Hitting the Gut Truck

The good old gut truck. Every soldiers best fucking buddy after a full day of marching through the mud and fighting for freedom in the blood. Being soaked to the bone from a cold rain or colder snow. Reeking of something you would never try to describe to your mother. Upon inhaling the rich aroma of grease, burnt mystery meat, cigarettes and strong coffee with just a hint of gun oil. A soldier's mouth will water and his stomach will grumble as he is about to be fed a hearty meal provided by your taxes. 
The steaming hot beans the kiss the stomach and hit the intestines like a lava rock will soothe and comfort a cold soldier and let him sleep peacefully through the night. 
The piece of mystery meat that when chewed breaks apart into unidentifiable plastic like balls that roll down one's throat and stick to a person's ribs. 
All piping hot and supposedly fresh, never mind that any eggs are green from sitting in the aluminum heat well all day. All washed down with chicken noodle soup where the chicken and noodles are optional and a rare treat if present. Followed by the comforting coffee that may be slightly oily but that is okay and it helps things move along in the morning. 
Finally there is what a soldier calls pogey bait, sweets and candy, those individually wrapped highly processed diabetes causing sugar filled treats that never seem to go out of date. A sweet treat for a hard days work. 
Even now in 2086 the venerable gut trucks are still a part of a soldier's life. Though it may now all be made of soy and vat grown meat along with processed insects the oily taste and burnt amoras are still the same. Nothing will cause a soldier to forgo one of the small pleasures he might have.