Fleet Marine Life #112 – 4th Amendment
“The Fourth Amendment (Amendment IV) to the United States Constitution is the part of the Bill of Rights which guards against unreasonable searches and seizures, along with requiring any warrant to be judicially sanctioned and supported by probable cause. It was adopted as a response to the abuse of the writ of assistance, which is a type of general search warrant, in the American Revolution. Search and arrest should be limited in scope according to specific information supplied to the issuing court, usually by a law enforcement officer, who has sworn by it.”
If there’s one thing higher ups love doing, it would be fucking junior Marines over. One such tool that they can do this is through surprise “Health and comfort inspections.” This is when the higher ups can barge into your room and look to see how you’re living. It’s also an opportunity for them to catch you with your pants down so that they can charge you for shit like having one too many bottles of alcohol.
One day, my higher ups did a surprise health and comfort inspection when everyone was at work. They confiscated my unopened bottle of Grey Goose since it was “unsecure.” It was in my drawer and I was of age.
I used to keep bottles and bottles of alcohol. Unfortunately, I’m only allowed to keep a small amount of alcohol due to dumb USMC rules. Many Marines, like me, don’t follow this rule. They just simply have all the extra alcohol locked up in their wall locker.
A guy in my squad got busted for keeping spice out all over his barracks room. How’d the authorities find out? Health and Comfort, mother fuckers!
As far as I know, your higher ups cannot look through your shit if it’s locked. There’s supposed to be a certain degree of privacy. But… since you don’t own the barracks you live in, you shouldn’t expect any level of real privacy. Only a high ranking officer, with a reasonable cause, can truly look through your locked shit. If your Sergeant tries to do so and throws rank, just throw request mast.
P.S. If you live in the barracks, don’t answer your door. Ever.
Getting our shit searched for imaginary drugs since 1775.