UNWELCOME GUESTS

Submitted by: Old Okie

During our basic training, we marched everywhere. Most of the time, we weren’t actually going anywhere – just marching. Most of us were able to learn the various steps and movements without too much difficulty. A few guys had a hard time in learning how to march, and what to do when given a certain command. And then, there was the fellow with the proverbial two left feet. In our flight, not only did he have the bad luck to always be out of step with the rest of us, but he also was much taller than anyone else. So, as he stepped with his left foot while we stepped with our right feet, he was very noticeable when his head and shoulders moved up while ours moved down. Each time that happened, our Flight Leader (FL) would order us to halt. Then, he’d order Private Doofuss (I don’t remember his name) to fall in out in front of the flight and proceed to give him several marching commands, chewing his butt out angrily each time he screwed up. As time went on, the FL finally had to ignore Pvt Doofus because he was running out of time to instill the proper discipline in the rest of us. When we marched in review on the parade ground, poor old Doofus would be left behind as our Barracks Guard.

After we had been there for two or three weeks, I began to notice some sort of itchy feeling in my groin area. Then, as I lay in my underwear on my top bunk one evening, I noticed a small, white, spider-like critter crawling on my thigh. He was so tiny that the hairs on my leg were keeping him from crawling on my skin. As I began to realize what it might be, I asked one of the older guys (probably the ripe old age of 20 or so), “Hey, Joe, do you think this is a crab?” That got everyone’s attention, and Joe took one look and gave me an affirmative answer. The guy who bunked below me said, “Oh shit!”, and moved his mattress and bedding to an empty bunk. When I reported my pets to the FL, he got real ugly and chewed me out. Then, he assigned one commode to me, and informed everyone else to not use it under any circumstances. I was told to report to sick call the next morning. As though they had been keeping a low profile until they heard that their presence had been discovered, my unwelcome guests immediately became much more aggressive. If you’ve never had the pleasure of their company, the best description I can think of, besides the constant itching, is that it frequently felt like my asshole was moving a little way back and forth.

When I went to sick call, they gave me a small bottle of clear, blue liquid. The crabs seemed to thrive on it, as they only got worse. Fortunately, as I sat on the steps outside our barracks one day (scratching my rear off), a high school friend from my old home town came walking up; his mother had told him that I was here, so, since he was permanent party and had a stripe on his sleeve, he found out where I was assigned and looked me up. We visited for a while, and, when I told him about my problem, he said he’d ask his Supply Sergeant what he could give me to get rid of the crabs. He came back with an insecticide spray, and instructed me to stand by the shower (turned on) with soap in one hand and the insecticide in the other hand. Then, I should spray my crotch for about 2 seconds and immediately get in the shower and scrub the stuff off with soap. That stuff was wonderful! I never had another crab, so I stripped my bed, sprayed my bunk and mattress, and got rid of my bedding. During all that time, it never occurred to me that our FL was the only person in our barracks who had been off the base – we weren’t allowed to leave the base. So, I don’t know how he kept a straight face while he was chewing me out for infecting the barracks with crabs.

The Old Okie