Thanksgiving Story

[Note: Many great "Starter Sentences" for November were shared by the group. Since many of us in the group have military connections, whether by active duty ourselves, our spouses and/or our children, this story by Pat Clark is published here to honor our military veterans and families.  May it remind all of us that there are thousands of American military men and women who are serving around the world away from their homes and loved ones, not only on Thanksgiving, but every day of the year. RGK]

Pat Clark

The turkey was delicious but something tasted funny about the gravy.  Then all of a sudden our surreal warzone, Thanksgiving dinner was interrupted by the distinctive, slow cycling rat-tat-tat of an AK-47 assault rifle followed by the louder, faster return fire of the M-16 from our sentry posted on the Southeast perimeter.   Instinctively, and before I could give the order, protective gear was donned and the soldiers of my unit were rushing to their pre-designated defensive positions behind the concrete fortified outer walls of our forward deployed compound.  We were the forward unit in the “surge” operation on the border between Afghanistan and Pakistan.  This type of harrasment tactics from the Taliban had become routine. 

“There was no way we were going to be left alone on a uniquely American holiday to enjoy this meal and some needed down time.” I thought, as I climbed the dark, narrow and very worn sandstone steps to my position on the second level of the compound.

As commander of this joint U.S. and Afghan unit, I always tried to find the best location possible to observe and direct operations.  Getting high to look down on the skirmish was always advantageous.

 As I was already taking fire, “Second deck is the best I’m going to get.” I said to myself.  “Shit, this is heavier than usual.  What are they thinking?”

“That was good turkey!” 

“Shit, what am I thinking?”

“You gotta hand it to Gen. Osbourne and the boys back at Bagram.” I thought as I crouched behind my cover wall, “While, most of them will be enjoying a nice hot turkey dinner in an air conditioned mess hall and even get a chance to watch the Lions-Packers game on Armed Forces TV, at least they made sure we have turkey.” 

 Through my earpod Cpl martin wisecracked “Lieutenant, I spilled my dinner on the floor when the excitement started.  You think they’ll fly up a replacement?”

 “Let’s keep focused guys.”  I spoke into my shoulder mike.  “These guys are serious.” 

 Then, trying to ease a little of the tension, I said, “If you’re still hungry after this, you can have the rest of mine, I only spilled the beans.”

A few days earlier the general and his staff thought it would be a good idea to flash-freeze and pre-package some turkey dinners and have them delivered to the forward units on Thanksgiving morning.  Pop them in the microwave for a few minutes and our guys would get some good old American comfort food on turkey day.  Along with our mail, the meals were delivered this morning via Blackhawk chopper with two Apache gunships flying air cover.

 “It was a nice gesture.” I thought. “But, I’m not sure they get it back at command.  This is a hellhole.  Hot turkey won’t make these guys feel any better about the where we are.”

Then at 30 deg. relative angle, about 40 meters out, I noticed motion and a definite rifle stock behind a small rock outcropping and some dessert bush.

 “I guess, considering that Gen. Osbourne wasn’t obligated to do anything for us out here, I really can’t complain about funny tasting gravy.” I thought.  “It was after all prepared in bulk.  Not like Mom’s kitchen back in Madison.”

I placed the target in sight, center mass, with my index finger lightly over the trigger.

 “Happy Thanksgiving.” I said softly.