American Sniper - Boekje Pienter

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The CO is the commanding officer of the Team; the OIC is the officer
in charge of the platoon. A pretty big difference, except in this
case.
“Guilty! Next charge!”
For every offense I was found guilty of—which meant anything
and everything they could make up—I had to take a drink of Jack
Daniels and Coke, followed by a shooter of Jack.
They got me pretty wasted before we even got to the felonies. At
some point, they stripped me down and put ice down my drawers. Finally
I passed out.
Then they spray-painted me, and for good measure, drew Playboy
bunnies on my chest and back with a marker. Just the sort of body art
you want for your honeymoon.
At some point, my friends apparently became concerned about my
health. So they taped me to a spine board completely naked, took me
outside, and stood me up in the snow. They left me for a while until I
regained some amount of consciousness. By then I was jackhammering
hard enough to put a hole through a bunker roof. They gave me an
IV—the saline helps cut down the alcohol in your system—and finally
took me back to the hotel, still taped to the spine board.
All I remember from the rest of the night is being lifted up a
bunch of stairs, apparently to my motel room. There must have been a
few spectators, because the boys were yelling, “Nothing to see here,
nothing to see!” as they carried me in.
Taya washed off most of the paint and the bunnies when I met up
with her the next day. But a few were still visible under my shirt. I kept
my jacket tightly buttoned for the ceremony.