It  seems  memories have  come  to  me  recently  by others  bearing  gifts.  A Seabee   friend  from   a construction  battalion   that  built   Futema  MCAF brought  this  memory  prior  to a dinner  party.  He  showed  up with a  very musty  smelling Cruise Book from  his tour  in Okinawa and  an old  military mess hall food tray. It was almost like the  flight gloves that my wife  recently found. Once in my hands, it fit and felt as natural as  if I had been handed an M-1.  I flipped it  around a few times for balance and  it had the right texture and weight.  I was now ready to eat, after of course  I had a couple glasses  of wine. Some things do change with time.

This particular  tray looked as if  my friend has spend a  little time  scrubbing off  45  years of  inactivity and  would  have made a Mess Sgt. proud.  It  was designed  for stout, could  be used anywhere in the world, and allowed you to have regular, hot cooked food.  It was a  much better choice than what  came in the  individually packed cardboard box with  the label C-Rations.  It was a good friend that you hoped to see at least 3 times a day.

This  11 5/8 by 15 ½  inch  carrier of  nourishment was made  from a stamped sheet of .030 stainless steel with an  1/8 inch rolled and  crimped edge making it smooth for spinning in your one hand as you deftly roamed  the line with a serving spoon in the other.  It was divided into 6 individual compartments, ½ inch  deep, designed  to retard  the commingling of  the specific textures  and favors  scooped  up  in  making a meal.  This was  important as  many of  the military  selections had a tenancy  to flow.  In the center of  one side was  the largest  compartment, considered  my  most  as  the  “main  meal” area.  One wanted to spin  the tray around  when traversing a  line with servers  to make sure  this compartment was closest to  the server.  Keeping this compartment closest to you made it a target for a server to sling the item toward it without regard for accuracy. Dedication of scoring bull’s eyes was not a  priority with most servers.  The compartments on both sides of  the “main meal” were  the smallest  and had an  almost triangular shape.  They  were  usually  good  for holding  breaded  products  and  stabilizing  a carton of  milk.  Opposite  the “main meal” side of the tray  were 3 separate compartments  that were pretty equal in size, generally reserved for vegetables and a desert if you were lucky. MCAF  Santa Ana had  one of  the top 10 pastry chefs  in the  USMC, so  we always reserved a couple of these compartments for his daily offerings.

Some  finer points of this  fine military tool were observed when turned over. Besides the rolled edge to protect the hands, there was a ¼ inch  diameter by 1/8-inch high rivet at each corner.  This kept the  trays from sticking together when  stacked  and  made  it  easier to pick  them  off the stack on  your  way through the line. In one of the corners was a drilled hole to be used in remote field operations.  When finished eating  at one of  these sites, you  would pro- gress  down  a line  of  garbage pails  in  which  you  would  throw  or  scrape remains of your meal.  This would be followed by a number of G.I. cans  sit- ting on top of  portable heaters  that would keep the  water  in  them  boiling. You would take a stiff wire about  a foot long with an open loop on each end and thread your tray, cup, and silverware over one end. Holding this offering with the loop on the other end,  you would progress down the row vigorously dunking  the collection  in each boiling can.  As you  progressed, the  boiling water looked  less like a strange soup and your  tray got cleaner.  In some lo- cations,  this was more important to your  future health as the dinning  hard- ware was assigned to you and your responsibility to keep clean and store for the next meal.  A little grease left on  a tray could keep you in  the head on a stool  for days.  Larger facilities would  take  these semi-clean trays and  run through a steam  cleaner for  complete cleaning.  Marines at  these  facilities, that  did  not want to risk  the scalding  preliminary  process,  would  simple dump all the hardware in the first garbage cans  when the mess sergeant was not looking. 

While  at  Camp Matthews  rifle range  I discovered  what happened to  these hapless tools. Our platoon had to serve a week of mess duty prior to our time at the range and my assignment was the garbage shed. The garbage cans were stored  here  for pick up  by a pig  farmer  and  large containers and  cooking vessels  were washed  using  brushes and  steam  hoses.  In a  warm  Southern California, adding steam and old garbage to the atmosphere of a small enclo- sure  did not generate a  prime location  to visit or hang out.  It was  the  one place during my total time in Boot Camp that I did not see my  Drill Instruc- tor.  After  a day of so  our noses  had no choice  but to accept  its fate.  This atmosphere  and  lack of  the visitors  that controlled  us  made it the  perfect place to hide contraband. It became a primary hold area for treats like  fruit, cookies, cakes, and  pies  on  the way to  our  barracks.  The large  containers that held trays of  prepared food would each  day have to be  steamed out  at the garbage room.  Allies in the mess hall would  leave a  pie or cake in  these units and push them by the mess sergeant on their way to the garbage  room. No one ever checked anything going to the garbage room. 

One day a  6 by 6  pulled up with some sorry  looking  Marines  riding in  the cab.  Even our  tested and accepting noses  picked  up  the special  odor  that surrounded this vehicle.  The sorry looking  work detail  lowered  the tailgate and started throwing out burlap bags that  had a metallic sound when hitting the  deck.  Untying the  bags and upending  them disclosed  where the  errant mess hall  hardware had been. We learned a  crew of recruits had  to visit  the pigs eating  area every few months to rake up all the hardware  that had been thrown into the garbage pails. The dinning area at  the pig farm was a combi- nation of a mess hall, barracks, and head for all  the pigs.  What dumped out of the bags was a combination of all of those areas and  it was now the job of the garbage  room crew to clean up this mess.  It was one of the few times the mess sergeant got personally involved in the inspection of items coming from our facility to  his cooking area, but  only  when  we  finished.  There  was  so much of a barnyard coating on this mess it  was stuck together in a  tangle of stainless steel. When hit with the steam hose the room immediately immersed all of us  in a wet heavy  blanket of smell  that took your breath away.  There was no way of getting away from it as one of us had to man the hose and the other  with a rake  to coax the  pig poop from  the surface of our  next  meal. Even this smell  after about the  10th  bag was  added to  our  nose-hardened inventory.  We figured  that this was part of the training and  we were  better Marines for it, although the meals  that followed for  the garbage  room crew were always a little suspect following that job.