When I went to the Basic Noncommissioned Officers Course at Fort Devens, MA, the BNCOC company first sergeant had a story she loved to tell. It concerned our Morse Code Interceptor trainees.
What you must understand is that Morse interceptors in the Army were completely insane. If there's such a thing as an Insanity Knob and Sidney Powell is a 5, Giuliani is a 6, Lindell a 7, McConnell an 8 and Trump a 10...well, Morse interceptors were about 150. And as you know, insanity knobs are calibrated on a logarithmic scale.
Okay. So here's the situation. Part of the BNCOC training was to be Charge of Quarters at one of the trainee barracks. And while we were on duty, we had to walk the barracks to be sure no one was doing anything they shouldn't, like drinking beer in the barracks (go to Double D's* if you want to do that) or sneaking pizzas up through the fire escape when you could just walk them through the front door. This is what our sergeant walked into:
The Morse students, who lived in an open bay barracks because their CO was an asshole, decided to turn one floor of the barracks into a sex arena. They went to the PX and bought sheets of poster board and bottles of paint. They painted numbers on the poster board. They pulled mattresses off the beds and put them on the floor. Then two people would participate in thread-locking activity in the middle of the mattresses, and afterward three soldiers would hold up numbers like they do at the Olympics to score their performance. I will make a rough guesstimation that the depth of the shit they were in for doing this after they got caught is in the Guinness Book of World Records.
* "Double D's" doesn't refer to bra size so stop saying that. There was one little building on post near where we lived called the Brigade Snack Bar. Two Electronic Warfare Maintenance Specialist students in the 1970s broke into the building late at night and installed a 250-watt amplifier they had made themselves in the jukebox. They didn't take anything and locked up tight after they were finished, so the brigade commander's only response was to call a formation and inform the troops that under no circumstances was anyone ever again to break into the Brigade Snack Bar and install amplifiers in the jukebox. Things went straight downhill when some asshole yelled from the back of the formation, "why would we do it twice?" Anyway, with a very loud jukebox the place became an after-hours dance club, so it picked up the name "Devens Disco." Hence, Double D's. The sick thing was, their homemade amplifier was absolutely reliable.
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