Get over it already.

"Alright boys! Lunch is ready!" Loud clangs reverberated along the voice of an old man. He wore an apron over his brownish-green uniform and held a frying pan over his head, striking it repeatedly with a ladle.

"Took you long enough." One of the soldiers said.

"Damn I'm hungry!" Another exclaimed. 

One after the other, all twelve gathered and took a tray from the nearby stack before forming a line in front of a long table. Two large pots were placed on top, steam rising from each. Beside them was a basket filled with bread and an ice box with a bunch of cans in it.

"Again with the bean soup?"

"You got a problem with my beans?" The old man's gaze sharpened and he pointed the ladle in his hand at the first in line.

"We eat it three times a week. Are we not allowed to complain?" The second in line peeked his head and grumbled.

"Silence! Be thankful or you can chew on those dry-ass rations for the next two days!!!"