Not quite a phantom shitter but here goes.
AF basic training at Lackland AFB. Feel free to laugh, its warranted. It was the 320th TRS at a time when that was not the place to be, but hey its the Air Force, how bad can it get? The MTI's in that squadron were mostly Security Forces types with a complex. Within the Air Force they catch shit for not being smart enough to get a real job with actual asvab requirements. When they play with people from other branches during wargames or deployments they catch shit for being Air Force pussies. Most of the MTI's were trying to prove how badass they were by playing R. Lee Irmy... in the Air Force. Feel free to laugh, its warranted. They themselves were products of the kinder gentler 90's, trying to act tough because it was post 9-11, and they didnt know how. The invasion of Iraq kicked off during 1st week (our second week there, because zero week doesn't count and all that.) And things only got more retarded. To quote super troopers, "Our shenanigans are cheeky and fun, Farve's Shenanigans are cruel and tragic."
They were doing the whole forced hydration thing like you wouldn't believe and we were in constant danger of pissing ourselves. 10am and we're outside the chow hall waiting for our flight's turn at lunch. A gaggle of TI's announced to us as they walked by that we would be getting a pee test in 2hrs. Anyone who can't produce will get recycled. Most trainees immediately began to chug the H20. In retrospect it was one of the few times being different paid off for me. We weren't allowed to pee until we were at the base hospital to provide samples. But delay after delay found us having eaten dinner and standing at attention in our PT gear in front of wall lockers later that evening. The MTI's were gone (presumably to sort out whatever nonsense was causing the delays,) and we were being watched by a hand full of sixth week trainees. The situation was devolving fast as the normal time for lights out approached. One of the trainees was doubled over in pain, clutching the top half of a riser rod on the bunkbed in front of him. As his entire body shook with the struggle, he admonished us for laughing at him. His thick Alabama accent, the content of his announcement and its context damn near made me piss myself. "Goddammit, nobody in here is laughing if they can help it, were all about to piss ourselves."
The OJTers as they were called were too scared to let anyone go to the latrine for fear of getting recycled because we couldn't produce. They were also scared one or many of us were going to piss ourselves. Which could just as easily get them recycled, back to zero week. As good order and discipline deteriorated, people's positions of attention began to look less and less military and more and more like a cross between lawyers trying to look dignified as they freeze to death at a bus stop and little kids doing pee pee dances. Some tried to keep it locked up but many had long since lost the fight. A handful had stooped to making pleas for mercy. The OJTers relented and allowed 6 trainees to hit the head on condition they pinched it off before running dry. A man about to piss himself will promise almost anything.
We were eventually loaded onto school busses and driven to the base hospital. It was beginning to look like we were all going to make it. We were marched into a room and lined up in order of urgency. I decided to hold off as long as I could to guarantee production. Another smart move, but for unexpected reasons. This put me 3rd from the end of the line. As we stood at attention in a room with no supervision, (the mind games were working pretty well at that point. God forbid someone should come in and catch us moving around) I was tapped on the shoulder by the guy behind me. "Dude, I think the guy behind me just pissed himself." I couldn't resist, I sneaked a peak and sure as shit, there was piss running down his leg.
Changing from one uniform to another like BDUs to PT gear was something the MTI's wanted done in 30sec. During the rush to get his PT gear on, dude man had neglected to move the contents of his BDU trouser pocket into his PT shorts pocket. One green military ID card and three AF form 341s. The pisser had tried to delay getting caught without his ID as long as he could and only succeeded in making things worse. No ID and he's just pissed himself.
Back at the barracks, our TI made a big show of having this kid put all of his clothes in a trash bag ridiculing and talking shit, drawing it all out for as long as he could. Just to make certain we all understood that peeing your pants isn't cool. For days after, during inspections or any other function during which other TIs were present, ours would lament, "My trainees piss themselves." Until one fine day, when the same old routine played out during a clothing drawer inspection, I detected a deviation. My brother flight's TI was saying the line this time and he ended it with, "My trainees shit themselves." I asked around during details the following day but no one else seemed to have caught it. I needed to know, this was bombshell stuff.
The answers came on KP duty a week later. This was a detail that sent us to another squadron's chow hall. We were allowed to eat all we wanted (including milk, cereal and desert) and bullshit with each other during breaks. KP was the shit, we weren't at the 320th, and life really was greener on the other side. We were all from the two brother flights so this was a chance for cross talk and valuable intel gathering.
"So whats this about TSgt Snuffy's trainees shitting themselves, did one of you idiots shit your pants? I gotta hear that story."
Dude man from another TI leaned back in embarasment, "Which one?"
"Wait, it happened more than once?"
"Ok, so the first one I don't really count. The dude was really sick and when he tried to piss at the urinal he sharted himself. The second one, lets just say that kids a fucking dumbass."
I got a more complete account later on in tech school from one of that flight's utility closet crew. The following is what I was best able to piece together from those two witness accounts. It was a Sunday and the dispensaries were closed, which meant that anyone hitting sick call had to go to the base hospital instead of the squadron dispensary. By this stage nearly all of us had the Lackland crud, but sick call was still just a game to score cough drops. The four people from my brother flight whose turn it was that day marched themselves over as a group and were sat down in the waiting room.
Under normal circumstances asking to go to the bathroom caught a trainee massive shit. "Service before self, sacrifice. What are you going to do when you get stuck on gate for 12 hrs with no relief!!! You need to learn how to reach down inside yourself and find the strength...." Feel free to laugh, its warranted. But for some odd reason, Dumbshit in question had taken that nonsense to heart. They weren't in the training area, a bathroom was right there in front of them. The hospital staff were not instructors and some of them were even civilian. He could have just gotten up and gone to a proper toilet without asking and not a single fuck would have been given. But not this guy. He put service before self, he sacrificed, he took one for the team. He took a totally unnecessary shit in his pants.
He told no one and bluffed it all the way back to the barracks just in time to catch the rest of his flight on its way to PT. He volunteered himself for door guard and stayed behind by himself as the others from sick call threw on PT gear and scrambled into the hallway for a head count. The coast was clear and he had at least an hour by himself. But the dumbshit waited. By the time he screwed up the courage to cover the window in the door and strip his soiled ganny panties and trousers, time was short. He had just gotten himself cleaned up and redressed when he heard the thundering of his flight and others crashing up the stairwell. He had just enough time to ball up the trousers with tighty whiteys, shit and all and toss them behind a laundry bag in the utility closet.
After the protocol for entry, the flight crashed in with their TI in the lead, "Laundry crew, start distributing the clean laundry we're all taking showers!!!" He reached into the closet and began pulling out laundry bags when, "What the piss!!! What the piss is this!!!" I dont know how it was possible but witnesses swore to it. The TI was able to read the laundry mark on the inside of the fly without making full discovery. "Trainee with laundry mark P1234!!! Front and center!!!"
A rather weak, "Proceeding Sir!" leaked out from the din at the rear of the bay as others scrambled out of their PT gear in preparation for a shower. As the shitty trainee shuffled toward the angry TI, said TI began to ball up the errant trousers when he stopped abruptly. "Shit!!!! Shit?!!?!? Fecal matter!!! You made me touch your fecal matter!!!" As the gap closed, the trousers were forcefully thrown at the trainee and the TI punched the first thing that came into view as he wheeled around toward the latrine. The bunk bed lurched, rods falling off, the mattress half on the floor and the sheets and blanket exploded from the mess. The latrine door slammed and like so many abused housewives in a panic at the sight of a drunken, angry husband, nearby trainees scrambled to rectify the bed, its end of bed and shoe displays before their angered TI re emerged. The others were unsure of what to do, get ready for a shower, stand around like dumbasses till someone yells at them. The TI could faintly be heard through the now locked latrine door, spewing legit profanity and genuine hatred instead of the approved BMT cuss words and show anger we'd all grown to expect.
And so it came to pass. My flight's digression had been surpassed by that of our brother flight.