A plaintive cry from the ranks: Feed me!

We should have seen it coming. In fact, back in 1996 when the military threw a huge No. 9 monkey-wrench into the system, many in uniform did speculate that the way people in uniform were fed was headed for the garbage bin. Now comes news from Ft. Carson, Colorado and several other military bases that the guys and gals trying to eat at least a couple meals a day in on-base facilities can’t get enough chow. And what little they can get when—or mostly if—an on-base eatery is open for serving turns out to be skimpy, unappetizing, undercooked, or unfit for consumption.

That’s a hell of a note and needs to be fixed in a hurry. What’s depressing and disappointing is how we got to the point where our military is in this kind of fix. Where’s the old “three hots and a cot” implied promise that came with enlistment? If you ask me, it’s all part and parcel of efforts to take the rough edges off military service that began after a decade of unpopular war in Vietnam coupled with the end of the draft. That’s a bit simplistic and there’s likely much more to it, but let’s start there.

One of the most common source of gripes and military humor during World War II and after that among those who served in Korea or Vietnam was the quality of military messhall meals. Choking down unappetizing field rations was never going to be an epicurean delight. Everyone in uniform knew that and expected the minimum from tasteless prepackaged chow while they were in the field. But when they were in rear areas or garrisons where military cooks prepared and served hot meals, expectations were a bit higher. And despite all the stereotypes of fat, flyblown, uncaring mess sergeants, what they got was—for the most part—warm, palatable, and even tasty on occasion.

As an enlisted man, I ate in Marine Corps messhalls around the world for more than a decade. Except for Thursdays when the standard menu called for liver and onions, it was fairly good stuff, certainly filling if not fancy. I’m told that the liver served at Camp Pendleton was often carried away from the messhall to use as patches for worn-out combat boots. I never tried that but I believe it to be true to this day. If nothing else, it’s an example of the bad rap and standard humor that infused the ranks. All that aside, messhalls or chowhalls feeding troops of all services three or more times daily, served up a menu that might not always be a taste treat, but it was filling and fortifying according to standards that were outlined and clearly specified.

Then the world turned. Recruiting became a challenge minus the impetus of mandatory selective military service. Military leaders were casting about desperately to make service more palatable—pun intended—to young people used to a softer lifestyle. There were all sorts of dumb-ass innovations and disruptions in the ranks. Faddish uniform changes came and went through the services like crap through a tinhorn. Basic training Drill Sergeants, Drill Instructors, and Leading Petty Officers were ordered to tone it down and make a recruit’s first days a kinder, gentler transition. And of course, something had to be done about military cuisine that carried an especially bad image fostered by family vets who made eating in the military akin to an automatic gag reflex.

The initial knee-jerk cosmetic move was to change the messhalls or chowhalls into Dining Facilities (DeeFac’s in military shorthand) with lots of healthy salads and a convivial atmosphere. Unknown who came up with that bright idea but it was clearly some unlettered buffoon. In old French mes simply means meal which explains the origin of the term messhall. Regardless, the services insisted on painting lipstick on the pig and nuked another military tradition. If high-level planners and policy wonks thought this kind of thing would suck soldiers and sailors away from the omnipresent roach coaches making the rounds on bases and into the messhalls for better nutrition, they were sorely mistaken. Bitching about military chow continued unabated. It just wasn’t what troops nurtured under the golden arches wanted.

A momentous decision was made by star-spangled senior officers who probably hadn’t eaten in a military messhall since Christ was a lance corporal. The innovation was to turn this messy and unglamorous business of cooking and feeding the troops over to civilians with experience in franchise fast-food business or large scale catering. No more KP duties for junior troops or miscreants. Of course, once that camel got its nose under the tent, military bases worldwide were beset by civilian-run burger joints and pizza parlors. All those savvy, experienced mess sergeants suddenly became under-appreciated afterthoughts. Those folks could take their years of experience feeding troops nourishing food and running massive messhalls all over the world right out to the dumpster.

Suddenly, the military just didn’t need all the cooks and bakers that used to reliably feed the troops. What few solid food services people remained in uniform were looking for other work or directions to the main gate. A few who could boast cordon bleu credentials went to the White House or into some elitist dining facility for senior officers or defense execs. And here we sit. Another failed experiment in civilianization of an outfit that is inherently unlike any civilian organization in both mission and methods.

If there’s any upside to this military food services fiasco, it can be found in the US Navy which trains and maintains a good bunch of cooks and bakers for service aboard ships of the fleet. You can’t employ inexperienced civilian burger barons aboard deployed vessels where they’d have to work long, arduous hours in cramped muggy conditions. That requires people who want to be there because what they do serves the fleet and by extension the nation. A solution would be to commence a service-wide food-service purge. Boot the incompetent clowns out of our messhalls and polish up the image and appreciation for military cooks and bakers who can and will keep our troops fed. No more excuses. And no more meals like the one served at Ft. Carson, home of the entire 4^th Infantry Division, which consisted of a scoop of undercooked lima beans and a slice of dry toast. Bring back the old mess sergeants who would die before they served something like that to their units.

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