Private Igor: The Mess Hall Menace

by listener John H.

At the 4077th, where the wounded came fast,

There stood Private Igor, a cook unsurpassed—

Not in skill, nor in taste, nor in fine cuisine,

But in making chow hall nightmares unforgettably obscene.

His coffee could melt through a five-ton Jeep.

His stew once caused a Marine to weep.

His mashed potatoes could be used to paper a wall.

And his Jell-O once bounced straight out of the mess hall.

For lunch one day, with a gleam in his eye,

Igor prepared pickled beef—no one knew why

it shimmered, it wobbled, it smelled kind of sweet,

But tasted like rubber with undertones of feet.

“Today’s lunch,” he announced with a mischievous grin,

As the doctors all braced for the horrors therein.

Hawkeye took one bite and nearly passed out,

B.J. examined it—“It’s alive!” he did shout.

Even Father Mulcahy prayed for a sign,

that Igor might learn how to properly brine.

Klinger, in gowns, refused to partake—

Said, “I may be crazy, but I’m not eating that steak!”

Yet through all the chaos, one truth remained clear,

Igor’s cooking was everyone’s fear.

For through battle and bloodshed, one challenge stood tall—

Surviving whatever he served in the mess hall!