Those are some small, claustrophobic places right on the front of the line. Not sure I could do it. But we all do what we have to in time of need.

It fulfilled a desire to be 'macho'. It was a pleasure I recall with a sense of guilt now, since I've basically become a pacifist. (Nearly getting Scudded during the Gulf in 1991 pretty much took its toll.)

As for any claustrophobia, my parents inadvertently ensured I wouldn't have any.

When I was three or four, whenever I acted up, my mother would lock me in their closet for a while. There was a friendly, reassuring gleam of light showing from under the closet door, so I wasn't afraid. My father's Army duffel bag was on the floor in there. It was soft, so I would lay down on it and go to sleep. I liked it in there.

So years later, buttoned up in a tank, I felt no fear or discomfort.