Necessity is the Mother of Invention
Archer describes the C-ration diet of the Marines at Khe Sanh Combat Base during the Siege.
Date: May 7, 2020
My recent blog piece about Ham and Lima Beans in Juices, aka Ham & MoFo’s, [Food for Thought] generated a lot of feedback (if you’ll pardon the culinary pun). It seems almost everyone has an opinion—and a strong one—about that particular C-Ration meal.
One former Khe Sanh company commander responded with an amusing tale of karmic comeuppance, saying that early on in the siege everyone just picked the C-ration meals they wanted and “it all seemed to work out well.” A new battalion commander, however, was put off by this cavalier approach, and began having everyone choose a ration according to rank. Because the meals were packed in a certain sequence, “which all of us old timers had memorized, we still managed to get what we wanted and were happy—except the colonel. After several days of finding ‘Ham and Mothers’ the only meal left, the light bulb went on and we went back to the old system. Ah, the joys of being a veteran.”
Another responder is a well-known and colorful Nevada figure, and Marine Vietnam-War veteran, who distressfully wrote back to me: “You had a perfectly good column going…without the photos!” Later adding that my “horsesh*t graphics” brought back such painful memories, he thought he might need counseling.
Such playful mock hysteria continued, with another commenting that, because of Ham & MoFos, “we not only lost our appetites, but our innocence—and trust in the hallowed institutions of our youth. After all, what kind of a Higher Being could allow something like that to happen?!”
Generally, responses fell into one of three groups. Many, to my surprise, absolutely relished that particular dish. Most were from southern states where they grew up on ham and butter beans, which are scientifically the same as limas, the legume Phaseolus lunatus (“lunatus” denoting their crescent shape). However, in culinary use, butter beans and lima beans are distinct, the former being larger and pale yellow, while the former smaller and pale green. The odd paleness of these yellows and greens are reminiscent of questions a medical practitioner might ask about phlegm to determine the nature of a bronchial problem— but, of course, that’s just my opinion.
The second group, and seeming majority, were those who continue to despise the vile concoction.
But a significant third group all pointed out the same thing (including my lost friend Tom Mahoney’s platoon commander), that the “distinct flavor” of Ham & MoFos could be completely mitigated by the use of Tabasco sauce, making them palatable… perhaps like some kind of liquid Kryptonite. Intrigued, I did a little research to find out how Tabasco could make such a miracle possible.
Tabasco sauce was first produced by Maunsel White, who had immigrated from Tipperary, Ireland in the early 19th century. Later, as a wealthy Louisiana plantation owner, a sea-captain friend brought him a handful of pepper seeds from the coastal state of Tabasco in southern Mexico. Maunsel began cultivating these peppers and found they had an unusually high oil content, making them difficult to dry in the humidity of Louisiana; but with a some vinegar added, made an excellent pepper sauce.
Prior to his death in 1862, White gave some pepper pods, along with the recipe, to his friend Edmund McIlhenny. Born the Maryland, McIlhenny moved to New Orleans in 1840 and became a successful banker. After Union forces captured the city during the Civil War in 1862, Edmund, realizing all that Confederate money in his bank had just become valueless; and with White’s sauce recipe in hand, moved to Avery Island and began cultivating the peppers and preparing the sauce. While White had never sold his sauce, banker McIlhenny saw a good business opportunity. The distinctive shape of the container comes from McIlhenny’s initial procurement of unused cologne bottles from a struggling New Orleans glass blower. In 1870, he patented the pepper sauce; which, because of my love of incongruity, I need to point out here that, despite all the exotic Cajun, Caribbean and French culinary influences in New Orleans at the time, this most famous Louisiana sauce came about because of two old Irish guys swapping recipes.
On his death in 1890, Edmund McIlhenny was succeeded by his eldest son, John, who expanded and modernized the business, but resigned to join Theodore Roosevelt’s Rough Riders in 1898. His brother, Edward Avery McIlhenny, assumed control of the company.
So, here’s where this story turns back and heads for the barn.
Edward’s son, Walter S. McIlhenny, joined the Virginia National Guard in 1931 and transferred to the Marine Corps in 1935. He would be in on the Marine Corps’ first big fight to push-back after Pearl Harbor, the invasion of the Japanese-held island of Guadalcanal in August 1942. Then-Lieutenant McIlhenny, who had been in the military long enough to know how bland the food could be in the field, brought cases of his family’s Tabasco sauce when he came ashore on Guadalcanal, distributing it to his Marines, thus greatly improving morale. The fighting on Guadalcanal was furious and bloody, and Walter would become recipient of the Navy Cross (the Marine Corps’ highest decoration, after the Medal of Honor), the Silver Star and two Purple Hearts. He would retire as a brigadier general in the Marine Corps Reserve, upon taking over the family business after his father, Edward, died in 1949.
With the advent of the Vietnam War, Walter McIlhenny, remembering how bad the food was during his time at war, developed a ration-sized, two-ounce, vial of Tabasco, wrapped in special, corrugated-cardboard camouflage packaging, to be sold for just a dollar, perfectly sized for loved ones to send to their men at war. In 1966, McIlhenny produced a companion guide called “The Charlie Ration Cookbook.” https://archive.org/details/TheCharlieRationCookbook/mode/2up
do not recall seeing this booklet at the time, but it was recently brought to my attention by a reader who I’ve come to know here in Reno, former U.S. Army Quartermaster Major James Keeney. Coincidently, Jim, along with fellow Quartermaster Major Charlie Wiliford, both attached to the Army’s 1st Logistical Command at Long Binh in 1968, were primarily responsible for preparing the air drops of vital supplies to us during the siege. Well done, Jim.
I will now never be able to pass down the condiments aisle of a grocery store again, without breaking stride by the Tabasco bottles and respectfully whispering the command to stand down: “As you were.”
And, while we’re advancing the idea of “necessity being the mother of invention,” May 5 was the 88th birthday of LtCol David L. Althoff, USMC (Ret.). The legendary Major Althoff, and his fellow CH-46 helicopter pilots of HMM-262, were the sole lifeline to the hill outposts (which were cut off by land), resulting in heavy losses of aircraft and crews. Althoff was instrumental in devising and carrying out the Super Gaggle strategy to resupply these hill outposts, via perfectly orchestrated combinations of smokescreens and concerted artillery and attack-fighter aircraft on suspected enemy antiaircraft and mortar positions. This allowed these brave pilots to get into the LZ, drop off supplies and reinforcements, and then lift out wounded and dead—all in a matter of minutes; thus greatly reducing their losses. Amazing people! Semper Fi.
Source Note: this article was published in Michael’s Blog at https://khesanh-battle.com/f/necessity-is-the-mother-invention