LOL, you mean like the guy in the movie "Jackass" who sneaks up on people in their group with a pair of electric clippers and takes a retangular clump of hair out before they figure it out, or the ones where all the hair comes off?
Of course, in the pre-politically correct days in the military, there was always some kind of hazing that was accepted. The stuff I saw, nobody got hurt, but we could have.
There was one initiation where a bunch of people would wrestle a person to the ground and smear him with a thick, gooey black molybdenum based grease that was nearly impossible to get off with anything other than a butter knife and jet fuel. This was your initiation to "The Line Shack" where the plane captains had to work for a year or two.
Basically, everyone would lie in wait, and when the person would walk in everyone jumped them and wrestled them to the ground. If you were the object, you were expected to put up a struggle.
The harder the struggle and the longer it took, the more respect you got, and size was factored in. Once done, that was it, and you were expected to participate in other "greasings" as they called them, though you didn't have to, and nobody made a fuss if you didn't.
I never saw anyone get hurt, and to this day that amazes me, because there were often desks and chairs being overturned, and fairly violent struggles as the scrum of people went back and forth in a compartment made of steel.
There were a few guys who just went limp and let themselves get the grease. They were repeatedly targeted for greasing.
One night on the ship, I was walking to the line shack, and as I approached a hatch, the upper part of a human body suddenly lunged into the passageway, then as the person gripped the edges was pulled back. I only saw that half as I approached. The guy yelled out "Help! Help me!" and as I passed, I saw a group of guys, laughing and grinning, pulling him inexorably back into the compartment. One could only imagine...
I did see one incident that, to this day, impresses me.
We had a young Airman Apprentice, Timothy Narumaya, arrive in our squadron one day. He was about 5'4", and oddly enough, we had heard a few stories about him through the grapevine as he progressed through the training squadron.
This was the guy (picture is blurry from the cruise book):
They said he was some ridiculous thing like a 10th degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do (I remember someone saying that, but I don't even know if that is a real ranking...you know how those types of stories are!) Well, he didn't disappoint.
That guy knew something, and we saw him in the hangar bay one day sparring with the top seargent in the Marine detachment, who was a physically impressive and big guy. (He was later the top ranking enlisted Marine killed in the Beruit barracks bombing...GySgt Douglass.)
Anyway, the guy KNEW stuff, and giving away height and weight, was impressive to us watching.
So, one day he goes up to the flight deck, and we were all lying in wait when he came down to jump him and "grease" him.
The hatch opened, he walked in and saw us all standing there looking at him. He said: "You can do what you want, but I won't be responsible if anyone goes to Sick Bay."
Nobody moved a muscle...:)
Forever after, everyone called him "Bruce" not "Tim"...