Observations of a Soldier      My dad received his “call” from Uncle Sam at the beginning of WWII and he went to the registration office and registered as a conscientious objector. He did not believe in killing. He labored under that decision because he was a patriot. After much thinking he decided that he would re-register and trust his newly found God for the outcome. He was immediately drafted into the U.S. Army. In basic training he excelled, he went to the level of Sharpshooter in firearms. He excelled in the physical trials of basic training even though he was only 5’6”. Then low and behold General Douglas MacArthur had a position to be filled as a secretary and dad was picked and he served the next 2 years as General Macarthur's assistant. How proud I was to tell everyone who my dad was! He had many experiences to tell us when he got out. The following is one I hadn’t heard before… I pass it on…       "Chow" An unidentified voice invaded the semi-conscious serenity of the First Battalion: semi-conscious because it’s 600 drill-weary soldiers lay flat on their backs upon their bunks after a mornings fatiguing, intensive training; and serene because they were doing just that-lying flat on their backs.       The “invasion” was successful, however, for these soldiers well new what this call to arms, “chow,” meant.       It was interesting to compare the two directions the men went as they passed out of the barracks- not to mention those who simply “passed out”, preferring an hour of sleep to “the survival of the fittest” campaign about to be waged for a not so desirable prize.       A few turned eastward toward the company street, “PX” bound, there to feed upon candy bars, potato chips ice cream and Coca Cola, preferring this even to warm army food. However, the majority turned west upon leaving the barracks, and steadily the chow-line formed at the mess hall door. suspense that THIS day suspense that THIS day or something like that--- but there was continual might be different- you know……… pork chops continual preparedness inevitable: blue eggs. The men never did understand why those or something like that---but there was why those powdered eggs, when continual preparedness for the powdered eggs, when hydrated and inevitable: blue eggs. The men never did understand bluish tinge. That why those tinge. That was an incidental matter however, for the powdered eggs, when hydrated and cooked, assumed such a sickly bluish either they eat the eggs or the cockroaches would, and the tinge. That was an incidental matter however, for the cockroaches would, and the soldiers concluded that their own lives were consequential issue was that their own lives were still of more value to society than the cockroaches. either they eat the eggs or the still of more value to society than the cockroaches. cockroaches would, and the soldiers concluded that their own lives were still of more value to society than the cockroaches.       The mess-hall itself was a curio-shop of “de-stratified” human society. Here---a man’s social status not withstanding—a tin fork was a tin fork, a tray was a tray, and a mug was a mug. Variability was to be found only in the size of the napkins: some men simply had longer fatigue sleeves than others. The boisterous, the diffident, the executive, the office boy, the family man, the bachelor, the industrious, the roustabout, the white-collar salesman, the laborer—there they were at the army mess learning the hard way that “Be it ever so ANYTHING, there’s no place like home.” -------------------My dad was 31 years old when he wrote this but he was 26 years old when he experienced it------------David