Military Shower
Why is it that in any platoon of the Army there always one Hollywood, one Private Benjamin and one Gomer Pile? There is also one pathetic loser that reminds me of that guy from "Full Metal Jacket."

Ours was a meaty redhead that, having escaped the clutches of some Middle America baloney scarfing family, decided that showers were now completely off the menu.

(note: nothing against Middle America or baloney, but this soldier looked like she was carved out of the stuff. Normally, most of my Middle America soldier friends were clean and neat until they had one too many at the bar.)

Summer in South Carolina is hot and humid, which is some sweat including, body funk inciting weather to be sure. With sixty trainees stuffed into bunks in a WWII army barracks without no air conditioning, tempers were short to begin with. The only thing cold was the showers, they never fixed the hot water heater the entire time we were there (12 weeks).

About two weeks into basic training, we were learning CPR on those "Resusci-Annie" dolls. I was *shudder* right behind Stinky, our literal example of the great unwashed masses (or mass if you prefer). As the Sergeant was swabbing Annie's mouth for my rescue attempt (thank god for alcohol!) she said to the three of us who were still in line.

"That solder is disgusting and unsanitary. I don't care what you have to do, but that soldier will be clean in the morning or else."

We knew the score. If there is one thing true of the military, they are fond of punishing the whole squad or platoon or even company for the actions of a single soldier. They use peer pressure very effectively.

It didn't take long for word to get around, and that night after everyone else had showered (which didn't take long when there is no hot water) We confronted Stinky in front of her bunk.

We reminded her that it was shower time
No Luck

We told her that the Sergeant ordered it
No Luck

We yelled at her to get her greasy ass into the shower
No Luck

Finally, totally disgusted, tired and ready to write our letters home, we carried her into the shower, stripped her to her personals and scrubbed the living daylights out of her squirming, cursing form.

We tossed a towel to the not so stinky Stinky and let her know that she would be getting more of the same if she stopped bathing ever again.

We only had to do that once.
Until the crabs incident...