff and Simon reported that it wasn't a gun after all. It appeared that someone had set off a block of fire crackers up in the woods above their camp. They had been able to find no trace of the person or persons responsible.

As they trooped back up to the campsite, Corey was amazed at how well that had gone. And here he had been really worried about them getting caught. Soon they were back in camp, eating their interrupted meal.

Corey was always amazed how in moments of extreme stress time seemed to slow down, and everything moved in slow motion. It had happened minutes before when he thought the camp was under fire from the woods above, and it happened again at the end of breakfast when he saw the cherry bomb, carelessly put away by its owner, fall out of Paulie's pocket as he got to his feet. The incriminating item seemed to fall in slow motion, and hit the ground with an incredibly loud thud, there in plain view of everyone sitting around the campfire.

Unfortunately for Corey and his cabinmates, he was not the only person to notice this event. Simon immediately jumped up and grabbed the cherry bomb with one hand, and Paulie with the other. "You dropped something, lad," said Simon.

Things went downhill extremely fast at that point. Before they properly knew what had happened, all ten campers were standing in a line with their hands behind their heads. Jeff was in Paulie's face, holding the cherry bomb right in front of the little boy's nose. Paulie stared at the bomb like a snake that was going to bite him. "I'm gonna ask you one more time, Paulie. Where did you get this?"

"I found it," said Paulie sheepishly, "on the ground."

"Oh yeah," said Jeff, "cherry bomb trees are very common in this part of the country." Corey had to supress a laugh at this exchange, since he actually had found his cherry bomb laying on the ground yesterday...and put it in the pocket of the denim cutoffs he was wearing again today. Uh, oh!

"Who gave it to you?" asked Jeff.

"I don't know," said Paulie.

"All right," said Jeff. "I've had enough of this nonsense. He stepped back a couple of paces. "I want all of you to take off your shoes and socks, and place them on the ground in front of you."

As Corey complied with this order, he realized that if they were searched he was dead meat. They were all dead meat, in fact, since every boy there had a cherry bomb in his pocket. Although he wasn't completely sure about Jerry. Did he have any left after the give-away this morning?

Once the ten boys had removed their shoes, Jeff said, "Now take off your pants - but not your undies - fold them, and place them on the ground in front of you next to your shoes." Corey unsnapped his cutoffs and slid them off, stepping out them. Soon they were nicely folded and sitting on the ground in front of him.

"Now Simon and I are going to go along the line," said Jeff, "and turn out the pockets of your pants." Corey grimaced at this news - they were surely doomed now.

"If you are guilty of fireworks possession I'd advise you to make it easy on us," said Jeff. "Any boy with fireworks in his possession, in his clothes or in his tent, will immediately take off his underpants and put them on top of his pants. If there are any fireworks in his pockets, he will take them out of the pockets and place them on top of his underpants."

Corey looked nervously towards Jerry on his right and Phil on his left. The other boys were also looking around, but not moving. "Don't look at each other! Attention! Eyes front!" Corey immediately snapped to attention and stared straight ahead. What should he do? There was no way they wouldn't find the cherry bomb he stupidly left in his pocket.

"I'm waiting!" yelled Jeff, clearly livid. Corey saw movement to his right. Jerry stripped off his briefs and set them on top of his jeans. Jerry then started digging in the pockets of his jeans.

Corey swallowed hard and slipped his fingers into the waist band of his white Jockey shorts, slipped them down, stepped out of them, and placed them on top of his cutoffs. Then he fished his cherry bomb out of the pocket and placed it on his briefs. As he stood back up he noticed how the red cherry bomb was highlighted by the white cloth on which it sat. Corey put his hands behind his head.

Soon Jeff and Simon stood facing a row of ten crestfallen boys, each with a cherry bomb sitting on top of his briefs in front of him. "All ten of you, huh?" said Jeff. "Who provided these cherry bombs?" There was no response.

"The boy who provided these cherry bombs will get down on his knees right now!" said Jeff. There was no response.

"If you confess now, you'll get extra punishment from me and Simon, here and now. If you make me search your tents, you will also be reported to Boss Lemmon when we get back to camp. It's your ass, and your choice."

Corey saw movement to his right again. Jerry had dropped down to his knees. "So, Jerry - the mighty Patrol Leader himself," said Jeff. "Why did you give these kids cherry bombs?" Jerry didn't answer, but hung his head in shame. "Were you trying to maim them?"

"No!" said Jerry. "I would never..." He just hung his head some more.

"Jeff!" said Kyle. Heads turned towards him.

"What is it, Kyle?" asked Jeff.

"Sir," said Kyle, "it wasn't Jerry's idea to give us all cherry bombs." Great, now Kyle was gonna finger Corey as the ringleader and get him an extra dose of punishment. Just great!

"Really?" said Jeff. "Then whose idea was it."

"Mine, sir." said Kyle, as he sank to his knees.

"Yours?" asked Jeff, incredulously.

"Yes, sir." said Kyle. "I convinced Jerry to give us each a cherry bomb." He looked to be near tears.

Jeff walked over and squatted down in front of Kyle. "Why on earth would you do something that stupid, and that illegal?"

"I just wanted to see what fireworks were like, and thought the other boys in the cabin would like to, too." said Kyle.

"I see."

"Sir," said Kyle. "The other eight boys didn't even really want to have cherry bombs, we had to talk them into it. They shouldn't be punished, sir. Please just punish Jerry and me."

Corey couldn't believe his ears. Was this the same little sneak who had sucker punched him just a few days ago? The same twerp who seemed to take delight in the punishment of heathens?

"Really, Kyle?" said Jeff getting back to his feet. "Did you and Jerry hold a gun or a knife to these boys to make them take the cherry bombs?"

"No, sir," said Kyle.

Jeff walked over to face Corey. "Did they force you to take the cherry bomb, Corey?"

"No, sir," said Corey.

"So, Corey, you're gonna try and tell me that you weren't up to your ears in this mess?

"Yes, sir," said Corey, shaking his head.

"I don't believe you!" said Jeff, getting right up in Corey's face.

"Sir!" said Jerry. "He's telling the truth! Corey tried to talk me out of giving cherry bombs to the others - more than once - but I didn't listen to him."

"Really?" asked Jeff.

"Yes, sir," said Jerry. Corey nodded his head vigorously.

"Corey Lane, showing some common sense when mischief was afoot?" said Jeff. "Will wonders never cease? Which reminds me."

Jeff turned to Jerry, "Jerry Farnham, as of this moment you are stripped of the title of Patrol Leader for Fox Cabin." Jerry blanched at that news, then nodded his head sorrowfully. "As far as I'm concerned, you are the lowest little squirt in this outfit."

Jeff turned back to Corey, "Corey Lane, you are the new Patrol Leader for Fox Cabin."

"Yes, Jeff," said Corey. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," said Jeff. "All right, none of you eight boys still standing are trying to claim that someone forced you to accept an illegal cherry bomb, are you?" He looked up and down the line of downcast boys. Nobody said anything.

"Very well, then," said Jeff. "All that remains is for us give you the punishment you all so richly deserve. Simon, I intend to thrash these little pyromaniacs to within an inch of their lives. They won't be able to hold still for what's coming their way. Would you be willing to horse them on your back while I thrash them?"

"Of course," said Simon. "One thing, though. I don't much fancy being piddled on by these little cretins while they're screaming in my ear. Could you perhaps...deal with that?"

"I certainly can and will," said Jeff. "Okay, first you all need to get your pocket knives out of your pockets." The ten boys all reached into their pants lying on the ground to retreive their pocket knives.

"I want you all to go up into the woods and cut yourselves two switches. Don't get 'em from pine trees, use hardwood branches. Cut them from live trees, not deadfalls. The smallest switch you bring back will be worn out thrashing your own backside. The largest is a spare, to be used on someone else if their own switch breaks too soon or they cut too small a switch."

And don't forget to relieve yourselves before coming back down here. If any of you pees on Simon's back, I'll let him use the slipper on you as long as he wants.

"Everybody understand the assignment? Good! You have fifteen minutes to get back here with two sturdy switches and empty bladders. Go!"

Corey angled into the woods upstream. He had noticed a stand of birch trees during their search mission for the two "sleeping beauties" yesterday. Corey knew that birch branches made excellent switches. His father made him cut switches from one of the birch trees in their back yard when he got thrashed at home.

But Corey was always thrashed while bending over a sawhorse in the garage. He had never been horsed on someone's back before, and wondered what it would be like. Well, now he'd find out soon enough. Corey found the stand of birch trees and cut himself two good, sturdy switches. Jerry had followed him and cut birch switches, too. Then on the way back they found a likely looking piece of underbrush to water.

When the doomed campers returned to the campsite with their switches they found Simon stripped to his underwear and Jeff checking each boy's switches as they arrived. Jeff examined the two birch switches that Corey had cut, pronounced them acceptable, then put the slightly larger one on the pile of spares and returned the other to Corey.

As Corey resumed his place behind his clothes, he noticed that his briefs and cherry bomb were missing. All the cherry bombs were missing, in fact, and only Kyle and Jerry still had briefs on their pile of clothes. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out why the cherry bombs were gone. Corey was curious about the missing briefs, of course, but a bit too frightened at the moment to mention it to Jeff or Simon.

Jerry was soon standing beside him, his own personal birch switch in his hands. As they waited for the others to get back, Corey ran his hand over the surface of the birch switch in his grasp. It felt cool to the touch. In fact the breezy morning mountain air felt cool, since he was standing there wearing only his prized "Go Navy" t-shirt. Corey realized that the switch in his hand would very soon cause him to be quite warm as Jeff used it to paint a message of obedience on his backside.

After they were all lined up again Jeff addressed them while holding what appeared to be a canvas laundry bag. "Okay, here's how we're gonna handle this thing. The boys waiting to be thrashed will form a line over here behind where I'm standing. Kyle, this was your idea, so you will be last in line. You'll get to watch all your friends get it before you get yours."

"Jerry," said Jeff. "You provided the cherry bombs, so you go next to last. The rest of you will have a lottery. I've placed your briefs in this bag, and Simon will draw one pair at a time. He will read the label, and that boy will take the next spot in line."

Simon started drawing underpants out of the bag and reading labels, and called the names off in this order: Lionel Harper, Tony Lansing, Alan Dunson, Phil Lundon, Corey Lane, Paulie Jenkins, Eric Linsey, Willie Strand. As their names were called, the boys joined the unhappy queue.

"Okay," said Jeff. "Jerry, take your place in line behind Willie, and Kyle will get in line behind Jerry. When your thrashing is over you will go and stand over there behind your clothing."

"Okay, Lionel," said Jeff. "Let's get going. Hand me your switch, then walk up behind Simon, and drape your hands over his shoulders."

Lionel handed his switch to Jeff, then stepped up to Simon, who had his back turned to the group. He placed his hands over Simon's shoulder and they were grabbed by Simon, who bent over, neatly horsing Lionel on his back.

Jeff marched up next to them, swishing the switch experimentally. He touched the middle of Lionel's bottom with the switch, then it swung way back and, Swish...thwack! Swish...thwack! Swish...thwack! "Oww." Swish...thwack! "OOOOwwww!" The boy was soon kicking and howling for all he was worth.

As Tony Lansing took his place on Simon's back and was reduced to a sobbing, howling, kicking wreck, Corey took no small delight in Tony's pain. He wasn't proud of that fact, but there it was.

Soon Alan Dunson was howling and writhing on Simon's back as the switch did its damage to his rear end. Swish...thwack! "Yeeoow!" Swish...thwack! "Ohhh!" Swish...thwack! "Owwwwee!" Alan was soon dropped off of Simon's back to dance around, furiously rubbing his posterior as he tried to rub out the maddening pain.

Phil Lundon was the next boy hoisted up on Simon's back. As Jeff positioned himself to thrash Phil, Corey took a step forward and was now at the front of the line. He would be next.

Corey was fascinated by the action of the switch and horrified at the same time as it painted vivid red stripes on Phil's white posterior. Corey had been switched several times, but had never seen anyone getting it before, especially from point blank range. There were butterflies in his stomach the size of Boeing 707s as he watched Phil writhe and kick and heard his howls.

He was at the front of the line and very soon the switch he held in his hand would be ripping into his bottom in the same way. Corey fervently hoped that he would take his whipping like a man, or failing that at least better than the boys who came before him. But he knew deep inside that it was wishful thinking.

All too soon Phil was back on his feet, hopping around, rubbing his bottom furiously as he cried and gasped from the pain. Phil moved back towards his clothes and Jeff threw away the switch he had just worn out on Phil's backside. Then he turned to Corey and held out his hand.

Corey handed Jeff his birch switch and stepped up behind Simon, whose back glistened with sweat in the morning sun. Corey knew it was the mingled sweat of Simon and the four boys who had just writhed across that broad back. As Corey draped his hands over Simon's shoulder, he realized that he would soon be adding to that collection of sweat as he was soundly thrashed.

Simon's hands grabbed Corey's, then the 18-year-old Asscon bent over and pulled Corey's hands forward, raising the boy's feet off the ground and pasting Corey's body to his back. It must be an effect of all the sweat. Corey wriggled his body slightly in an attempt to more comfortably seat his genitals against the curve of Simon's back.

Corey felt the switch touch his bottom lightly as Jeff sighted for the first whack. It was almost like time was slowing down again. Part of Corey wanted the first blow to never fall, while another part of him wanted this whipping to be over as quickly as possible.

Swish...thwack! Corey's entire body jerked. Wow, that hurts!

Swish...thwack! Sweet Jesus! How can he possibly survive a dozen or more like that?

Swish...thwack! "Yeeeoow!" Manly thoughts were soon thrown aside.

Swish...thwack! "Yeeoowww!" Corey's legs kicked. He was suddenly a little boy again, a very sore little boy who was really sorry for what he had done wrong.

Swish...thwack! "OOOOwwwww!" He kicked again. He was a little boy who was dreadfully sorry that he had been caught and was getting this whipping.

Swish...thwack! "NOOOOoooo!" He started writhing in earnest. Corey wanted off of Simon's back in the worst way, but the young man held his hands firmly, keeping him in place to take what was coming to him.

Swish...thwack! "YEEooww!" Corey was sobbing openly now. He realized that it was harder to hold out from crying when you didn't know how many whacks you were going to get. There was no goal to hang on to, just pain.

Swish...thwack! "Noooooo! Please stop!" God! Either the birch switches are tougher in New York or Jeff was hitting Corey a lot harder than his father did. Jeff sure had him begging for mercy a lot sooner.

Swish...thwack! "Yeeeoowww! I can't take anymore!" By the twelfth stroke Corey was bawling and no longer thinking coherently. He lost count sometime after fifteen strokes, his entire world revolving around twin glowing orbs of pain.

Eventually Corey found himself back on his feet and furiously trying to rub the burn from his backside as he bawled. Corey slowly made his way back to stand behind his clothing. He stood there rubbing and sobbing, only dimly aware of the switches falling on the backsides of Paulie, Eric, and Willie as those three boys howled and kicked their way through their whippings. Soon eight red-faced and sniffling boys were standing back in line and only Jeff and Kyle remained to be dealt with.

And dealt with they were. Jeff wore out two switches on each of them, and both boys were reduced to bawling, kicking, screaming wrecks by the end of their correction.

The ten offenders were made to stand there until they had all regained some control over their emotions. Then Jeff gave them a little speech. "First off, I'm bitterly disappointed that my boys would get involved in anything as dangerous as fireworks. I'm particularly disappointed that older boys would let younger boys talk them into giving them such dangerous explosives. I just thank God that we found out before one of you lost a hand, or worse."

"Second, you are all confined to your tents until lunch time. You may read, talk, or sleep, whatever you want." Jeff looked directly at Corey and Jerry. "I do expect your tent flaps to remain open at all times." Corey blushed.

"That's all, dismissed!" Corey picked up his clothing - his briefs had been returned to the pile - and went back to the tent.

Corey and Jerry both chose to lay face down on their sleeping bags. "I think he knows!" whispered Corey.

"Shut up!" whispered Jerry.

Corey slept fitfully and awoke still quite sore, but in surprisingly good spirits, when lunch time was called. Jerry wasn't talkative, but he was like that sometimes.

Sitting for lunch was difficult for ten of the twelve diners, but they all managed to eat something. Soon it was time to head to the swimmin' hole for another afternoon of fun.

Corey was amazed at the array of vividly red-striped backsides that cavorted at the swimmin' hole that afternoon. Eventually he realized that one particularly familiar backside was missing. Where was Jerry? Suddenly concerned for his friend, he hiked back up the hill to the campsite to find him.

As he approached the campsite Corey heard voices. "..did not say you are useless," said Jeff.

"Yes you did!" said Jerry, clearly in tears. "You said I was a useless little squirt."

"No Jerry, I said that in my opinion you were the lowest little squirt in this camp," said Jeff. "Do you know why I said that?"

"Because I gave the other kids fireworks," said Jerry.

"Partly yes, but it was mainly because you ignored your advisors and endangered the health and lives of the campers in your patrol. Your father was a Marine Corps officer, right?

"Yes," said Jerry, sniffling.

"Do you think your father would have given the men in his command a dangerous explosive and then turned them lose without any training or real understanding of how to use it safely?"

"Of course not," said Jerry. He burst into fresh tears, "I am useless!"

Jeff held the boy's chin up so he was looking at him, "You are not useless, Jerry! You're just a young man who made a bad mistake. You were lucky that nobody got hurt, except for some sore backsides. Your real problem is pride."

"Pride?" said Jerry, still sobbing.

"You told me that Corey advised you against giving the other kids cherry bombs. I'm willing to bet that Eric told you the same thing, right?"

"Right," said Jerry.

"Now Corey is clever, and Eric is as sharp as they come, and yet you chose to overrule them. Doesn't that smack of pride?"

"Yes it does," said Jerry.

"Someday, when you are a Marine Corps second lieutenant, you'll need to listen to your sergeants. If you don't, you'll get good men killed. A Marine is proud, but a Marine can't let his personal pride get in the way of good judgement. Heck, few people can afford that, whether they're in the Marines or not. You got that?"

"I understand, Jeff." said Jerry. He buried his head in Jeff's chest and the man hugged him close as the boy sobbed himself out. Corey quietly left the area and went back down to the swimmin' hole.

By mid-afteroon Corey and Jerry were back on their perch on the far bank of the creek sunning themselves once again.

"I'm sorry about not listening to you about the cherry bombs," said Jerry.

"Hey, forget about it," said Corey. "We all make mistakes."

"But this mistake cost ten guys whipped asses."

"Luckily we're all fast healers," said Corey. "Of course, when you're a camper at Camp Torowa Falls, you'd better be!"