This could be GQ, but I thought it was probably more mundane than general.
Picture it: Late August, 1967. I have just had my 18th birthday, and I have a date with Uncle Sam. About a week before going off to college, I must let my body be examined for medical fitness for the ::shudder:: draft.
The beginning - no real surprises. Strip down to shorts, stand in long lines, go off in batches to be examined. The batches of guys are taken over to another part of a large room. They are told to strip off their shorts and drop them between their feet. A doctor will come along and “Turn your head and cough.” Again, no surprises. But then, the instructions were to: “bend over and spread your cheeks with your hands” while the doctor and one or two others go down the back of the line and shine a light up into the revealed orifice.
So what were they looking for? Hemorrhoids? Evidence of anal intercourse? Aesthetically unpleasing anuses?
I was not fortunate enough to actually participate in this ritual, as I had my doctor interview first, and my asthma got me a 1-Y rating, so I was thereupon deemed unworthy of forced military service and dismissed. But the curiosity lingered, so any military doctors or other knowledgeables are welcome to satisfy same.