American Sniper - Boekje Pienter

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Being SEALs, they were chomping at the bit, but we held them
back, treating them like gofers at first: Hey, go line the Hummers up
so we can go. It was a protection thing; after all we’d just been
through, we didn’t want them getting hurt out in the field.
We did have to haze them, of course. This one poor fella, we
shaved his head and his eyebrows, then spray-glued the hair back on
his face.
While we were in the middle of that, another new guy walked into
the outer room.
“You don’t want to go in there,” warned one of our officers.
The new guy peeked in and saw his buddy getting pummeled.
“I gotta.”
“You don’t want to go in there,” repeated the officer. “It’s not going
to end well.”
“I have to. He’s my buddy.”
“Your funeral,” said the officer, or words to that effect.
New guy number two ran into the room. We respected the fact
that he was coming to his friend’s rescue, and showered him with affection.
Then we shaved him, too, taped them together, and stood
them in the corner.
Just for a few minutes.
We also hazed a new-guy officer. He got about what everyone got, but
didn’t take it too well.
He didn’t like the idea of being mishandled by some dirty enlisted
men.