There were so many things I wanted to explain about how Starsky and Hutch made their individual decisions to join the police and also how Starsky first met Traff. And ultimately how the guys started to work together. So, I set about writing this Trilogy. It's the longest thing I've written and has taken me a long time to fine tune. I hope you like it. Some of it is violent, some of it deals with sex (warning there, and I will put a warning at the beginning of each chapter if there is content I think some people may find offensive - they are red blooded young men, when all is said and done!). But I have tried to deal with the things that the two guys in their late teens/early twenties encountered. Things that no-one so young should really have to deal with, but which shaped the men who Starsky and Hutch became.
My thanks to Karen B for her wonderful words of support, to Jill for beta reading Part Two - "Ken" and to my wonderful Brook, without whom I just couldn't write.
Disclaimer - as is usual, no money is made from this, its written purely for pleasure. I don't own them but I borrow them and use their bodies for my (and your) pleasure. Hehehehe!
This first story introduces Major Sharpe who some may remember from one of my first stories - The Major Incident. Ever wondered why Sharpe hated Starsky so much?
Legend Trilogy – Part 1 – David.
'Starsky, eyes front and centre' O'Malley the drill Sergeant yelled at the new man on the base. He stood on the front rank of the 12 men now standing at attention and his eyes had roamed around his new surroundings.
'Just where they've always been' the dark haired boy muttered almost under his breath.
'What?' O'Malley's eyes drilled into the handsome young man's eyes seeing only defiance and self assuredness.
'Nunthin Sarg'.
O'Malley stood over the young man, hands on his hips. He'd seen the young 18 year old swagger cockily into the Major's office hours earlier and he'd smiled to himself.
Another one of the "chosen few". Thinks he's Gods gift to this man's Army an' he's out to show us old hands just what a great guy he is. Just like all the other young guns I've had through here. And now it's my job to show him just how small, insignificant and ultimately expendable he really is.
'Again?'
'Sir nuthin Sir', Starsky replied promptly and more accurately, squaring his shoulders a little more as he heard a stifled snort behind him.
'That's better soldier! You think you're the most important guy here, do ya? Drop and give me forty' O'Malley ground out.
The young man dropped to the ground, stretching his long legs out behind him and placed his hands at shoulders width beneath him, commencing the press ups and counting them out under his breath. Why did he always have to open his mouth? Why the hell couldn't he just keep it buttoned? Always the same. Always some cute, sarcastic, clever remark, and then the consequences. And now this, in front of his new unit too. He could feel the eyes of the others boring into the back of his neck and redoubled his efforts to execute the push ups strong and fast. He felt a boot in the middle of his back and the strain on his arms doubled as O'Malley leaned lightly on him.
'You're gonna find a few things are different here, Private. First. We don't answer back. Second. We do what we're told without question. Third. We follow orders. Got that?'
Starsky counted forty under his breath and lay on his belly in the dirt waiting. The boot ground into his spine.
'I didn't hear you soldier. I said did you get that?'
'Sir, yes Sir' Starsky said loudly trying hard not to pant with the added exertion. Behind him he heard the snort again and this time O'Malley heard It too. He got to his feet and stood smartly to attention, the 35lb kit sack on his back pulling at his shoulders.
'You got something to add Cade?'
'No Sir No' the blond haired man's voice sounded loud and clear behind Starsky.
'Then keep it buttoned soldier. Tomorrow we'll be starting with reveille at 5:00am, out on the parade ground by 6:00 and…tonight you'll be in bed by 9:00 ….'.
'Or home by half past' Starsky's mouth formed the words before he could bite them back and he cast a brief look sideways without moving his head as O'Malley approached him again.
'This must be some kind of record soldier. Two interruptions in as many minutes. Is there nothing between your ears? Don't keeping it buttoned mean nothing?' He paused and Starsky wondered whether he should answer or whether the drill Sergeant was being rhetorical. He decided on the latter as the big man continued. 'Maybe I can help you son' he bent closer to the young man and took on a fatherly air.
'Maybe I can do something to help you understand. Would you like that Private Starsky?'
The brunet looked at the man in front of him and decided this time the sergeant required an answer.
'Sir yes Sir'
'Then I hope you take this in the spirit in which it's given' O'Malley said more quietly. 'You're gonna run. Five miles, full pack. Once around the perimeter and perhaps at the end of it you're going to have too little breath to come at me with wise cracks again. This Army needs men who shudup and listen, not comedians. Got that?'
Starsky tried to keep his tone even although his temper flared. 'Sir, yes Sir' he ground out through clenched teeth.
The change was not lost on O'Malley and the big man saw in the brunet something of the recruit he had been all those years ago. Despite what the young man might think now, O'Malley was indeed trying to help. On the second rank, he caught another noise and the tail end of an 'Oh Jeez!' He pushed his way though the front rank to the man standing diagonally behind Starsky and stared down at the other soldier. He'd been in the unit for a month now and he too had trouble keeping his feelings on command decisions, the weather, the food and anything else to himself. O'Malley liked him too, but recognised that both he and Starsky would need firm handling.
'Got something to add Trafford? Coz I don't recall opening this up for debate'.
Emerald green eyes stared straight ahead as the soldier answered smartly in the negative, but O'Malley wasn't mollified. He saw the same defiance he'd seen earlier and knew he needed to knock it out of this man too. Stepping back he dismissed the young solider.
'You too Trafford. If you want to make a friend, you've got five miles to do it. The rest of you, dismissed'.
'But Sarg its ten to nine. You said we had to be in out bunks by nine' Trafford argued quietly.
'Then you'd better start running fast, though I doubt even a super soldier like you can run five miles in ten minutes. The rest of you men…don't wait up!'
The rest of the unit dispersed as Starsky and Trafford looked at each other and shrugged. With a last look at O'Malley, Starsky held out a hand to the other man.
'Wanna show the visiting team the sights?' he said, squinting up into the darkness as the rain started to fall.
'My pleasure' Trafford said as they both set off at a comfortable jog into the gloom.
The rain started to fall steadily from the darkened sky as the two men jogged along in companiable silence. To anyone looking at the two, they would swear they were in fact twins. Both stood a whisker shy of 6' and were of lithe, muscular stature. Both too had dark, chocolate brown hair, and if they'd been permitted to grow it longer than the regulation buzz cut, they would have discovered that both men sported curls that their mothers adored and they would do anything to be rid of.
'Dave. Dave Starsky' the 18 year old grunted in introduction.
The other man took it in a firm warm grasp. 'Tom Trafford. Traff to friends. What brings you to this paradise?'
Starsky snorted. 'Just lucky I guess. I left school, bummed around for a while and did the biker thing, but I felt like I wasn't getting anywhere. And then this guy was standing at a promotional display in the mall. I got to reading the information he gave me about the Army and it looked good'.
'They gave ya the hard sell did they? The "we'll make you into a real man " line?'
'Uh huh. and then I got to boot camp an' realised it aint like they sell it to ya. There's always someone telling you what to do, when to do it, and how to do it -- and you've got to do it. An' I just can't keep my damned mouth shut!'
'Tell me about it' Traff said with feeling.
'An' the other thing they don't tell ya in the bumph is that in the Army, you work the hours you're told to work, you work "overtime" with no additional pay, you're supposed to do what you're told to do an' ya live where you're told to live, and you'll deploy where and when you're told to deploy. Which is how I ended up here'.
'Sounds like me. I turned 18 an' I had to get outa the place I was living. My Dad was military through an' through. I swear if you chopped in half he'd have it written through his middle. Anyhow, he went out to work one day. Didn't tell me he was going to war. An' he didn't come back'.
'Jeez that's tough. My Dad was a cop. He was shot on duty an' my Mom cou….well, I ended up living with my aunt in Bay City Cal'.
'My Mom died when I was born. I never knew her' Traff said matter of factly.
'And the place ya had to get out of?'
Traff snorted. 'Orphanage. So I went from one institution to another. Don't tell me. You were picked out at boot camp an' sent here'.
'Uh huh. They said I could shoot well enough and they needed snipers. An' did I want some excitement? You too?'
'Yup. I managed to get five outa six slugs into the bull an' next thing I know I was in the Major's office 'n' they're doin' this hard sell thing about how my country needed me'.
'How long have you been here?' Starsky asked, stumbling slightly in the dark and rain.
'A month. One month of pure joy! The guys are ok. Ya have to watch a couple of 'em. They think they're Captain Marvel or sumthin. But the rest are sound enough'.
'O'Malley seems a bundle of laughs'.
Traff grinned. 'He's a pussycat when ya get t'know him. He does care. He just makes us tough it out coz that's what it's gonna be like over there'.
'Over where?'
Traff stopped running, bending over to get his breath. He looked at the other boy with pity in his eyes. 'Didn't they tell ya?'
'Tell me what?'
'What this place is an' where you'll end up'
Starsky stopped, also bending over to catch his breath. In the distance he could see the lights of the nissen huts and he stole a quick look at his watch. 11:45. 'No, they omitted that little snippet' he grunted. 'Care to enlighten me?'
Traff heaved a big sigh. He put a friendly hand on his new friend's shoulder. 'We're being trained as snipers'.
'I know'.
'Well where in this country would we need a sniper?'
'Dunno. I never thought. I just enjoy firing guns. Shit! Why do I get the impression I'm not gonna like what I hear?'
'Coz that's about the size of it Chief. The reason they need a whole bunch of snipers is coz we're being shipped off to 'Nam in four months time'.
Starsky stood upright, trying to assimilate the information. 'Nam? As in Vietnam. Jungles; rain; all those film reels we keep seein'?'
'Uh huh. We have the dubious honour of seeing the world – through the crosshairs of a rifle'.
'Shit! No wonder the other guys at boot camp didn't seem real sorry that they weren't chosen'.
'Well there are some good points'. Traff said as they started to jog the final leg back to the base.
'T'riffic? Somehow I'm not sure I believe ya'.
'Oh there are. We're classed as SPCs – Specialists. So although it ain't exactly a promotion we do get a bit more in our pay packet. An' although you won't believe it now, we don't have such tight regulations as the rest of the grunts. We even get to go off base to the bars at weekends'.
Starsky looked skeptical. 'Don't exactly sell me on the thoughts of getting' shot to death in 'Nam' he grumbled.
'No? Well wait till ya tell the girls you're doin' undercover missions for Uncle Sam. Drives 'em wild! Believe me Chief. What those girls at Mo's Bar can do with an ice cube ain't worth mentionin'. Traff grinned as Starsky's face lit up.
'Now that' he said happily 'is definitely something to get shot at for. Hey! I got something to celebrate at the end of this month'.
'Yeah? What?'
'I turn 19'.
Traff regarded the dark haired boy. 'Funny, you look older'.
Starsky stared levelly back into the emerald green eyes. 'Yeah, you too. How old are ya?'
'19 four months ago' Traff replied.
'Well, old man. Race ya back to the bunk house. I want a hot shower an' bed' Starsky grinned, sprinting ahead quickly his backpack bouncing uncomfortably against his back.
O'Malley was waiting for the two young men when they got back. They were soaking wet, the rain dripping off their noses and eyelashes and their clothes were stiff with the rainwater. The Sergeant ushered them inside without a word and directed them to the showers before handing them cups of steaming coffee.
'You missed supper. Get washed up and then get to bed. You're up again in five hours' he said gruffly before turning in his heel and leaving.
Starsky walked into the shower room, peeled off his dripping clothes and hung them up in the drying cabinet before turning on the hot water and ducking under the shower. The running water warmed him through and eased the tense muscles in his shoulders. The news Traff had given him had been a shock, but, he reasoned, if he joined the Army, he'd have to see action, and right now, the action was in 'Nam. He tried to shut out the pictures he's seen on the news reels about the conflict and instead concentrated on the present. Time to worry about oversees later. Girls. Traff had told him that their unit was a magnet for the girls, so for that he was happy.
The water started to run cold and he got out, wrapping one of the rough green towels around his waist. Traff was doing the same and each boy appraised the other. Both were well muscled and both had a fur of brown hair across their chests, fading to a thin central line which disappeared below the waistband of the towel. But whereas the hair decorating Traff's chest was thick and straight, Starsky's hair formed brown curls across his chest'.
Traff grinned. 'Yay, Curly boy' he said, regarding his new friend with some humour in his emerald green eyes. He spoke in a soft Boston accent which Starsky found oddly calming.
'That's me, like a freakin' poodle' Starsky agreed with a chuckle, his own New York accent still strong despite spending the last four years of his life in California.
They dried quickly and got into their regulation green boxers and vests before padding out of the shower room and into their bunk house. The lights were out and there was the sound of eight other guys all softly snoring and dead to the world. Traff pointed at a lower bunk on the right hand side of the room and whispered.
'That's yours. I'm over there' he pointed at the far corner of the room. 'Sleep well'.
Starsky walked over to his bunk and carefully put his kit back at the foot to unpack properly in the morning when he could see and wouldn't disturb the others. He pulled back the sheets to his bunk and looked around for his pillow. He knew there should be one, but there wasn't and he bent down to look under the bunk just in case. Nothing there either and he looked across the small space to the next bunk. He saw the blond fuzz on top of Cade's head as the young man turned over and was sure he saw the grin on the man's face before he presented the back of his head.
The brunet paused, torn between having it out with the blond that he'd taken an instant dislike to, or making do with what he had and keeping quiet so that the rest of the bunk house could sleep. Looking at the other sleeping guys, and realising he now had only four hours of sleep ahead of him, Starsky decided to let sleeping blonds lie. He'd get even later. He lay his weary body down on the hard mattress and rested his head on his folded arm.
He wondered what his Mom would think if he knew he was going to see action in 'Nam. He'd forgiven Rachel Starsky years ago for sending him away from New York. He'd been young and even more impetuous then and had taken his neighbours gun and gone in search of his Dad's killers. A couple of his Dad's cop friends had picked him up and locked him in the cells overnight as a short sharp shock. But in the morning, his Mom had made the heartbreaking decision to send her eldest son away for his own protection. At the time – he was only 14 – Starsky had hated her for her decision, feeling abandoned. But as the months went by, the hatred faded to unhappiness and then to understanding. He could never hate his Mom, and now he wondered what he could tell her to stop her worrying too much. Sleep overtook him though and he dreamed of guns and blonds and shouting Sergeants