Robert Porter
Senior Master Sergeant
Quite believable that that would happen on occasion. Luckily not my generations issue. By the time I was on active duty it was post Vietnam but just barely pre permeant press. We still had to deal with spray starch and irons. Funny story, usually a group of guys, no more than 4, would chip in and buy and share an iron. My group of 4 had one. We were as usual in a rush to get uniforms ironed, this was in basic, due to an upcoming inspection. Golan, still remember his name, asked for the iron, being busy I just one handed it behind me while still working on my shoes. I felt a jerk so I assumed he had grabbed it and let go. There began what at first I thought was a whistle sound. Turns out Golan who was only wearing a jock strap at the time, had turned away as I was handing the iron over. Unknowingly I had planted the business end of the iron directly on his left buttock cheek. It stuck, which was the jerk I felt. The whistle I thought I heard was Golan screaming at an exceedingly high pitch with the iron firmly attached to his cheek.
Another boot saw what had happened and knocked the iron off, which left with some skin still attached and a horrendous odor. Golan feinted straightaway, which was good as otherwise I might not have survived. Needless to say Golan did not graduate with our class. I did however forward the iron to him, felt it was the least I could do. In every way that counted he earned it.
Another boot saw what had happened and knocked the iron off, which left with some skin still attached and a horrendous odor. Golan feinted straightaway, which was good as otherwise I might not have survived. Needless to say Golan did not graduate with our class. I did however forward the iron to him, felt it was the least I could do. In every way that counted he earned it.
