One would think that if a person had shit themselves that they would try to come up with as discreet a way of disposing of their underwear as possible. Well, perhaps most people but not everyone. Where there’s some folks that would get out the bottle of laundry detergent and clean the offending fecal matter off in the shower and then properly launder said underclothes. That’s what most right thinking people would do.
Hell, some folks would just do well of wrapping their shat upon undergarments into a plastic shopping bag and tossing them in the nearest dumpster. If I ever crapped myself, I would want to get rid of the evidence as soon as possible. I wouldn't do it in a manner that aroused suspicion.
Much to my dismay, I have borne witness to people soiling themselves and then trying to hide it on more than one occasion. The first such occasion being when my division was gearing up for what we were being told was a fairly big personnel inspection. I have no earthly idea why this one was such a big deal other than the RDC’s told us it was. That being the case, everyone in the division went into overdrive making sure everything was as perfect as it could be.
Now, the inspectors come in that day and start looking at everything. No matter what branch of the military you happen to have been in, you know that you've never felt more scrutinized during one of these things. I never actually saw it happen, but if you were told to memorize the heating instructions for a Hot Pocket; at some point in the inspection somebody would be asked to tell the inspector how long the box said to keep the damn thing in the microwave before eating it.
So we’re all standing there and out of nowhere we hear what could loosely be called a mixture of whispering and yelling at the same time. None of us dare to look over. However, our ears do perk up when we hear somebody say “is under your towel supposed to be where you stow your dirty laundry”? We finish up the inspection and after which we ask some of the people near the origination of the noise what happened. Apparently one of the guys, whose name was so unpronounceable we just called him Wojo, had taken a pair of underwear that had seen several better days and hid them under a towel.
Let me elaborate. To save the embarrassment of taking a pair of underwear that he may have fouled and put them in for laundry, he just hit them under a towel. A towel that immediately looked to the inspectors as if it were out of place. They see the small lump under the towel and find a pair of shitted up briefs. Boy, when we heard this we all remembered about how our RDC’s had told us if anything stupid happened during the inspection we were going to get this shit beaten out of us.
Getting beat, for those that don’t know doesn't actually involve getting beaten up as most understand the definition. What it did mean, is that we were going to get exercised within an inch of our lives. But we thought that it was just an empty threat to motivate us. Christ were we wrong.
About an hour and a half after eating dinner, one of the RDC’s jumps up and yells at us to push all the bunks back to the walls. Uh oh. He then instructs somebody to shut all the windows. This is a building with no air conditioning. While it was still in a town north of Chicago, it was still about eighty five degrees that day. For the next hour and a half, we were engaged in a PT session so intense that condensation was forming on the ceiling and falling gown upon us. Was literally raining in the building.
Every single one of us had to do this, except one…Wojo. His motivation to never do something stupid like that again was to take his pair of shitted up underwear, tape them to a broom and hold them in front of his face while marching around the barracks. I’m not certain which of us had it worse that day. The situation was almost like in Full Metal Jacket when Pyle stood there and ate the doughnut while everyone was doing pushups. Needless to say, he never did it again.