Traveling On 4Hi
Sustenance for the Jeepin’ Soul
Rations. It’s a strange word, its meaning somehow indistinct, obscured in the mist of time. Are rations good, or are they something else? How you interpret the word may have more to do with your age than your command of the language.
If you’re of the Silent Generation (born between 1925 and 1942), rations mean war and deprivation. Sustenance in a time of need. And, when you’re lucky, the provision of a treat you no longer take for granted. Sugar, for instance. If you’re a Baby Boomer (born between 1946 and 1964), you may have listened to your dad or uncles speak of WWII until it no longer can escape its romantic historical footing, placed squarely alongside the Rat Pack, with ice cubes tinkling merrily in glasses of scotch and slushy renditions of “I’ll Be Home For Christmas.” To you, rations might be reminiscent of someone else’s memory of hard times, wrapped in a wistful glow of the Lone Ranger or Jenny dolls. Gen Xers (born anywhere from 1961 to 1983, no one can agree) are a different breed altogether. Raised on a baffling blend of The Brady Bunch and Boy George, this generation is shockingly honest and fiercely independent. To them, “rations,” in the context of a brand, may be nothing at all, just some marketing sleight of hand. And it is. But it’s so much more.
Name That Aspiration!
Have you ever tried to come up with a name for a magazine? Or any product? Try it and see how stupid your first 10 ideas are. OK, try harder. Are your friends laughing? All right, take a walk. Clear your mind. Maybe something will inspire you. Then again, maybe not. What does this have to do with “rations”? A lot, because it’s all about the product—and the philosophy. The connection is simple, if you’ll follow along.
Field rations were packed in containers resistant to moisture, heat, cold and gas, and offered the soldier previously prepared food. Every item in the ration was included “for a scientific reason.”
We love Jeeps. We love what they do, where they take us. We love the personality they embody, because it reflects our own. Spunky. Independent. Reliable. We love the people they draw (well, most of them). And, we live very busy lives, full of responsibilities to the boss, the spouse, the kids, the home, the yard. That’s a lot of pressure, and it makes the time we have with our Jeeps both a necessity and a treat. Like rations, our Jeeps sustain us. Like rations, we have only a fixed amount of time we can spend with our Jeeps. Like rations, our Jeep® time is something we allocate to ourselves so we can keep our sanity in a demanding world. Just as the soldier in the field would die without his rations, we wouldn’t last long without our Jeeps.
The “J” in J Rations is, obviously enough, a stand-in for “Jeep.” We’ve been through this before, when we left the “ee” to DaimlerChrysler to name Jp Magazine in 1995. As you may know, DC rabidly guards its trademark rights. They’re entitled, and their legal department will be the first to tell you so. Readers cheered our effort then, and we hope you’ll do so again, this time without the “e’s” or the “p.” What’s more, as we considered the Jeep’s military beginnings and our persistent need for this hardy, go-anywhere vehicle, we suddenly realized we had the ideal metaphor to brand our multimedia journal.
Seen here in development, K rations were highly concentrated and used only in times of emergency and continuous combat when regular messing facilities were unavailable. Packed in three boxes for three meals, K rations weighed only 32.86 ounces and contained 3,726 calories. The packaging could resist temperatures up to 135º F. or down to 20 below zero.
A Soldier’s Rations
The earliest U.S. military rations appear during the Revolutionary War. They included beef, peas, rice, flour, milk, spruce beer, soap and a candle, providing more calories and twice as much protein as present dietary requirements, as well as the opportunity to not smell bad or curse the darkness. From then until the early 20th century, rations changed little, enhanced only with the addition of dried beans, potatoes, pepper and yeast. By World War I, ration components numbered 17 but were still deficient in vitamin A.
As the 1920s gave way to the ’30s, the U.S. Army had four types of rations: the garrison ration, the travel ration, the reserve ration and the field ration. With its fresh food products, field ration A closely resembled garrison rations. Field ration B consisted of canned and dehydrated foods for when refrigeration was unavailable. Field ration D was simply three 4-ounce chocolate bars that provided a quick 600 calories for the most dire of circumstances. In 1938, the combat ration was morphed into field ration C: three cans containing meat and vegetables, along with three cans of crackers, sugar and coffee.
The 5-in-1 ration was “designed so that five servicemen starting on a mission can throw the ration in the back of a jeep and proceed with assurance that they will have three square meals.” The large cans supplemented the smaller ones with coffee, instant rice, tea, grape and lemon juice powder, hard candy, cocoa with sugar and biscuit squares.
By WWII, the military needed rations that could keep up with an army on the move, and neither the C nor D ration filled the bill. Officially adopted in 1942, field ration K was developed for mobile units. The letter K was chosen simply because it was phonetically different from C and D. The 10-in-1 ration was B rations packaged in units of 10. The 5-in-1 was designed for small detachments able to prepare hot meals with basic cooking equipment. Other special rations included the Filipino ration, the jungle ration, the mountain ration and the flight ration. There was even the X ration, the lifeboat ration and the assault lunch. For real—I’m not making this up.
Today we have the MRE, the T ration, the
go-to-war ration and the cold weather ration. Then there are the restricted rations: RLW-30, LRP and GP-I for special missions. It seems odd that amid this vast storehouse of sustenance cooked up by the military, there have never been J rations.
Rations For the Jeep Rank and File
As you can see, ration planning is no simple matter. There’s a lot to be considered: caloric content, nutritive value, the availability of refrigeration and cooking facilities, the weight of the package and the number of soldiers it is to sustain. Ideally, rations are savory, satisfying and adequate, because the individual becomes a better soldier if he gets all of what he needs and at least some of what he wants. As we considered the effort that goes into developing military rations, we realized how many of the same criteria apply to J Rations:
• Is its nutrient content adequate (enough editorial)?
• Will it be appetizing (quality, relevant content)?
• Is there enough variety (broad mix of topics)?
• What will be its effect on health (will readers use the editorial)?
• Can it be packaged sturdily and compactly (will USPS break it)?
• Is it of minimum weight and bulk (is shipping affordable)?
• Can it be transported (the “library” factor)?
• Is it stable under a broad range of climatic conditions (will the Big Dogs eat our lunch)?
Lastly, and most important:
• Is it acceptable to the troops (will readers like it)?
Napoleon said that an army travels on its stomach. He was right—the ability to fight is directly related to what soldiers eat, which makes quality provisions vital to victory. We feel the same about our Jeep lifestyle. So we’ve issued our own victuals. Because when it comes to satisfying the fervent hunger for all things Jeep, there’s no substitute for the 3-in-1 experience we call J Rations. —Lisa Godfrey