Thanksgiving
J. D. Pendry
Let us come before his presence with thanksgiving, and make a joyful noise unto him with psalms. - Psalm 95:2
On Thanksgiving Day 1971, I was a 19-year-old Private in basic combat training at Fort Ord, California. My military career did not have a grand beginning. For that matter it never had a grand middle or end either.
In September of 1971, just before my 19th birthday, I stepped down from a Greyhound bus onto sand and ice plant covered, foggy Fort Ord. It wasn’t the greeting folklore and movies primed me to expect. A lanky, solitary Corporal wearing heavily starched cotton fatigues, spit shined Cochran jump boots and a glossy black helmet with large white Corporal stripes painted on the front of it greeted the few of us arriving on the bus from San Francisco Airport. He wasn’t loud and ornery as we expected, but he did walk so fast that most of us had to jog to keep up. Our first stop was a mess hall for our first Army meal of warm soup and cold sandwiches. One week later we got that expected welcome. All hell broke loose for us when the cattle car we were crammed into stopped in front of our basic training company.
Our first two weeks were tough physically and mentally. The Drill Sergeants were all recent Vietnam combat veterans - constant reminders of our likely destination. Unfortunately for me, my second week of training ended with an admission to the surgical ward of Fort Ord’s hospital with a serious case of cellulitis that grew from an infected blister on my toe. The ward had two rows of beds, one on each side of the long bay. Combat medical evacuees from Vietnam occupied most of them. Young men, my age, with missing limbs and other serious combat wounds were my first introduction to a Soldier’s reality. It wasn’t a good place to pitch a military career to a Private still in basic training. Following my hospital stay, the doctors decided my foot needed more time to completely recover, so they sent me home for two more weeks of convalescent leave. I returned to the hospital ward to find many of the residents were the same, but there were some new ones too.
Thanksgiving in the trainee mess hall was quite formal in 1971. We trainees wore our Class A uniforms, mostly adorned only with nametags and US collar brass. The Drill Sergeants wore Class A’s as well. All wore combat decorations. Most wore blue Infantry ropes and Combat Infantryman Badges. The Senior Drill Sergeant, First Sergeant and Company Commander wore the Army Dress Blue Uniform. The Mess Hall was adorned with seasonal decorations. The normal basic training commotion of get in, get fed and get out wasn’t there. The cooks were unusually pleasant and the Drill Sergeants weren’t yelling or kicking anything over. The meal was traditional and quite good. It wasn’t a typical basic training dining experience. Some soldiers, local to the area, had family guests. It was quite a scene for my first Thanksgiving meal in the Army and my first away from home. It definitely stood in stark contrast to the hospital ward filled with combat evacuees.
Over the years, I continued to have Thanksgiving in the mess hall, even after I was married and had my primary family to care for. As a First Sergeant, I’d help serve the meal to the Soldiers and their families. Inevitably, I’d end up with potatoes or something else on my dress blue uniform and predictably my cheeks would turn red as my wife tried to clean me up with a napkin in front of the Soldiers.
The Men and Women that comprise our Armed Forces on this or any Thanksgiving are incredible people. One who chooses voluntarily to place him or herself in the line of danger for the rest of us is an extraordinarily special person.
At home on Thanksgiving, members of my family and I will circle the dinner table and join hands. We’ll offer thanks to God for our many blessings not the least of which is living in the world’s freest and most blessed nation. We will also give heartfelt thanks for those men and women God provided who stand in harm’s way on our behalf, for those who fill the hospital wards and for those, because of their selfless service, who’ve seen their last earthly Thanksgiving.
This Thanksgiving Day, please take some time to give thanks and ask a special blessing for all of our Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, Marines, Coastguardsmen and their families.
Copyright © J.D. Pendry 2007 All Rights Reserved
January 14th, 2008 at 7:45 pm
You were right on about poor people who cannot afford a new car. Here in northern Arkansas there are many driving old (V8) pickup that get little more than 10 MPG and have to drive many miles to a job that pays less than $10/hr.
It would be criminal to what them with a “gas hog” tax.