EXPOSED FLESH FREEZES...

Been here, done this, do not recommend it.

There are some things best done in the comfort of a heated, well-appointed bathroom.  Pity then the poor soldier trying to survive in the arctic or sub-arctic.  The Great Queen provides him with a tent, concentrated rations, warm clothing and snowshoes but alas, no heated bathroom.  He has to make other arrangements when his digestive tract is in need of purging.

There is an essential ritual involved.  To begin with, he doesn't even think about answering the urge while on the trail.  He can act only after last light when the tent is up and the mountain stove has raised the interior temperature to a balmy +2 C.  Fortunately, the delay is not difficult thanks to the concentrated rations that apparently contain something normally used to set concrete.

Once the five troopers stuffed into the smallish tent have lit the Coleman lantern and put on the coffee, the soldier in need of a dump signals his intention and begins the preparation.  He unzips his parka, unbuttons his nylon wind pants, drops his suspenders, unties the drawstring on his flannel insulation pants and unbuttons his boxers.  He then grasps the garments in his wiping hand leaving thumb and index finger free to pinch a pad of toilet paper and with his gloved hand indicates that his buddies should open the tent flap.  When the flap opens, he steps manfully out into the night.  The flap closes behind him.

On a moonless night it may be blacker than the inside of a moose and it may be -40 C. or worse.  For the former reason and in deference to esthetic and sanitary sensibilities, he shuffles five steps forward, turns left, goes 10 steps, turns left, takes 5 more paces, turns about and tramps down the snow.  His time has come and this is the agreed drop zone.  He releases his grip on his undone garments and assumes the crouch position.  At that moment the words of his arctic instructor come to mind - "...exposed flesh may freeze in as little as 45 seconds."  He is acutely aware of exactly what he has exposed which gives him motivation to make one almighty, eye-crossing, vein popping heave followed by a cursory wipe.  He reaches down with his gloved hand, grabs his various drawers and hikes 5 paces forward, right 10 paces and as he turns for the last 5 steps he bellows, "Open her up!"

Once in the tent his buddies join him in a careful inspection to ascertain whether he laid it in the snow, dropped it in his wind pants, crapped on his heels or flung it over his head with his dangling suspenders. Any outcome other than the first results in his being sent back into the cold to rectify the problem.

There were several reasons why I elected to leave the army.  This was probably one of them.