What's the most humiliating, ego-reducing experience you have had while in the Armed Forces?

I was the NCOIC of the Indoor Range in Berlin's Doughboy City, we had numerous VIP's visit and it was my job to give them a tour of the facility. we had a bus that housed the Weaponeer, In 1984 it was the premier simulator for firing the M16. We had a General visit, and I demonstrated the Weaponeer to him, he then asked what happened if after training, a soldier could not qualify with an M16. My response was we send them to OCS and give them 45's, he thought it was funny, The Colonel, not so much!

I was once in an Infantry Battalion that had a unit standard of 80 points in each event or you were on remedial PT. On one particular PT test, I had a bad day and got like 78 points on the SU's, 95 points on the PU's, and maxed the 2 mi run, for a 273 total score. I was a SGT at that time, and I got put on the remedial PT program, which was 1630-1800. I was one of the few NCO's on it. Most of the others were there because they couldn't run, so needless to say the remedial PT was heavy run-focused which I maxed just about every PT test (at that time). I felt humiliated every time I heard my name called for or mentioned for remedial PT, not to mention being looked down on by the CSM, 1SG, and other NCOs. I did hundreds of sit ups a day on my own, on top of regular and remedial PT, for about 2 weeks and then asked for a retest. Out of spite or ego or whatever I got up at exactly 80 points on the SU's, PU's, and slow jogged the last quarter mile of the 2 mile run to finish with just over 80 points, for like a 245 total. I went from a 273 to a 245 but was off remedial PT because I achieved the 80 points in each event standard, which evidently was more important than the total score. I had hoped it brought down the company average.

From my memoirs at 1st Engineer Battalion, 1st Marine Division in Da Nang, Vietnam
The base was being dismantled and everything destroyed so nothing would be left for the enemy to use. Engineers would go into a SEA hut or bunker and douse it with diesel fuel, toss in an incendiary grenade and stand back. When the cinders began to cool, a bulldozer or backhoe would move in and grind the ash into the red earth.

There was activity everywhere and as we touched down I could see the sweat and black soot covering everyone's faces and arms. The chopper only set down long enough for the three of us to jump off, then immediately took to the air, and headed back North in the direction we had come.

On the ground, we followed The Skipper around from place to place and inspected the progress of the dismantling. He offered a "Good job!" here and an instruction there. He talked to the platoon commander about time schedules and walked to the edge of the perimeter and looked out over the wide stretch of rice paddies that lay in front of the hill.

Finally he turned to Sergeant Goodman and me, and told us that since we would be here for awhile, we should go find the Gunny in charge and tell him to put us to work.

We walked back up the hill and found Gunny Nelson from Charley Company directing a big green bulldozer over huge tangle of sand bags and wire. When he had a break in the action, Goodman spoke up, yelling over the noise.

"Gunny?, Goodman, Hager," pointing to me, "S-3. Skipper said for you to put us to work!"

"Great!" Gunny replied. "You a Cherry?" He motioned to me.

"What?" I didn't understand the question.

"Are you a cherry? A new guy!" he repeated.

"Yea, first week!" I shrugged.

"OK, Number one!" he gave a thumbs up sign. "Sergeant, you go down to the South side over there and get those guys organized stackin' up and baling all the old sandbags. Hager, you come with me!"

Goodman disappeared over the rise and I followed the Gunny down to the little four hole outhouse that stood by the old headquarters bunker.

"You smoke Hager?"

"No thanks. Never have"

He looked at me sideways and swore under his breath. "OK, here!" he tossed me his Pocket lighter. "Take these two cans of diesel. You can burn the shitter!"

"Aye aye, Gunny." He wandered off pointing and yelling something at a backhoe driver who was reversing into a ditch without watching his rear.

I looked around at what was going on and carried the two five gallon cans of diesel over to the outhouse.

I propped the door open with one of them and unscrewed the cap on the other. I doused the whole inside with fuel, then went outside and splashed the remainder all over the outside as well. I had five gallons of flammable liquid soaking into all of the wood, and I figured I wouldn't need the other five gallons so I moved the full can back about thirty or forty yards and went back to the out house. There was a roll of toilet paper still on the holder so I unraveled almost the whole thing all over the floor, trailed some out the door and lit the end with the lighter.

It only took a second for the whole thing to go up in gigantic roiling flames. Black smoke poured into the sky and mixed with the smoke from the other structures. I was standing admiring my work when the Gunny, The Skipper and about six other Marines came sprinting up to me screaming and swearing at me at the top of their lungs.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HAGER?"

"WHO TOLD YOU TO BURN SHITTER DOWN?"

"ARE YOU SOME KIND OF IDIOT?"

"WHO'S THE STUPID FUCKIN' CHERRY?"

"WHAT AN ASS HOLE!"

Shit! How do you get in trouble for following orders? These guys looked like they wanted to kill someone and I think his name was Me..

The Skipper squared off in front of me. "Who told you to set the shitter on fire?"

"Gunny Nelson sir!" I replied meekly but truthfully.

"Bull shit. I never said anything about lighting the whole place on fire, sir"

"Hager?" The Skipper looked between me and Gunny Nelson.

"Sir, he handed me his lighter and ten gallons of diesel and said to burn this shitter, sir!" I was confused and hurt. It was a conspiracy.

"Sir, I did not say." The Gunny trailed off and a look of understanding lit the faces of the Skipper, the Gunny and everyone else all at once. Suddenly they were laughing, joking and having a great good time at my expense.

All over Vietnam, the military built neat little four hole outhouses. Under the seats there were four cut off fuel drums filled with diesel fuel. You sat down and did your business in the drums, which immediately sank to the bottom of the oil, thereby minimizing disease and odor at the same time.

There was a flap on the back of the little building through which the drums could be removed. When they became full, they were pulled out a safe distance from the building and set ablaze. When they had burned down to the bare metal, they were refilled with clean diesel oil and replaced back under the seats from which they had come. The popular phrase used to describe that process was "burning the shitter." Who knew?

Everyone was laughing out loud. And pointing. At me. At the situation. At the stupid new cherry. Gunny sent someone off to find a shovel and I was rewarded for my ignorance by digging a field head since the shitter was apparently the LAST thing burned down. I was humiliated, but while I dug a long trench to be used for the rest of the day, I did smile a little, because after all, it was pretty funny when you thought about it.