I went through Army basic training at Ft. Jackson, SC in the summer of 1976, part of the last all-female basic training cycle at that post. By then female basic was a long way from the old, "white-glove" version. We trained on the M-16, threw hand grenades, pretty much everything the men did. But one day, toward the end of basic, we were marched to a small classroom in the piney woods. Inside was a dainty Southern belle from Maybelline, and long tables with bottles, jars, and tubes of makeup. We had long since stopped bothering with makeup, since it just ran in the South Carolina heat. That morning we had also gone through the obstacle course, and were covered with mud and sweat. But when we saw the makeup, we turned back into girls. We went for it, while the Southern belle waved her arms and said, "Please, don't use the makeup till you see the slide show!" Half an hour later, wearing lots of make-up, we were marched double-time to lunch, got all sweaty again, and had to stand at parade rest in the lunch line with mascara running down our faces. It was a perfect example of the Army sense of humor.