#warchef

Dirt rained onto the ground from the enemy artillery attack.

“Hold your rainskin up or be cursed!” Hissed Ena as she furiously stirred a pot with one hand and tossed the contents of a pan with another. “If any dirt finds its way into this food Bikram, I swear by the endless void that I will get the commander to put you on quarter rations!” The soldier’s eyes widened and he spread his arms further out, trying to insure the cleanliness of the meal. The sounds of rifles being fired from the safety of the trench echoed through in the night, the darkness punctuated by exploding shells, the lanterns of trench runners racing past, and the crackling of the wood beneath the travelling stove. Eventually the meal was falling into place.

“Here! Here! Here!” She said, wilding gesturing towards a table covered with a half complete tent. They both raced, Ena with pot and pan in hand, Bikram with rainskin, towards the safety of the table. The pot found its way onto the cold ground, a sizzle and faint whiff of steam trailing off. Ena circled the table and used the spoon to evenly distribute the sauteed mixture of tinned meat, sadroot, stinkroot, firebulb paste, chilltrees, ground gunpowder, salt, and greenbulbs. The chef rushed back to the pot, grabbed the handle and rushed back. Her hands were a blur as she ladled out a thick mix of halfbeans, crushed grain, sweet yellow, eater fat, salt, and diced green root.

Ena started snapping to get Bikram’s attention. As soon as they locked eyes she put a fist in front of her hand, spread it out to an open palm, then with the same hand thrusted her middle and forefinger towards the trenches. The soldier nodded and raced towards the the sounds of battle. Ena reached into a satchel and quickly began pulling beetles out of it, twisting their heads off, and placing them in a pile at the end of the table. Soon a line of weary, tired, looking men walked towards the table. They grabbed one of the beetles and shuffled towards one of the plates. When all settings were taken they held the bugs up in the air and looked up towards the chef. With a nod the men crushed the beetles above their meals, a clear liquid dropping atop their meals. No one spoke as they all shoveled the two piles into their mouths and chewed. Some alternated, others ate their least favorite first, and one his favorite first. Eventually Ena held her hands out and the soldiers, their mouths still chewing, their mouths and stomachs warm from spice and heat nodded. The lack of words and sighs borne of full stomachs signalled their approval.

Bikram’s stomach growled and a look of sadness crossed his face. He glanced at the chef who was already looking at him. “Sir?” He asked.

“I need another bag of halfbeans for second meal. We killed the last bag,” she replied. Before he could respond she clapped him hard on the back. “Double time Bikram, they need to be in water in minutes.”     “Uh…” said the soldier slowly pointing at a half eaten plate one of the soldiers had left.