7,600 Vets Answered. Here are the 7 funniest stories (revised for clarity and language).

Oscar the Grouch

We had a guy that somehow got his watch through the “indoc” (when they take all your stuff on arrival to Parris Island). Well, the DIs found out he had it, so they put him in the squad bay trashcan and put the lid on it. Every time they walked by and kicked it he had to pop out with his watch and yell, “SIR, THE TIME ON DECK IS ZERO-NINE-FORTY-FIVE!” and then go back into his can like the freakin’ grouch from Sesame Street. . . . It was really, really hard not to laugh at that.

Sweeping Sunshine

There was a time when we made a private sweep all the sunshine off the sidewalks. It took the poor guy all day.

Sand by the Spoonful

I was at Camp Coyote in Kuwait during February of ’03 waiting for the invasion to kick off. I left my rifle in the smoke pit after having a quick smoke during a sandstorm. The company Gunny found it before I realized it was missing. I had to clean every weapon in the battalion and have each piece inspected before I was allowed to reassemble the weapon. When I was done with that, I had to fill 500 sand bags with an MRE spoon. I was told to make it a level spoonful and if I was caught heaping it in, I would be given a coffee stirrer. Until we crossed the border, my job every morning was to burn the waste from the barrels under the make-shift toilets. It took me about 4 hours every morning to burn all the giant buckets. Some of my old Marine buddies still call me #$%*& smoker to this day. I never lived it down.The worst part was every senior person in the battalion knew my name. That is worse than death for a Lance Corporal. I was requested by name for every demeaning task that needed to be done. Needless to say, I never left my rifle out of arms reach ever again.

Mr. Fluffy

One of the first days in (Canadian Army) Basic, a guy in my platoon was standing at attention while having his room inspected by the instructor. It didn’t matter how nice his room was because there was a large piece of fuzz on his shirt that immediately drew the sergeant’s attention.

Imagine a female, French-Canadian, sergeant with this accent

“Recruit Bloggins! What is that on your shirt?! Is that a fluffy!?”

“Yes, sergeant!”

“Why is there a fluffy on your shirt, Bloggins!?”

“I must have missed it, sergeant!” 

“Missed it? It is so huge, how did you miss such a big fluffy!?” 

She picks it off of him. 

“Hold out your hand” 

He holds out his hand and she places it in his palm. 

“This is Mr. Fluffy. Find a home for him, like a pill bottle or something. From now on, whenever I want to see Mr. Fluffy you must bring him to me.” 

And so, for the rest of basic, every time the sergeant found a piece of fuzz she would yell out, “MR. FLUFFY!” and Bloggins would have to march over to her and present Mr. Fluffy, and she would formally hand him the new piece of fuzz to add to Mr. Fluffy. There was hell to pay if he didn’t have Mr. Fluffy with him at all times

Watching a Movie

In Boot Camp, we were told we’d be given one day off to watch the movie Full Metal Jacket. Our Drill Instructor didn’t like it. 

“I don’t know why they are giving you guys the right to watch a movie, the Marines in the movie never get to watch one, but orders are orders so you will watch this movie!” 

He then put everyone in formation, ordered them into parade rest, had one guy stand in front of formation and hold the VHS tape in front of him. 

“The film says that it is 118 minutes long,” barked the DI. “And so you will stand here and watch the movie for 118 minutes.” 

The DI walked away. We stood there for 118 minutes staring at the VHS tape in the hands of the Marine assigned to hold it up for everyone to watch.

Beat Your Face

My brother told me that when he was in Basic, a Drill Sergeant yelled at this guy to “beat his face.” That was slang for “do push-ups.” But the guy had no idea what it meant, so without hesitation, the guy began punching himself in the face hard, really hard. He threw one punch so hard he fell to the ground. The Drill Sergeant had to walk away, and brother said you could hear him laughing hysterically behind a building. 

Human Jukebox

in our unit, we had one guy that would constantly hum songs. One day our CO had enough. He ordered the guy to go to his locker and get inside. The CO closed and locked the locker door. Then, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a quarter, pushed it through the vent holes, and told the guy to start singing. Whenever someone put a quarter in the slot, the guy had to sing another song. This went on for 6 hours. The guy made around 15 bucks in quarters, and we were all in pain from laughing. Needless to say, he acquired the name “Jukebox” and never hummed again.