I always drove NCOs nuts because a) I didn't care and used my pockets, and b) when I was in the field I rarely bloused my boots. A (usually) staff NCO with a hard-on would come up knife-handing me and get frustrated: "Hey, Devil Dog...er, sorry, Doc. Dammit....." knowing he could not do anything about it.
When the Gulf War started, one of my brothers (Major in the Marines) got called back into active duty. I was stationed in Charleston, SC at the time and drove up on a Friday night to Camp LeJune to spend a weekend with him before he deployed overseas.
We got up at zero-dark-thirty Saturday and headed to the Galley for breakfast. Him in uniform and me in civies.
Anyway, when I got up the lady at the register at the counter and gave her my ComRats card, she apparently hadn't ever run across that scenario before and had a difficult time figuring out what to do to charge me. I was explaining to her that I was in the Navy and being paid BAS and that was my ComRats card, and if I ate at military facilities I needed to be charged the daily rate for the meals I ate.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch...the line was growing longer...and longer...and longer. Until it finally wrapped around to the back of the building.
Out on the floor was a Gunny, evidently the head-guy-what's-in-charge-of-all-things-that-might-be-an-infraction, like someone leaving a fork on a table when they got up to leave.
As I was casually leaning on the counter, dressed in civies, typical Sailor haircut for shore duty (
meaning juuuuuuuuust this side of SAT by Navy standards), I saw him look up at the window at the opposite end of the galley. Then he pivoted about as he followed that horrendously long line along the far wall to the adjacent wall and finally to the entry door, and then to me, leaning on the counter talking to the cashier.
I could see the storm clouds gather around his head as his features darkened, lightning flashing in his eyes, as he mentally hitched up his highly polished, high-top ass-kicking boots and then proceeded to storm over towards me.
I smiled and waved at him as he approached.
The storm clouds started swirling around his head and the temperature dropped noticeably in the galley.
When he got to the counter, he snatched up my green ID from the counter and looked at the ID, front and back.
Then he looked at me.
Then he looked at the Marine Major standing behind me with his arms folded across his chest and saw the name tag on his uniform.
Then he looked back my ID card.
Then he looked at me, with my smile still plastered on my face.
Then he slammed the ID card down on the counter and stalked off without saying a word.
I turned back to the lady at the cash register and said
"I just LOVE marines! They're SO much fun to mess with!"
She smiled and waved me past the register.
My brother just laughed and shook his head!
