The Mess Hall

"The apple tasted pretty good," I tell the soldier after my first luncheon at the mess hall. "The water tasted great," I add. 

The technical term for the mess hall is the MOB (mobilization) cafe because it is a temporary place for soldiers passing through on their deployment.  Breakfast, lunch and dinner is served in a large tent structure near the barracks. On windy days dining feels rather dangerous. Light fixtures on the ceiling shake and the sides of the tent ripple like a ship sail's in a storm. On extremely blustery days the doors blow open and knock styrofoam cups and plastic spoons into the air.

Fox news can be viewed on two flat screen TVs, but most soldiers sit with their unit and chit chat during meals. The food and atmosphere reminds me of the cafeteria at my grade school, except the staff is a much friendlier crew. They always smile as they scoop spoonfuls of rice or meat, which some soldiers refer to as slop.

I am the only civilian here. As I walk by the tables soldiers stop chewing and stare at me with quizzical expressions. Usually I wear jeans, a  t-shirt and my brown vest. Most of the units know I am a journalist, but some have no idea why I am allowed civilians clothes. One soldiers asked me if I was fresh out of boot camp because he thought I didn't know the rules. 

So perhaps people think I just don't know any better. One soldier suggested that I should wear a shirt that says Press. I told him, I don't think so. I don't want a bunch of people coming up to me and pressing my chest with their hands and saying, "What? It says press."