I will set the scene.
An IG (Inspector General) inspection was coming up. In the USMC at that time, and probably still is, meant that it was full locker/junk-on-the-bunk, footlocker and personal inspection all at once. Leading up to this wonderful time there were about 8-10 inspections to get us ready. This is about the 3rd inspection.
Being stationed in San Diego, puts us in close proximity to Tijuana, Mexico, where it is legal to drink. The night before the 3rd inspection some of the guys went down to Tijuana and got back about 1/2 hour before inspection, still very, very drunk. We didn't give them too much attention, because we were scurrying around getting the barracks and everything ready.
Finally, our NCO called us to attention. We are all standing beside our racks, everything laid out, footlockers open, locker doors ajar, everything was just so. While waiting for the base Commanding General and entourage to get to us, we realize that the fellows that had gone out to Tijuana the night before, were nowhere to be seen and that their racks and stuff were untouched.
At that point there was nothing we could do but tough it out.
Finally, the General and his entourage gets to us, and as is typical is critical of anything and everything. (Later I came to realize why, but then it was disheartening).
The General gets to the fellow's rack that is not touched, said something that we couldn't hear to our officer, then flips open the guys footlocker, which is also untouched. Scowling, he steps over and opens the wall locker belonging to this guy.
And there, crouched in the wall locker is the very drunk marine. He simply turns his head to the General and says in that quiet elevator operator voice "Going Up Sir!"
The General closed the locker door, turned and walked out of the squad bay.