It was a Sunday so it was strip the barracks day. After only a couple of Sundays of it we were fed up with the blue falcons that would run off & hide at the chapel, leaving the rest of us to do their work. After an "informal" platoon meeting it was decided that the guilty parties would face everything from blanket parties to Comet showers if it happened again.DS C was one of those tabbed out guys that was cool as fuck & called everybody DICK (Dedicated Infantry Combat Killer). This particular Sunday he was CQ & would be inspecting the barracks when we finished. I was one of the squad leaders. We got to the latrine portion of the inspection & DS C commented that, while we had done a good job, he still had to fuck with us. Out of his pocket comes a tube of MRE peanut butter which he begins to smear all over a toilet seat. After threats of the never ending saw dust pit if we told what was going on we were told to return to our platoons & wait.
After a few minutes he opens his office window & tells up to double time upstairs to the latrine NOW! When we get in there, he rubs his finger through the peanut butter, holds it up, & says "What the fuck is this DICKS? Is this shit on my toilet? Looks like shit; (he smells it) Smells like shit; (he licks his finger) By God it taste like shit; WHAT FUCKIN PRIVATE LEFT SHIT IN MY LATRINE!!!"Everybody but the four of us squad leaders & the PG were floored that DS was eating shit.Two hours of front/back/go's, roll left/roll rights, & the subsequent re-cleaning of the barracks was worth it when we told them the story at the end of the day.