Steve Featherkile said:
Ken Brunt said:
For all you ex-grunts out there, I’m sure you’ll recognize this gourmet item…
That crap used to give me heartburn like you would not believe. I didn’t need THAT trompin’ through the paddies!
I had to laugh about the description of Ham and M… F… I am too young for C-rations. But I remember being surprised when my Dad told me about how he heated his C-rations with C-4. I about fell out of my chair.
He said it was great, “No smoke so the “gook” couldn’t find you.” I laugh today remembering how he told me, “It was great but don’t stamp out the fire with your boot after you were done!”
I had the pleasure of eating MREs and I was in after Desert Storm. So the Army had an overabundance of Ham MREs. The Arabs wont eat Pork as it is considered a “dirty meat” in their customs (stating a fact please don’t turn it into political!!). I ate a lot of Ham and rice and whatever else had Ham in it.
Used to make a mixture of Chocolate coco mix, creamer, and water from MRE. They called it “ranger pudding!”
Have eaten the newer MRE’s… Never did get any water for them, I’d just bite off a chunk and let the saliva wet it up to chew…
Worked a few older MRE’s too, and I also carry a P-38 on my key ring…
“That crap used to give me heartburn like you would not believe. I didn’t need THAT trompin’ through the paddies!”
Another gourmet delight was the coffee…Hobo Coffee…boiled in your steel pot(helmet) over a C-4 stove, with a handful of coffee grounds thrown in and then let the grounds settle to the bottom. To this day I still drink my coffee black, no cream, no sugar…some habits never die…
If Starbucks ever sells that stuff they’d have Nam vets lined up around the corner…
If its ok, I’d like to tell the story of two vets that I met when I was younger.
One man I met when I was 16 seemed older than G-d, though he was probably my age now, or perhaps a few years older. He had flown “Kites,” as he called them, with Captain Eddie Rickenbacher, during WWI. Since,at the time, I was convinced that I was going to fly fighters off aircraft carriers, I wanted to ask him a lot of questions, like, “Did you enjoy flying?” “Yes, it was better than being in the trenches.” How many Germans did you shoot down?" “Some, I guess.” “Were you ever scared?” “Yes, all the time.” “They say that some people can have nightmares after being in a war, is that true?” “I suppose so.” Now, remember, I was 16, and stupid. “Do you have nightmares?” Long pause. “Yes.” “When was your last one?” Another long pause. “Last night.”
This was in 1962, and that one conversation began to change my ideas about going to war. This is not political, just a young man’s journey to maturity. I still served 22 years, but with my eyes open.
Another gentleman that I knew, was a member of my church. I knew him to be one of the most gentle, most caring men that I’ve ever met. I was on active duty at the time, stationed aboard USS MCCLUSKY (FFG-41). It was Veteran’s Day weekend, and he thanked me for my service. He had a slight limp, and I had been told that he had been wounded in WWII. I asked him where he had served during the war. Long pause. “Burma,” he said. “With Merrill,” I asked, because I knew that was probably the only operation of note that we had going on in Burma during WWII. He had a surprised look on his face. “You are the first person that has ever said he knew anything about General Merrill.” Now it was my turn to be surprised, on two counts. First, that no one else knew about the great contribution of Merrill’s Marauders, and, second, that this gentle, caring man had once been a great warrior who fought with distinction, and survived extreme hardship while doing so.
You just never know, do you.
Thanks Steve, highly interesting read.
Being involved in funerals these days it never surprises me about what I learn about the person whose body lies in the coffin.
Recently we said farewell to a parishioner, who as a young navy man during WW2 was a volunteer who helped get the crippled oil tanker OHIO to Malta. This tanker and other vessels with food, plus the replacement RAF aircraft was what saved Malta for the allies, eventually helping to get Axis forces out of North Africa.
Steve, I’ve really enjoyed your stories here today, especially the one about taking John back to see his old ship. That brought a tear to my eye.
Then I got to your post about the gentleman who served with Merrill in Burma.
That’s a big part of our family history.
In Burma there was a certain Irish priest … if you know the story of Merrill, you know about Father Charles Stuart. He knew the native villages and the people, and provided Merrill with the inside info, the guidance, and the translation services he needed. The big secret at the time was that a man of God was taking sides. He played a major part in the drama advising Merrill of the position, strength, and movements of the enemy throughout the bush, but it all had to be kept hush hush and I believe that the Church oficially denied his involvement 'til quite long after the war.
Anyway, long story short, this Fr. Charles Stuart was my wife’s uncle.
When she was a kid he visited their northern Ireland farm many times. It was in fact his home from home there. Whenever he visited he had the only Kodak in the district, so all the family photos were taken by him.
We have a publication made after the war by his Congregation of priests in which his story is told, along with that of several other hero-priests. His face is the one on the cover, and he sure looks more like a marauder than a priest. He’s wearing one of those Aussie hats with the brim turned up on one side. Some of the stories told of the supreme sacrifices made really are eye-openers of grand and heroic proportions.
Thanks for the stories!
And to Dave Taylor: as Lou said, you may be certain that your seventeen year old will change with time.