Meal Time

Meals here are in some small part the highlight of any given day. This phenomenon is not due to the quality of food or décor of the DFAC. It has more to do with the fact that it’s three times in a typical work day when the Captain Mafia can get together and vent. Since most of us O-3s work in cells all over the base, we don’t get to see much of one another during the normal working day. With the exception of an occasional email or phone call, there’s just not enough time to interact with fellow captains. I think it’s human nature to relate to people of your own age and rank here. If it wasn’t for meal-time gatherings, we would toil away at our jobs in the company of field grade officers and slowly, but surely, lose our minds. Therefore we congregate over our plastic trays, filled with whatever slop the chow hall is serving, and discuss important topics such as how many days until someone goes on leave or what we are going to do on our pass.

The layout of the mess hall can be a little non-conducive to proper gossip and bullcrap sessions. The tables are only made to seat 6, its always crowded and the TVs are always blaring some insignificant sport that interferes with conversation. Seriously, do people actually watch cricket and lacrosse on satellite television? So, we try to arrive at odd meal times to avoid the crowds, we attempt to secure multiple tables that are close by, and we have the “no low talking” rule to avoid missing any juicy bit of info someone might have heard. Rumors run rampant at the captain meals, and since all of us are in different offices, there’s really no way to confirm anything. One day it’s hype over which field grade is getting fired from their position and the next day it’s which soldier got moved into a trailer bigger than Brendan and Kevin’s (that’s usually every soldier). Most of the time the conversation hinges on how much we hate this place and when we think we’ll be leaving here. The rumors are fairly outrageous (“I heard they are extending us all until the end of 2008!”) to the almost plausible (“The last unit only spent 11 months boots on ground, so we should be the same.”). We all know that it doesn’t help to believe in crazy tales based off of half truths, but it’s just a way to entertain ourselves and share in the misery. For a bunch of people recalled to work 15+ hour days away from our family and friends for a year in the middle of nowhere, it’s the only way we stay sane.

Tom W. (Tommy), my former room mate, is the bitter guy who ensures that we all know that it sucks here. Colleen (Col) only comes part time due to her mission requirements, but shares in Tommy’s bitterness. Tom N. is only slightly less bitter than Tom W. but has a sense of humor about it all that festers under a semi-controlled roid educed rage. Kevin (Rhino) is the verifier of all information and the first to tell you that the there is something interesting about this or that. Brendan is the quiet guy in the corner who is a closet dessert junkie (he only takes dessert back to his desk when no one is looking). Stacey is an aide to the general and her travels equip her with many a funny story involving people of much higher rank. Chris, my compadre since Benning, tries to show how much he doesn’t care by doing daring stunts like sleeping at work or taking a day off. Joanna (JoHa) plays the role of big sister to us all, not because she is older than us, but most of our jobs are in her hands since she works in the personnel section. Ryan, my current room mate, is not a regular at the table, but he tries to stop by and tell us how huge he’s getting from working out. There are others that I didn’t mention (Scottie Mack, Claudia, Shane the 1LT, Jen the MP LNO and sometimes Tad), not because they are any less important, but they aren’t the regular crew. They can’t be considered part of the mafia if they don’t frequently contribute to the combined misery.

In all seriousness, they are a good group of officers who are working hard to get the job done (even if they don’t admit it). We are the lowest ranking folks in a world of brass and we do the work long after the field grades go home to their private one room trailers at night. We do some silly things and rip on each other enough to draw attention from those around us, but that’s how we look out for one another. We stick together, pick each other up when we are down, and ensure that we know that we will all get through this, one way or another.

I’ve continually tried to get a picture of this motley crew but am foiled by the “no cameras in the mess hall” rule that is enforced by roving guards. I guess they don’t want us to leak out any DFAC culinary secrets to the bad guys. Most of us are trying to take our 4 day pass together to spend some time outside of the war zone to watch some football and shop. Okay, maybe I should clarify. The guys are going to watch football together and the women are going to shop. Sounds stereotypical, but so does me attempting to take pictures of everybody.