I was about 10th from the front of the haircut line when I heard the God-awful commotion near the rear. Of course, no one dared to turn around to look. Only after the poor fellow was dragged to the front was when it was revealed. He had a 3-inch spiked Mohawk! While he was in the chair getting cut, the drill instructors were still in his face when one asked "Mr. Spikey" his name.

"Sir, Pvt. Castro, sir," he said.

Three months later, Castro was, in my opinion, the best recruit in the company.