Kathy went to bed, and I started going over our Bug Out Bag for Hurricanes. It looks like this year could be a record breaking year. Last year, all the Hurricanes went either North of us, West of us, or South of us. So we lucked out. But we got nailed three years in a row back 2019. 2020, and 2021. No fun at all. We had to evacuate every time. So we take it pretty seriously.
Well in our little Bug Out Bag we have a box of MRE"'s that we got from the National Guard. (and thank you guys for giving up your Day Job for almost a month to help us all out! SALUTE!) I have never opened them. Nor have I ever tasted an MRE. But...C-rats. Well, that is a different story.

I ate tons of those, starting in Basic, then onto TigerLand, over in Germany, Hawaii, etc... any time we were in the Field Training, it was mostly C-rats. And since I was Straight Leg most of my career, you were ready to eat those things- even cold, congealed, and crappy.

I didn't smoke. So I saved all my cigarettes. I would sometimes trade them for peaches, or fruit cocktail. Other times, I would stash them in my ruck, to hand out to my Squad long after they had run out of cigarettes. And that chocolate that came in the Sundries packet (with a tooth brush made out of popsicle sticks) well, you didn't wolf that down in a hurry. Who ever invented that chocolate bar ...well, I hope they were fired!

I couldn't eat those crackers nowadays, you need all your teeth. And just reading the Label that says: Ham and Lima Beans, well, that is enough to make me puke. I learned how to trade the jellies, and the main meals, for things I liked. One of our guys loved Ham and Lima Beans, and I often got his fruit- plus a side of jelly for my stuff.

Beans and weenies, the spaghetti, and the ham and eggs were the favorites in my Platoon. And the gum, well, nobody traded those.

I never went to Combat, but I did witness a .45 pulled in anger...over C-rats. It got ugly, but we avoided a Court Marshall, and maybe a murder. Here is that story.

The Ten Mile Forced march we had to do once a Year in the Infantry was in full swing. It was in Hawaii, up and down steep lava ridges, gulleys, and ravines. The General at the time, did not believe in using the Road like previous years. Full Combat Load, two canteens of water, and off you go.

Well, it was hot, humid, and we went from the 3,000 foot level- to the 6,000 foot level on that march. So three guys fell out and got Profiled. They were put in the back of the Deuce and Half at the rear of the march. While we all walked. As you can imagine, blisters on feet, shoulders, and where your TA-50 rubbed you...were common. The poor Medics were popping blisters like bubble wrap. Guys were limping after every mandatory five minute break an hour. Three more guys were thrown in the back of the Deuce and half on Profile. Finally, we finished. Turns out the March wasn't ten miles at all. It was seventeen miles from the where they dropped us off in the middle of the cloud layer to start our march to Pohakuloa Training Area.

So we go to get the C-Rations (I know, you think we would have gotten a hot meal at PTA- but nope). The General was Hard Core. We would get a hot breakfast and stand down for a day the next day. So C-rations it was.

Suddenly there was a brouhaha at the back of the Deuce in a half. I ran around the corner of the truck just in time to see six soldiers huddled in the back of it. They were scared out of their mind. Waving a loaded .45 at them were two very pissed off Sergeants. I had to talk fast to get those two to put their weapons away.

"What the heck is going on here?"

One of the Supply guys still had his .45 out, but hanging limp at the end of his arm.

"Sarge, these pricks at all the fruit out of C- rations!"

"Yeah, and they took all the cigs too!"

Now there was a crowd of limping pissed off soldiers making a semi-circle around the truck. And then a voice boomed out. It was the Field First Sergeant. And never in my life had I been happier to see a pissed off First Sergeant- with a powerful command voice- take over.

How he handled it was both a real life exercise in Command and Control, but a lesson in how valuable experience and leadership is in a crisis. The Field First got everyone to stand down. Then he checked to see if they had indeed eaten all the fruit, and stolen the cigarettes. (Yes, to both. They only left the pears alone.)

He put those guys, under guard, in a hut. We ate our C rats with no fruit, But the next morning, bright and early, the Supply showed up. We got a hot breakfast - including pancakes, eggs, and bacon! Those six, well, they got Ham and Lima beans...cold.

Then we all watched as the Field First tied two cases of C-rats together with duck tape. He did that six times. Then he had those six men figure out how to jury rig those cases to their rucks. He gave them their weapons, TA-50, two canteens of water and then told them:
"You either get Article 15's or a Summary Court Marshal...if you don't do what I say. You six are going to March from PTA, to where they are building the Observatory without ever dropping those C-rats. If you do that. No UCMJ, but for the next five days we are up here...you will eat C-rats, with no fruit, and no cigs. Your choice. Start walking or I will start filling out your Article 15's.

That mountain is over 13,000 feet tall! There is no air. And it is all lava rock. Your boots are toast in just a couple days. Off they went. We were all on Stand down for 48 hours, but I swear the whole Company showed up to watch those guys. A lot of us without blisters or sprains, followed them up (without gear on) and yelled encouragement or sometimes not so encouraging comments about their masculinity, or girlfriends.

They only got the next day off for stand down. And true to his word, the First Sergeant made sure as long as we were on the Big Island, those six ate C- Rations. None of the Officers remarked about the incident when we got back to Schofield. And as far as I know, nothing Official was ever reported.

Funnily enough, nobody ever stole fruit...or cigs, from C-rats in the Field ever again.