SGT Robert Pryor, U.S. Army (1967-1969)

The best chow I had in the Army was also the best of my entire life. It was at Travis AFB, California, in August 1969. I was medevacked back to the States from Viet Nam via USAF C-141. At Travis, a young lady was assigned to be my guardian angel. I have no recollection of her physical characteristics, rank, or job title. I remember she was unbelievably beautiful on the inside. She met me while I was still on the aircraft, keeping pace as my stretcher was moved to an awaiting ambulance. She stayed at my side for the next 72 hours. Everything we needed was requested over the phone and brought to our room.

After they transferred me to my hospital bed, she asked if I wanted breakfast. I did, so she asked what I wanted. I said I’d have whatever she was having. She indicated that wasn’t how it worked. I could have anything I could name. She added, “How does steak and eggs sound?”

“It sounds like I should have joined the Air Force,” I responded. She smiled and ordered two meals of steaks and eggs with everything. Her smile gave me the first joy I had known since my camp got overran in June.

My joy faded to sorrow when they brought our food. She said she couldn’t touch her breakfast until I was done. My right arm and both legs were paralyzed. Her being required to feed me first ruined my appetite. I refused to eat unless she ate with me. She reluctantly agreed, taking a bite of her breakfast and then giving me a bite of mine, alternating until we finished. The best “chow hall” was that bed at Travis AFB with the most beautiful woman in the world sitting on it, feeding me as she ate. The steak and eggs we ate were the best meal of my life. Emotions may have played a part.

In Special Forces, we were given no rations while in-country. On patrols, our chow hall was an all-you-can-eat jungle buffet teeming with life. We never went hungry. Being known for living off the land led to a nickname for Special Forces soldiers: ‘snake-eaters.’ I went along with the misnomer because it made us sound tough and struck fear in the hearts of potential enemies. When people fear you, they make stupid mistakes.

I considered everything in the jungle Communist. We certainly had much more to eat than Communist snakes or Communist lizards. We ate whatever we could find, including rations we reallocated from recently deceased enemy combatants. They no longer needed them.

I once took a Communist chicken prisoner. Because Communist creatures, such as lizards, chickens, and snakes, were not protected by the Geneva Convention regarding the treatment of prisoners of war, my boys and I ate that prisoner for dinner. While that chicken was the worst meal of my Army career, it wasn’t too bad. It tasted like snake.

The pictures are from my physical therapy when I was learning to do things left-handed and use my right hand a little following arm surgery.

Read the Military Memories of our Runner-Ups.