1800 Hours
14 September 2011
Throughout my time in combat, I earned the reputation of a special kind of killer. Of shitter boxes.
That’s right, a little humor injection you war mongers.
It was about day three when Mother nature took over and demanded an immediate bowel movement. I found the nearest HUMMvee and and asked for their shitter box. I think an aside is necessary here:
The shitter box: a converted ammunition box with the edges pried off, AND the staples and nails pulled or bent over on one side, to allow a proper less—painful squat. Apparently, unbeknownst to me, there is shitter box etiquette, whereby you control the rate of your excretion, as to protect the inside of the precious box from human fecal matter. I never seemed to grasp this concept, and tended to let it all blow, so to speak.
If you see just about any war picture or footage with HUMVees, look at the exhaust pipe sticking skyward near the rear passenger door. I almost guarantee you will see an ammo box wrapped around it slid down from the top. This is the coveted shitter box.
So, to continue – I borrowed 2 Alpha’s shitter box, and moved to a comfortable safe spot. It was about 5 feet from my Marines. After digging a proper hole, I did my business. So now I just had to return the box.
The Corporal at 2 Alpha takes one look at the box I brought back and was like, “Fuck no Doc! What’s this shit!” as he indicated the shit splatter I had made all over the inside of Alpha 2’s shitter box. I was lost. I was under the impression all that had happened was I had taken a shit and offended a Marine. End of part one.
Fast forward a day or two, as I approach 2 Alpha and ask for their shitter box. “Fuck no Doc,” was the corporals repy. “You’re not assassinating another one of MY shitter boxes!” The man was serious. So began my lesson in shitter box etiquette.
Anyways, by the end of my time in combat, it took until the FOURTH vehicle to find a group of Marines who were unaware of my kill ratio (of shitter boxes.) I conned them into letting me use their box, and duly liquidated it, literally.
The moral of this short entry is, in combat, something as simple as wooden crate toilet can ruin your rep.