Once again it’s Thanksgiving and I’ve stuffed myself with enough turkey to make PETA openly sob and enough starch, fat, gravy, and dessert to make my cardiologist openly reproach me and secretly jump for joy. I sat with my family and we offered thanks for the blessings that we have, the food on our table, and the loved ones that surround us. After dinner we all found a couch, chair, or some other suitable spot to sit down, unbutton the top button on our respective pants, and nap, watch football, or both. When it was all said and done we gathered up leftovers, packed up the car and headed home just like just about every other Thanksgiving… with one blaring exception.
Five years ago today I was sitting in a tent on a little FOB in Afghanistan eating my Thanksgiving meal out of paper tray and freezing my butt off because the heater in our tent sucked. That morning I didn’t wake up in a warm cozy bed, but in a cot in a sleeping bag. I went outside after cleaning myself up and since my tent was right next to the chow hall, I was immediately greeted by… wait for it… two live turkeys tied to a stake by some rope. It was the kind of freaky, surreal scene that makes you go back into your tent and come out again… which I did. When I came back out the turkeys were still there so I had to go back in and get a witness to make sure that I wasn’t hallucinating. I wasn’t. We went inside the chow hall and all of the staff officers were serving up chow from O-3 on up. The food was quite possibly the most amazing spread I had ever seen for a Thanksgiving meal and I don’t think I’ve ever seen its equal. I carried my plate back to my hooch to eat it because there wasn’t enough room in the chow hall (small FOB, much smaller chow hall). I sat there on my cot eating my Thanksgiving meal just like the rest of the guys in my tent were doing. My LT, our PSG, my fellow squad leaders and a few others sat there marveling at how good the food was and pining for home… but not really. I say not really because, despite not having one relative within 5,000 miles, we were all among family.
I think back to that meal among my brothers every Thanksgiving since and I’m a little sad because of it. I miss those guys and I know that there will never be anything like that again. It’s a mixed blessing really. The situation sucked, but the guys made it something memorable and good… something that will stick with me well into old age and feeble mindedness.
This Thanksgiving I am thankful for that Thanksgiving. I am also thankful for every man and woman eating their Thanksgiving dinner on their cot in some shithole backwater of a country full of sand and bad guys doing their job day in and day out so that I, my family, my friends, and all of my neighbors can sit in our homes stuffing our faces with the equivalent of three days calories in one sitting and then slip into a tryptophan and beer induced coma afterwards. I am eternally grateful for, and slightly envious of, them all.
Happy Thanksgiving. Make it worth the one they’re giving up.
Tags: Afghanistan, Thanksgiving
Bravo Zulu. Quite possibly the best Thanksgiving post I’ve ever read.
Happy Thanksgiving to one and all.
Outstanding post.
Thank you for your service and sacrifice.
Thank God for all service members everywhere.
AMEN.
Geez friend…a tissue warning perhaps? And incredible post. Thank you for putting your experiences and feelings to words.
You know I’ve never lived on one of those FOBs or lived in one of those cold tents. The closests I ever came was spending Christmas (as a civilian) in Kosovo with Soldiers I was working with their on humanitarian projects. While the Soldiers were living on Camp Bondsteel with heat and good shelter I was living with a local family who had only a wood stove in one room for heat and electricity that was hit and miss. Mostly “miss”. But aside from the challenges the Soldiers and I cooked a full American style Christmas dinner on that family’s wood stove and shared it with them by candle light while wrapped in coats and blankets. It was THE BEST Christmas EVER! The comradary, love and respect were through the roof.
Thank you for bringing back my memories.
All any of us can really say is “Thank you” so much for your service. The only hooch I’ve ever been in called me a MF when we broke up!
Seriously, next time a little “Kleenex Warning” up top would have been nice…..Not much else to say really…..Words here would only be that…..I’m thankful for every one of those men and women who do it, without question or thinking of themselves first. As a lowly E-4 aboard CV-62, operating in support of Operation Southern Watch, I was never close to any FOB, and our food didn’t always suck. I figured then that the only thing I could do was say “thank you” anytime I was given the opportunity…..in airports, around town, etc. So a big heartfelt “THANK YOU” goes out to the fine purveyors of this blog, and all milblogs, who keep us in the know of what’s really going on, and to our men and women who do it every day. May God wrap is loving arms around each one of you and bring you home safely, to those waiting with candles still burning. God Bless!