Almost same thing happened to me at Mathews, Platoon 209. It was January 1962 and we were all shivering to the bone. Back in the tent area we had gone from port to order arms and then given the command to “stack arms” and then back to “order arms” and I goy my stacking swivel caught in my trouser front pocket at which time I was assailed as having numb-nuts and my rifle was hurled into what ever was growing, and I’m not sure it was ice plant, but what ever it was I stepped in it when “instructed” to get my rifle and of course hell descended on me. Side story: When we arrived at Mathews one of the first things we did, you’ll remember, was to get a shooting jacket. On mine was the name “Everly, D.” That’s right, Don Everly. The brothers were four weeks ahead of us. I slowly removed the tape and it was headed for my pocket, when one of our D.I’s caught me. It cost me 100 push-ups and the D. I. kept the tape. I too came down with pneumonia but did not catch up with 209. My new platoon, 312, was assigned Depot Police that last week of boot camp while 209 had mess duty. Thank you, God!!