Thanksgiving

Time for my annual Thanksgiving post.

I don't remember details of our Thanksgivings when I was a boy except for this one.  It was unique and I post this story every Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving Guests

It was about a week before Thanksgiving.  World War II was raging, and the USO took out ads in both the Call Bulletin and the Examiner asking people to invite servicemen to their homes for the holiday.   Mom called the USO and asked them to send over two.

By Noon on Thanksgiving day all of the family had arrived at the house.  Grandma was there.  So was Cousin Emile and Uncle Bob and Aunty Mit.  Mom set out the crackers and cheese and everyone was talking about their jobs, about the war, and about the shortages of meat and sugar and gasoline.  We didn't have a car, so Dad wasn't concerned about the shortage of gasoline, but Uncle Bob and Cousin Emile were.

Mom began to wonder if our guests were going to show up.  The USO said they were going to send over two.  The table was already set and the food was almost ready.  I don't know how many ration coupons Mom used for the turkey, but it must have been quite a few.  It was the biggest one we ever had.

About one o'clock they knocked on the front door.  Dad opened it, and two sailors were standing there.  They were dressed in their blue uniforms, pea jackets, and white hats.  They introduced themselves as Mike and Joe.

Lee and I were excited.  We didn't know any servicemen.  Dad and Uncle Bob were too old to be drafted.  Cousin Emile had a medical problem.  Dad's business partner, Ray, was in the Army, but we hadn't seen him since he left for basic training.  I think he was somewhere in Italy.

Mike and Joe were a little shy and didn't quite know what to do.  Dad introduced them to everyone and they sat down on the couch.  Lee and I sat next to them.

Mom and Aunty Mit began asking them questions about their homes and families.

Mike was from Michigan and Joe was from Texas.  They hadn't been overseas yet.  They were stationed at Treasure Island, waiting for their ships to arrive in port.

Lee and I asked them about ships and guns and what it was like to be in the Navy.  We asked them everything small boys want to know about war, and what they probably wanted to forget for a while.  But they were nice about it, and even let Lee and I wear their hats and pea jackets for a while.

By the time Thanksgiving dinner was on the table the two sailors were more at ease.  They began talking freely about their homes and their families, and how much they missed them.   I thought that was odd.  Why would anyone want to stay home when there were great ships to play on and a great war to go to.

We seldom said grace before meals, but on this day Dad bowed his head and thanked the Lord for our good fortune, and for the guests he sent us this day, and asked that He watch over our two sailors when they sailed out into the Pacific.

Mike and Joe obviously enjoyed the meal, and the conversation, and the attention they were getting.  They stayed until early evening and then they had to leave.  They had to be back on Treasure Island by 9 o'clock.

We said good-bye to them.  Lee and I stood on the sidewalk and watched them walk down the block.  Just before they turned the corner they turned and waved to us.  We waved back.
We went back in the house.  Mom was wiping her eyes with a handkerchief.  Dad put his arm around her and said, "They'll be alright."  Lee and I wondered if anything was wrong.

We never heard from Joe again.  A few months later we got a letter from Mike, somewhere in the Pacific.  It didn't say much, just that he was now on his ship and he thanked us for the Thanksgiving dinner.

Many of our classmates had relatives in that war.  Until now, Lee and I had none.  But we considered Mike and Joe our relatives in the war.  When anybody talked about a cousin or brother or uncle in Italy, or North Africa, or Guam, Lee and I would tell them that our adopted cousins, Mike and Joe, were in the Pacific.