In 2023, given the variety of bottled water(s) that are sold not only in grocery stores but also in hospital and medical school vending machines, it may be hard for some people to remember a time when water, packaged in plastic bottles, wasn’t a reality. Oh, there was Perrier, San Pellegrino, and a few other brands packaged in glass bottles. But it was only after the 1990-91 Persian Gulf War—the Middle East operations known as Desert Shield and Desert Storm—that water bottled in plastic found its place on supermarket shelves and began to be purchased by consumers worldwide.
Water is essential for life, but back in 1990-91, for over half a million U.S. armed forces and thousands of coalition forces deployed in the deserts of Saudi Arabia, it was at a premium. Bottled water became an essential element in supporting them. Its uses included quenching soldiers’ thirst, tending to their wounds, and cooking.
On Thanksgiving Day 1990, I was a medical company commander, and, per U.S. Army tradition, the officer corps serves the enlisted corps the traditional holiday meal before eating themselves. That day, the dinner was prepared and served in a walk-through mobile kitchen trailer, or MKT. It was 118 degrees F that day, and in the MKT it was well over 125 degrees F. Officer-corps servers rotated in and out of the MKT for 30- to 60-minute shifts in order to avoid heat exhaustion. I cannot remember a hotter day in my life. A few personnel had to be treated with IV hydration.
Over 400 servicemembers of my forward support battalion ate a traditional Thanksgiving meal that day. And one of the unexpected rewards was the delivery of ice-cold alcohol-free beer (alcoholic beverages being banned in Saudi Arabia)—another product that gained a market during this conflict.
The “heat of battle” means different things to different soldiers. For this physician-soldier, at that point in history, that day remains remarkable. Only later did more classic battle injuries, accidents, and heat-related injuries become comparable.
Brian S. Carter
Leawood, Kansas
1 thought on “Quenching Heat”
I’m hot just reading this. Thank you for your service.