Snuffy is your stereotyped hillbilly. He makes his own 'corn likker', is always close to getting busted by the sheriff, scares off strangers with a shotgun. It's doubtful he takes a bath more than once a year, if that. That's background for those who've never seen the comic strip. Now, here's a true story about my run in with Snuffy.
In 1966, while in my senior year in college, I volunteered to join the army and go through officer training. The Vietnam war was in full swing and I figured I'd be drafted within a year or two of landing my first job. I opted not to wait for the draft notice, boogied on down to the recruiter and signed up. I was thinking my business degree would guarantee me a nice, cushy desk job - well out of harms way. What a dumb shit! How naive can you be?
Basic training was at Fort Dix, NJ. I was one of 200 basic trainees in the company, the majority of which were college grads headed for Officer Candidate School like me. There were also a couple dozen draftees in the mix, including one from West Virginia, who I quickly dubbed Snuffy. Snuffy was a true hillbilly. Talked the talk, walked the walk, had a set (partial set, actually) of rotten teeth that had never seen a toothbrush, much less a dentist.
I was a platoon leader, in charge of four 12-man squads, each with its own squad leader. I assume I was given the assignment because I held several leadership positions in college organizations and was a Forest Service crew chief, a summer job.
We were in a 2-story barracks, 2 squads on each floor. My bunk was on the first floor. Three weeks into training, one of my 2nd story squad leaders approached me and complained about a member of his squad. Snuffy. He said Snuffy hadn't showered since day one, smelled like a pig. I went upstairs to take a look.
H-h-holy shit! The stench hit me when I was 20 feet away. At 'ground zero', right beside his bunk and foot locker, I nearly barfed, beat a hasty retreat. Smelled like a pig? We had hogs on the farm where I grew up. They never smelled as bad as Snuffy. Not even close.
I pulled the squad leader aside and told him to throw a 'blanket party' for Snuffy. I said, "Brief your squad and schedule a time. Throw a blanket over Snuffy, haul his sorry ass to the shower room, pour soap all over him and scrub him down with stiff brushes. Haul his foot locker and bunk to the shower, too. Dump his footlocker and hose everything down, bedding, too." The 'party' took place the following day and Snuffy finally got the message: shower daily and use the laundry.
You may think the blanket party was an overly severe solution. It was not. The squad leader had told Snuffy to clean up his act several times, with no result. It may be that poor old Snuffy had never even seen a shower, maybe didn't even have running water in his Appalachian shack, was used to smelling like a goat. Regardless, when you live in close quarters with a bunch of physically active men, you have 2 choices: keep yourself clean or suffer the consequences.
Still, I felt sorry for the guy. Obviously, his family was poverty stricken. Don't know how far Snuffy went in school, probably dropped out early on.
After the blanket party, Snuffy became something of a company pet. He got a lot of good-natured ribbing but took it well. We'd cheer him on as he completed various training segments. He'd grin (had his teeth pulled and replaced with choppers, so seeing his teeth didn't turn your stomach) and shyly acknowledge our tribute.
PS: Regular readers already know this. For those who stumbled onto this blog: I was commissioned as an infantry officer, first assignment was XO of a Basic Combat Training company. Second assignment was on the DMZ in Vietnam, advisor to a company of ARVN, the army of South Vietnam. Upon my return to the States, I was promoted to captain and finally got that cushy desk job - my last assignment.
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