by Cpl. Robert L. Cook
Jan. 42~Sept. 45
Now I ain't a real gourmet,
and think I can safely say
That caviar's not my favorite dish.
Truth be told, let me unfold
The kind of grub I like.
Taters, gravy, and hominy grits
And sausages und kraut.
Beans and pork,
And for what its worth,
Most things from the south.
So you can well imagine
My shock and my dismay,
When I first encountered
The rations they displayed.
There was for your selection
Three solitary cans.
One for every meal you ate,
Never mind the brand.
They gave to you a single choice
Among the lowly three,
Of hash or beans or powdered eggs.
Which one will it be?
Most of the guys that I knew
Were mostly just like me.
When it came to eatin',
They weren't too fond "C's".
Later on in that-there war
There came about a change.
A package showed up on the line,
All dipped in wax and so refined.
I think they called it
By the letter "K".
The boys were much elated
Over what we'd found.
There were so many goodies,
They must have weighed a pound.
There inside the Rations "K"
Was cigarettes in number.
Sugar cubes and cheeses,
And other bits of plunder.
Some of them were meant for lunch
And some of them for dinner.
And if that was all you ate,
You'd be gettin' thinner.
So give a cheer and drink a beer,
Be glad that you are over here.
And rations will never
Cross your table.
*
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**About the author: Robert Cook served with Reg. Weapons Co.(2d-2d) from 1942~44, at Guadalcanal & Tarawa, during a 33-month overseas tour.
