As I recall, this event happened in mid-December 1951 when I was in basic training at Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio. We had just moved into our brand new permanent barracks from tent row, and our squad was ordered to pull Kitchen Patrol (KP) duty.
With my name starting with W, I got stuck on garbage detail. The name sounds somewhat degrading, which put it at the bottom of the detail list. Actually, it was one of the better jobs there – or at least much better than scrubbing pots and pans, which I also had the privilege to “enjoy.”
Shortly after mess was over, most of us on duty had little to nothing to do, so the Mess Sergeant had to find something for idle hands. Having been an airman for several weeks already, I had learned several cardinal military rules - namely, never give your name unless specifically asked for or at the paymaster’s. And NEVER volunteer for anything!
With this in mind, the Mess Sergeant handed me a rag and ordered, “Dust all these chair rails in the chow hall!” Well, he did not ask my name, and I did not volunteer it. I just said, “Yes, Sir!”
I started dusting, and when the sergeant disappeared I dusted to a door and looked in. Seeing a bunch of bench tables stacked, and having to get up so early, they looked mighty inviting for a little snooze. Well, another sergeant caught me napping and not knowing my detail said, “You go with this sergeant and help him!” Little did he know just how great a favor he gave me in return for my little snooze.
This Buck Sergeant, three other KPrs and I climbed into a pickup truck and went to our abandoned mess hall. We were told to count the silverware, trays and water pitchers. Then we were to load the coffee in the truck.
After less than an hour, we had accomplished our menial tasks and the sergeant asked, “Do you want to eat here or go back to the mess hall?” We all hollered “Heck no!” We then pigged out on turkey sandwiches, ice cream and pie. We went back to the barracks, bypassing the mess hall, and finished enjoying our meal by sharing each other’s Christmas care package goodies. We didn’t know then just how lucky we were until learning what had gone on at the mess hall.
Shortly after the mess hall closed and the rest of our squad returned to the barracks, there was a frantic scramble for the latrine. It wasn’t just our squad, but all those who had eaten the stew served that day. There wasn’t a latrine in the area that wasn’t fully occupied with more victims anxiously waiting for an opening.
It wasn’t the stew itself that caused the problem, but a little scrawny jerk named Kettlehut who later fessed up that he thought it would be funny putting some GI soap in the stew. I doubt those affected shared his same sense of humor, but we four on KP duty were spared the unseemly ordeal.
I am sure if the higher-up brass knew of his folly, he would have been court-martialed with a dishonorable discharge!