About two weeks into Boot Camp we were called outside our Quonset huts for mail call. One of my buddies in my hut got a package and was ordered by our DI to open it in front of the Platoon. The cookies that came out of the box looked wonderful.

I just knew my buddy was going to share those cookies with his bunkmates and I was salivating. At that point our DI advised us our bunkmate was going to save our lives. Our DI told him that he would consume, on the spot in front of everyone, all the cookies in the box. There had to be a dozen fine chocolate chip cookies. He shoveled them in one after another as fast as he could chew while being yelled as a pogey bait recruit not worthy of the Corps, etc., etc.

Within three or four minutes he was finished at which point he was ordered to do PT with his M-1 at high port. I think it took maybe 7 or 8 minutes before he puked those cookies.

That night after lights out I wrote a quick letter to my Mom saying "If you love me do not send cookies or anything that can be eaten. It doesn't mean I don't love your cooking. Better yet, don't send me anything that has to fit in a box.

To this day, 55 years later I rarely eat a cookies or candy.