Do sister services have anything like the Navy's Crossing the Line Ceremony?

So, let me start with a caveat: in today's PC world, I can't imagine that the Navy still allows this in the form that I experienced it -- I have to believe it's significantly watered down. Perhaps some currently-serving Shellbacks can chime in on the issue. Anyway, do any of the other Services have anything like this?:

So, in the Navy, any Sailor that has never crossed the equator is termed a 'Wog'. Sailors that have crossed, and gone through the ceremony I'm about to describe, are 'Shellbacks'. This is (or at least, was) a VERY coveted title, and you will find that most most Shellbacks guard their card (which newly-minted Shellbacks receive upon completion of the Ceremony) with as much care and attention as they eventually do their DD-214...because without it, the next time you cross, you're going through all this again.

On my ship, preparations began 3 weeks in advance, on WESTPAC. These preparations took the form of...the mess decks began saving up ALL their garbage. And they were wily bastards about it, too, because every Wog on the ship was looking for it, to toss as much as we could (in those days garbage went over the side). They hid it, put it in locked compartments, etc etc. Sometimes it was maddening because as you can imagine, a Sailor might walk past a compartment and SMELL the contents, but be unable to do much about it....usually. Sometimes, those locks got mysteriously broken. Regardless, there was probably at least half a ton of nasty, rotten, disgusting slime and garbage on the day of crossing.

The next important thing you need to know is the concept of non-skid. You'll see why in a moment: as you can imagine, the weather decks of most ships generally have two states: wet, or freaking HOT if you're operating somewhere warm...like, ya know, the friggen equator! Being constructed of steel...that's not good. So they're all coated with non-skid. Imagine large grains of sand covered in tar, and then epoxied, to be hard, and applied with a paint roller, leaving hard, jagged ridges that are VERY effective at traction...and really, really suck for Wogs.

The final pre-knowledge you need is that rank goes out the window for this ceremony. I've never heard of it happening, because most Captains are Shellbacks by the time they get a command, but if the CO was a Wog...he'd be on his hands and knees with the rest of us. At least, back then. That's an extreme example. I've never seen that. I did, however, see PLENTY of Ensigns through Lt. Commanders, and senior enlisted sharing the suck.

So the big day arrives. We go to morning formation as usual, where we are instructed to return to quarters, and report to the main deck...with our dungaree pants on backwards, and in t-shirt, not the usual dungaree blouse. Being an obedient Sailor, I did just that..but tried to stand behind a refueling rig. You know. Just to be less visible. I was not alone in this...obfuscation, but I'll get to that in a bit.

So the first thing that we notice is that most of the Shellbacks (easy to recognize, because they had their pants on right. And were grinning evilly, to a goddamned man!) were holding lengths of 1.5" fire hoses. And there were eggs. Lots and lots of eggs. Thousands, it seemed like. And peanut butter. Tubs and tubs of the stuff.

Wogs are ordered to hands and knees. And THIS is why that non-skid comes into play: the ceremony lasted at LEAST 6 hours. On burning hot, sharp non-skid. By the end of it, your hands and knees are literally bloody. (This isn't happening today, I can almost guarantee). Then, they run the gauntlet, crawling. As they pass Shellbacks, eggs are stuffed down their open pants, peanut butter is slathered on heads and bums...and then they're whipped by those hoses, shattering the eggs...etc etc. By the end of it, it's highly likely that a Sailor's bum is bleeding, too. Personally, I just bruised really heavily.

After a few hours of that, Wogs are ordered up to the flight deck...where all the garbage is. In enclosed, vinyl chutes that they have to crawl through. In giant wooden chests that are filled to the brim with garbage and water that they have to climb into, and submerge. It's another gauntlet, all the while being yelled at and whipped. Some are ordered to blow out tie-downs...with 3" fire hoses blowing into them. This will continue for another couple of hours.

Finally, at the end of it all, Wogs are sent to the rails, where they are required to call for Flipper the Dolphin. Repeatedly. Loudly. My ship was in formation with a couple of destroyers, and we could hear the other crews calling from about a half mile. I imagine they heard us, too.

There was a lot of screaming, yelling, whining, whimpering. I think it's not hard to imagine, heh. Thing is, I don't remember anyone dropping out (which was an 'option'....but one you'd never live down).

My experience was slightly different, because of the 5 minutes or so that I tried to be less visible lol. A wily Chief Shellback collared me and promptly named me the Wog Dog. So I got to do the whole experience on a leash, while barking and growling and trying to bite people. There was also the Wog-Bitch (a Wog dressed, make up and all, as a woman. Forgive the term, that's what it was actually called, then), King Neptune (The CO in my case), and Davey Jones...the chubbiest Chief, Senior Chief, or Master Chief on the ship. Wogs were required, in the gauntlet, to rub their faces in Davey Jones' belly.

Remember the 'rank is out the window' thing? So, yeah. Being young and stupid, but wanting to be the best Wog-Dog I could be, I bit King Neptune on the shin, marking probably the only time in military history that a junior enlisted can accost his CO! He just cursed, kicked at me, and laughed while glaring at the Chief holding my leash.

So after all that, we're exhausted, drooping, stinking to high heaven, and we're told to form up, whereupon they blast us with fire hoses (by this time, that's actually a relief, what with all the garbage and eggs and peanut butter and bloody knees and palms, etc. And finally, FINALLY issued our Shellback cards....and dismissed, given the next day entirely off (this is unheard of at sea in any other situation, so that might tell you how...severe...the Ceremony can be!)

All in all, it really sucked. It also ranks as one of my proudest moments in the Navy. You see, this is a tradition, a Naval tradition, that dates far back to before the Americas were even discovered.

By the way, I think embarked Marines have to do it, too.

So how about it? What's YOUR service's tradition like this?