This recruit has a rash

Anyone who has been to Marine Corps Recruit Training is familiar with the hygiene inspection. It’s quite a humbling affair. I was surprised at the number of uncomfortable situations I was exposed to in boot camp. I expected yelling, high stress, strenuous activity, discomfort, and doing everything quickly. Other things I didn’t anticipate, and no one told me about them.

One of those things was using the bathroom (or head in naval terminology…. latrine for you soldiers) in front of other people. I’m not talking about urinals. I mean what the Marine Corps calls a “sit down head call”. When I was on Parris Island there were no stalls. There were two lines of toilets facing each other. Not only were you elbow to elbow with people on both sides of you, but there were also guys right in front of you…AND others standing around waiting for an open seat. This is where I learned the only thing worse than a cold toilet seat is a warm one…eww. There wasn’t time to doo your business during the day. It seems all recruits adjusted to the same biorhythm. Each evening we had approximately an hour to study, read & write letters, shine boots & brass, and…make a sit-down head call. (My platoon picked up with almost ninety recruits and graduated with seventy-seven…that’s a lot of people waiting for a turn on the toilet). This hour was called “Senior Drill Instructor Square Away Time” or what Drill instructor Sergeant Banks called “Communist Hour”. As soon as it was sounded a mad shuffle of recruits, with mail in hand bolted for the head. I supposed by reading your mail on the toilet you maximized time and found a solution for the uncertainty of where to look while taking care of business. Making eyes contact was super weird. Remember, most of us were eighteen and nineteen years old. Other than a quick shower in the locker room in high school, none of us had been such proximity to a hoard of nude, smelly people before. It didn’t take long for it all to become a non-issue though.

Another event I found humbling was “counting off”. Let me first provide some context. I had two images in my head of a U.S. Marine. One was a warrior in flak, helmet, and cammie paint engaging the enemy in combat. The other was a handsome imposing figure in dress blues, either way a stud. There I stood, eighteen years old, skinny as a rail, head shaved bald, awkward suntan (up to bicep and from neck to ear only), a pair of BCG’s (aka birth control glasses), standing in a pair of “tightie whities” with my laundry number (79) scrawled in permanent marker. When given the preparatory command “COUNT” we grabbed our money valuable bag containing our recruit debit card that was tucked in our waistband, fully extended our right arms and in unison said “SNAP”. Upon receiving the command of execution “OFF” we then one by one dropped our arm to our side and counted off in order. It was during one of these daily rituals that I thought to myself “I don’t really feel like a stud”.

So back to the hygiene inspection. It occurs in the evenings. The squad bay is set up as a long corridor with two rows of bunk beds and a wide-open space down the middle. When recruits get “on line” they are standing on a line painted on the concrete deck at the foot of the rack. What you have are two lines of recruits facing each other with the wide-open space, the “highway”, in the middle. This is the where the Drill Instructors walk up and down and where we nasty recruits shuffle quickly when going to and from the head. As the hygiene inspection is conducted the recruits are standing on line in shower shoes (flip flops) with a towel around their waist. As the Drill Instructor walks in front of them, the recruit drops the towel, holds his arms at a ninety degree angle parallel to the deck, spins around in-place three hundred and sixty degrees, and shouts loudly “Sir! This recruit has no physical or mental problems at this time Sir!” If the recruit has an issue he communicates it such as “Sir, this recruit has a large blister on his left foot Sir!”. The issue is inspected, and the recruit may be put on the list for sick call the next morning.

A quick aside if you weren’t already aware: in Marine Corps Recruit Training you do not speak in the first person. You are not allowed to say “me” or “I”. It is always “this recruit” or “Recruit Smith”. Likewise, you would never address the Drill Instructor as “you” or “him”, but rather “Drill Instructor Sergeant Banks”.

One evening we had a Series Commander Hygiene Inspection. It was like any other, except in addition to the Drill Instructor, a Marine Officer was present. This was generally a quick affair. When they arrived in front of a particular recruit I hear a bold and unashamed declaration “SIR, THIS RECRUIT HAS A RASH ON AND AROUND HIS PENIS, SIR!” I tried to suppress my laughter; we all did. Remarkably the Drill Instructor and Series commander were unfazed. I heard the 1st Lieutenant say “Well, let’s see it”. At this point Recruit NAME REDACTED held his…um…service member…in his hand straight out in front of him while these two sturdy professionals examined him closely. The Series Commander then said, “Put some foot powder on it and try to keep it dry”. “AYE SIR!”

Most of the recruits regained their composure. Marines pride themselves on discipline and bearing. I tried. I really tried. I just couldn’t stop laughing. Humor often helps get through stressful situations, and there’s plenty of stress in boot camp, or maybe I was just nasty (a Marine catch all word for something they disapprove of). I was shaking with laughter. This brought the attention of another Drill Instructor who admonished me to “Lock it up!” I responded, “AYE SIR!” but just couldn’t stop. After a few more choice words he then told me “Push!” I dropped to the deck and started doing push-ups. (Reminder…I was only wearing a towel around my waist). After a few push-ups my towel fell off. There I am, buck naked doing push-ups while getting yelled at and my…. service member…is slapping on the concrete deck. I thought to myself “Now THIS is how you get a rash on and around your penis”. I laughed even harder in between “AYE SIR’s!”

In a few moments the Drill Instructor told me to get dressed, then took me to the Quarterdeck to get properly thrashed. So, although we had just finished showering and were preparing to hit the rack, I was getting thoroughly sweaty and worked up. In just a couple of minutes things were no longer funny. I was also given an undesirable shift on Fire Watch that night. I regained my bearing. Recruit life moved on.

I made sure to apply some foot powder before I hit the rack. Thank you Recruit NAME REDACTED for that life lesson. And thanks to Drill Instructor Sergeant Banks, I finally gained some bearing…most of the time.

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