I was assigned kitchen police for the day. Working in the clipper washing dishes, pots and pans, and peeling potatoes meant I needed a good, hot shower when I got back to the barracks. However, the latrine orderly refused to allow me in for even a quick shower.

That's when the fight started.

You can't refuse a dirty, smelly and hard-headed Dutchman a shower.

After rolling, wrestling and punching on the latrine floor, a small amount of blood did flow. Fortunately, the training instructor interrupted the contest. Both of us gave an explanation of the cause of the fight. Our training instructor settled the affair by awarding me a shower—with the provision that I finish cleaning the latrine after showering. Both combatants agreed to his proposal and there were no further problems.

A month later we became friends and spent the next six months together at Keesler Air Force Base.