Rattle Those Pots

The “Air Force Culinary Institute” (aka Continuous K.P.)

by Ed Beltz

Reading all the news from Jennifer about the great training she and Thom are receiving at the Cordon Bleu made me hearken back to my food preparation training with the U.S. Air Force.

In my day, the lower ranks in the Air Force were also the Kitchen Police. The connotation of the word “Police” is not a good one. In this case, it means to “police the area,” or clean up the kitchen. Believe me, “Kitchen Slave” is a better euphemism.

K.P. training was as intense as it was inane. My fondest memories include:

Having to peel a truckload of potatoes with a regular kitchen knife. When I asked for a sharp knife, I was informed that I might cut a finger and have to miss the next day of K.P.

Cracking hundreds of eggs individually into a glass each morning. Since the supply plane could only make it in every couple of weeks, the eggs were of the aged variety. My job was to throw away the eggs with blood in them or where there was a distinct odor of sulphur.

The wonderful smell from the dishwasher clipper after cleaning a thousand plates loaded with pancake syrup.

My delight in learning that S.O.S. was not simply an international distress signal, but also stood for a white, gruel-like concoction that was served on toast.

My amazement at witnessing one of my buddies who had been cleaning the grease off the vent hood, and accidentally dropped the sponge into that morning’s kettle of oatmeal. The solution? Wring out the sponge in the oatmeal and keep on cleaning.

Toward the latter part of my Air Force career I made the rank of buck sergeant. No relief from K.P. though. However, this time, as the ranking man, I was given the job of cashier. The mess hall at Wright Patterson served several hundred meals a day, yet I barely had change for a twenty-dollar bill in the cash box. Half the men were on separate rations and had to pay for any meal they ate at the facility. At the end of the day, I learned why I only had change for a twenty. Seems that any man in his right mind, having to pay for a meal, would not pay for one obtained in any mess hall.

Well, it’s the modern era and I understand that civilians now do the K.P. work. They may have civil servant status, might be unionized, and could get $25 an hour as a G.S. 7 for wringing out those sponges in the oatmeal.

The “Air Force Culinary Institute” (aka Continuous K.P.)

Good Stuff