Food for Thought
Archer describes the C-ration diet of the Marines at Khe Sanh during the 1968 battle.
My previous blog posting about sheltering in place at Khe Sanh in 1968 resulted in some interesting conversations. As millions all over the world are currently learning: Each day consists basically of staying safe and deciding what to have for the next meal.
During the siege of Khe Sanh, we subsisted entirely on C-Ration meals, which we heated individually in the can over little, blue-flamed heat tablets. Each meal was designed to provide an intake of about 1,200 calories. Since we were largely sedentary, most of us ate just two meals a day. We had a relatively broad menu of a dozen “entrees” to choose from, but not all meals were, in the words of a of the Declaration of Independence, “created equal.” Early on, I decided that the only main course fit for my underindulged, middle-class American palate was Beans with Frankfurter Chunks in Tomato Sauce. For over seventy days straight, I had that for breakfast and dinner. It came with a small tin of hickory-flavored cheese that I melted on top. It was pretty good.
The Accessory Pack for all C-Ration meals came with salt, pepper, sugar, instant coffee, non-dairy creamer, two pieces of candy-coated chewing gum, a four-pack of commercial-grade cigarettes, a book of moisture-proof matches, and a packet of toilet paper—so it was unnecessary to hoard TP, as happened widely, and early on, in our current lockdown.
But certain types of hoarding did occur. In my area of the Khe Sanh Combat Base, cartons of C-Rations were set out at a certain location every day, or two. It was important to have early information as to when those new cartons would arrive, so as to give us a chance at getting the good stuff. Cultivating sources close to those suppliers was crucial, and often came with the price of having to give up a nice dessert to the informant for having been provided the opportunity to get there first. It wasn’t necessarily a Black Market; but it was certainly the kind of quid-pro-quo favoritism not too dissimilar from that seen in almost every episode of The Sopranos.
Once tipped off, I would, like other connected guys, race to the distribution point and, ignoring the policy of taking a single, intact boxed meal from the carton, would rifle through all the boxes to pick out the best stuff, usually sweets like pound cake, cinnamon roll and peach slices in syrup. Those at the end of this information chain were left with the least appetizing cans of food. The most unappetizing of those, as every Marine can attest—Ham and Lima Beans in Juices.
As far back as the Korean War, this meal had earned a variety of disparaging monikers. The one most used in Vietnam was “Ham & MoFos,” or simply “MoFos” [I trust almost everyone reading this will be able to translate the abbreviation into our fully-articulated nom de guerre]. There are many theories about why it was so disliked. Mine, simply, is because of its nauseating appearance. To illustrate this, see comparative photos of what it looked like cold and congealed just after opening the can (left), and then again, after it was heated for consumption (lower right). As you can see, it’s hard to imagine how the latter could possibly look different after regurgitation.
Rumors abounded about MoFos. As an example, I was told by a “reliable source,” that if we fed them to any of the POWs we captured, it would be a violation of the Geneva Convention. Yet, some people relished the dish, as I described in this somewhat comical—but true—excerpt from The Gunpowder Prince: How Marine Corps Captain Mirza Munir Baig Saved Khe Sanh—
Our C-rations were a regular joke in the FSCC room because Captain Baig, despite his lean frame, had a prodigious appetite. When supplies dwindled, he ate things others would not, like the much-maligned Ham and Lima Beans. A radio operator once asked, “Captain Baig, I thought Muslims couldn’t eat pork?” Without missing a beat (or a bite) Baig replied with a wry smile: “That is true, but when we kill the infidel, Allah will give us dispensations.” Everyone laughed, until another radio operator interrupted, saying: “I don’t know what we’re laughing about, to Captain Baig—we’re all infidels!” It was true that Baig entertainingly referred to those of us around him, and the NVA, as “infidels;” but it was clear from his punishing attacks on the latter just which infidels would be providing the dispensations.
After the peacetime draft began in 1940, in anticipation of American involvement in World War II, soldiers began complaining about the quality of the food in the field, then called K-Rations. By 1941, the Subsistence Research and Development Laboratory (SRDL) in Chicago was developing plans to update these meals, issuing the first C-Rations, which only contained three main components, one of which was, the much-detested, Beef Hash. This lack of variety produced, what was then termed, “ration fatigue;” and the military issued a new guideline calling for ten varieties. Because the hash was so universally despised (used for target practice, etc.), it was dropped and replaced— ironically—by Ham and Lima Beans in Juices. However, this meal’s final specifications would not be worked out until 1944; consequently, MoFos didn’t make it to the field before the war ended the following year. As such, they were first consumed in battle during the Korean War, and of course, later in Vietnam.
So here is some food (pardon the pun) for thought: America won every war it fought in the 20th century until MoFos reached the battlefield in 1950. The meal was finally discontinued around 1980. No wars were won in between. Coincidence? Perhaps.
But, before we get too cynical and say that this is typical of government waste in designing and producing a meal that went largely uneaten, another related issue, in all fairness, must be addressed: How would troops open the can?
At the same time Chicago’s SRDL researchers were conjuring up their diabolical MoFo concoction, others in the complex had been tasked with making an efficient, reliable and inexpensive can opener. Within just 30 days during the summer of 1942, that team produced the “Opener, Hand, Can, Folding, Type 1.” It was given the shorter title of “P-38,” because it took 38 punctures (P), each made by quick, 45-degree twist of the wrist, to circumnavigate the lid. Most Marines, however, came to know it affectionately as “a John Wayne.”
This tiny device is still considered one of the most perfect inventions in military history; one that has never been known to break, rust, or need sharpening. Credit for the invention was given to Army Major Thomas Dennehy and John W. Speaker a civilian, Austrian-immigrant metal shop owner. It was Speaker who invented the small, dual protruding lugs that held the blade closed, making the P-38 possible, because being able to close it was a major specification.
Because Speaker had been driven out of his country by the Nazis, and wanted to help defeat Hitler in any way he could, he filed his patent as a royalty-free, nonexclusive contract, which meant anyone could use the design. The opener cost next to nothing to produce, and over 50 million would be made over the ensuing years.
Not only did the P-38 help keep troops sustained from World War II up until the 1980s, it also helped to save lives in a more direct way. Among American military forces in WWII and Korea, many would later claim that, despite it not being built for that purpose, the little device was instrumental in keeping certain mechanisms of their rifles clean and operating throughout those wars. The rifle in question was the M-1 Garand, which General George S. Patton called “the greatest battle implement ever devised.” What an implausibly symbiotic relationship it turned out to be—the P-38 and the M-1, both considered among the most perfect inventions in military history, proving to be even more perfect in tandem.
Stay safe. And for those of you who live on the edge, and now have a hankering to whip up a pot of Ham & MoFos for the family dinner, I urge you to take a step back—and review the Geneva Convention.
Source Note: From Michael Archer’s Blog at https://khesanh-battle.com/f/food-for-thought