[September 9, 2026] Pound cake was my favorite. In the summer of 1983, I attended the Infantry Officer Course at Ft. Benning, GA. As part of this 200-man training company, one Second Lieutenant was known to us all as the connoisseur of C-Rations.
Two hundred “second looies” (or “butter bars” as they are better known) were a sight to see. It must have been like herding cats to keep them all in line and graduate them 17 ½ weeks later. I would not have wanted to command such a group; the challenges would be tremendous and frustrating.
What we were to find out is that second looie Fred Barnes, who hailed from the great state of Arkansas, had an appetite unmatched, and that was saying something because all of us had a serious appetite. His favorite food was C-Rations; most of us only ate them out of desperation. That’s why my favorite item inside it was pound cake. It was sweet, soft, with a nice texture. We ate them only in the field during training exercises.
By then, the U.S. military had removed cigarettes from the C-Rations. I found this a problem; I used them to trade for the more and better-tasting “C-Rats.” Smokers were rare in the Infantry, but those who were were always desperate for a smoke. Fred was also a smoker. He was also a hoarder of food. And he only wanted certain types of C-Rats. That’s why we said he was a “connoisseur.” Maybe he was just picky.
As officers, we bought our own cases of C-Rats (12 cartons per case), and if we wanted to eat in the field, we had to eat all the different types. My favorite was “beans with frankfurter chunks” (Fred liked them), and my least favorite, and universally disliked, was “chopped ham and eggs” (Fred liked them too).
I found out Fred had a secret favorite, and it was not that good. He loved “beef slices and potatoes with gravy.” To me, it was as close to gross as you can get, and I did eat some of them out of starvation.
For Fred, food was an “experience,” and not so much as a comfort item or self-soothing. This was not emotional eating. I know because he told me so. He was very conscientious and self-disciplined but loved low-quality food. I have no idea if he loved other foods, as my experience with his tastes was mostly in the field at Ft. Benning.
Fred was a good ole boy. He talked with a strong Southern accent, which made him seem friendlier than normal. He was a good ole boy and a bit shy. But he had tremendous stamina and needed very little sleep. I would give him my C-Rats in payment for pulling my 2-hour night security shift. We all came out winners from that trade.
NOTE: The C-Ration replacement MREs (Meal, Ready to Eat) started arriving in 1981, but of course, we got the leftovers.
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Please read my books:
Most Army and Marines that I know enjoy them. In fact, those are the same ones who help lead young boys. They are getting the boys hooked on those “c-rations” too.
Good one, Gen. Satterfield, and thank you again for your service to our nation. I know why you wrote this article, and it has to do with the fact that most of us need to see 1) what others have gone through and endured, and has made them better and 2) that bad food (or at least not good food) makes you appreciate what is better, and we do have it better here in America. So, for those reading this, the article is not about c-rations, but about much more. So read into Gen. Satterfield’s comments here and appreciate you are where you are because of people like him. I will also note that tomorrow is the 25th anniversary of 911 (I mentioned this in another post). Be sure to remember that we were attacked by radical ISLAM (which is the majority of them). Don’t let Islam take over or you will lose everything people like Gen. Satterfield fought for.
Loving awful food, sounds like my dog.
👍👍👍👍👍 KILLING IT SIR
We all have stories about C-Rats or MREs, or any meal in the field while either training or in combat. Meals mean so much, that such is overlooked, often. Thank you, Gen. Satterfield for one of your stories. Remember all, we live through stories.
Captain, you are right that field meals stick with us longer than most folks ever guess. A can of C-Rats or a pouch of MREs was never just calories; it was a small pause in the heat, the rain, or the dark. Those meals marked the hours we shared a foxhole, a night shift, or a long convoy. I still remember the taste of that pound cake and the trades we made when someone needed a smoke or a better menu. Thank you for taking the time to read the story and leave a note. Stories keep the memory of those days honest and alive. We live through them, as you said, and they teach the next person what the field really felt like. I am glad this one found a reader who has lived it too. Keep telling yours.