Rambodoc at large

Do you know how it is to be on the frontlines in an active war? Just like getting married to the wrong person!
After my internship I was drafted into the military service during the Iraq-Iran war and reported to my infantry Battalion as ordered. My commander, a Colonel, had some peri-anal issues. Based on what he told me, I did not think he had piles, but he insisted he did and would not take “no” for an answer.

One early morning, I was summoned to his post, where he demanded an examination. But I had no proctoscope (a metal tube half as wide as an ice cream cone). He dispatched me with his guards some 30 miles away to the nearest MASH unit. There I was greeted with unusual respect and was indulged with all the tools of my liking. Back at the frontline, I performed the proctoscopy on my commander, a 5 feet-nothing, chubby male with a face the color of sun-dried Italian tomatoes. As I advanced the scope, the enemy could have heard his groans! His face turned the color of sun-dried Italian olives. Luckily for me, it went through fairly quickly. As he pulled his pants up he said, "Thank God I am not gay!” Dismissed!!