Private Caneberry

While in boot camp the drill instructor told me to guard his office until the platoon got back from the mess hall. So while he was away I spotted a card file on his desk and opened it and looked under the letter P for Phenicie. Sure enough there was a 3x5 card in there with my name on it. So I read the comments which said I would graduate and that I would make a good Marine but needs to be more aggressive. Wow, both good news and a little need for improvement news!

A week or so went by and like everything else It’s not every day that opportunities stand out to a point where you instinctively react to what is before you, but the drill instructor blurted out a command that we had five minutes to “clean the head and get on the road for chow”.
We all ran in the rest room and began the clean up process of the sinks, urinals, and toilets, mirrors and floors.

My job was the sinks and mirrors, so I grabbed the cleaning gear and started the process. Then all the sudden I spotted this nerd of a guy leaning over “My sink”, close to “My mirror” popping his zits!!! As I approached him I told him to get away from the sink and mirror because we only had a limited amount of time to get outside. He refused, I shoved him, he coward and said, “leave me alone” as he raised his hands to defend himself. So I punched him in the face as hard as I could and with one blow he fell to the floor and banged his shaved head on the tile and was out cold!!!

Just then some one yelled, “Sir Private Phenicie just killed Private Canebury”. I had never seen someone out cold and my heart began to race.

The Drill instructor leaped into crowd and knelt down beside “the Prive”. Then he slowly looked up to me and said, “Well private are you ready to go to jail”? I just about went into shock. Then the drill instructor slapped the little pimple face and said “Caneberry, get up”!!!!!

Then to my surprise Caneberry inhaled with a scratchy snore like drawl and began to breathe once again. As he got up, there was a print of the tile floor on the back of his shaved head that remained there for about two weeks. The Drill instructor screamed, “get on the road for chow”. From then on I had acquired a new elevated respect.