SandRat, I know you remember the days when spoons really, really cooked- every company had it's own mess, and you could stumble on into one after the NCO club closed, and talk the mess daddy out of a sandwich...
Or if the mess daddy knew you and liked you, when you came on KP in the weeeeeeeee-hours of the morning he'd have the 1st cook fix you real eggs to order and maybe, just maybe pull out a couple of steaks he'd been saving to fry up with them instead of green baloney.