I have my dad’s diary from when he was in the Navy during WW2, and he writes extensively about going on liberty with his mates to the local whore houses in Naples and Marseilles. A few days after the first such liberty, he writes of how there was a personal inspection, and ‘some of the boys caught hell,’ from the medic.
I “caught hell” twice (Navy, '64-'68). The second time came with a threat. The brass didn’t take it lightly. They provided rubbers for the asking, but I “didn’t like” them. A couple doses of clap taught me a new appreciation, though. That, and 3 shots;day for 7 days for each occurance. Plus restriction until medical cleared me. No trust. Imagine that! Liberty was a precious and rare thing over there. 
I was named as a sexual contact for someone under treatment for gonorrhea. Even though my STD culture came back clean, I had to have a painful antibiotic shot in the ass, two weeks’ worth of oral antibiotics taken under supervision, and get a series of Hep B vaccinations.
Fun, fun. Suffice it to say, I never spoke to the SOB again.
Robin
Every now and then there came the OD through the camp with the order, “Fall out in raincoats and overshoes.” So everybody stripped, donned a raincoat and put on overshoes to pass before the medical officer for “shortarm inspection.” Venereal cases would be then pulled out and sent to the dispensary, or hospital as the case may be. There was never a case detected to my knowledge at any of the inspections I was part of.
I can’t believe this just slipped by. Smooth, and very funny.