While I’m essentially done with my military involvement, I’m confident that my opinion is mirrored by a huge chunk, if not the overwhelming bulk, of people in uniform: we don’t care. Specifically, no one really cares about anybody else’s junk. Sure, we live and conduct personal hygiene in some relatively immodest ways. Yes, the transcript veers a bit into the graphic from time to time. Indeed, there was some historically reactionary attitude offered toward the alternative lifestyles crowd.
Yet the military is first and foremost about rounds on target in support and defense of the U.S. Constitution. It has never been about being a dating service.
My own military involvement ground to a halt several decades ago, during a period where you could be drummed out of the service just for looking crossways at the wrong time, but I suspect — admittedly, it didn’t occur to me to ask — that most of us 1970s-vintage grunts really didn’t give a flip one way or the other, occasional bouts of OGA* notwithstanding, and if the NCOs and the officers were doing their job morale-wise, none of us were likely to rat on a suspect unless he’d slipped from latent to blatant, and possibly not even then. There was a war on at the time, after all, and we might have been thinking that if our unit drew too much of the wrong kind of attention, it might mean an unexpected billet for one or several of us in, um, a less-desirable duty station somewhere down the line. Of course, we wouldn’t say that out loud, either.
* Organized grab-ass [a term poached from the Marines, who, well, organized it].