M.R. Gonzales while deployed in Operation Desert Shield/Storm. The precise date and location are unknown. (Courtesy of M.R. Gonzales)
Back in 1993 I was stationed at Fort Stewart, Ga., but deployed to Egypt for a multi-national training exercise. This exercise took place over the Thanksgiving holiday. We had been in the field for a couple of weeks and the upcoming Thanksgiving meal was something everyone was looking forward to. Fresh turkey, real potatoes, real stuffing, nothing dehydrated, nothing reconstituted, and nothing from a MRE (Meals Ready to Eat) bag. The day’s mission went by as slow as molasses on a winter day in New England. Everyone was talking about how much food they were going to eat and if there was going to be enough for seconds.
As dinner time came near, we were all wondering where the food was. No one had heard or seen supply helicopters coming into the compound. Word came down from the chain of command: The bird was going to be late — both of them, the helicopter and the guest of honor, the turkey. Not only was the chopper bringing us a feast, it was also carrying our regular meal supply as well since it was the end of the week.
Chow time, but no chow. Lines were forming around the mess hall anticipating the fresh hot chow coming over the horizon. Eyes were glued to the sky looking for those birds. More news from the chain of command: The chopper was going to be delayed due to mechanical problems but should be fixed soon. The soldiers were hungry. Bird or no bird, these soldiers wanted to eat. Giving credit to the mess sergeant, he did the best he could with what he had, which was not much. Our supplies were based on this resupply run.
A couple of hours later the chain of command informed us of what we had already surmised: No turkey tonight. The lower enlisted always eat first and ate what was available that night. I had some “pogey bait” (snacks) in my tent, so I was OK, just so as the soldier got to eat something.
The camp retired for the night with very heavy hearts and unfulfilled bellies. Bedtime now, and my platoon leader and I settled in our respective sleeping bags. We were discussing the day’s events and the disappointment of the troops, as well as ourselves. I was so looking forward to chowing down just like everyone else.
At approximately 2200 hours, we finally heard the chopper. It was way too late to even think about serving any turkey tonight, that would have to wait until tomorrow. We had a knock on our tent at about 2230 hours, it was the chaplain, whose name I can’t recall. We asked him why he was moving about the compound so late at night. He said he was making deliveries. “What?” The chopper did not bring the turkey but had brought individual sandwich portion meat like you find in local store. That was enough meat to make a sandwich, along with an individual sliced cheese package. The chaplain was passing out these items. Who could you trust more than the chaplain to deliver real meat and cheese to a group of hungry soldiers?
So, there I was, somewhere in Egypt, at 2300 hours, sitting up in my sleeping bag, wrapping a real piece of cheese around a real piece of roast beef since we had no bread. My platoon leader and I laughed at our situation, saying that this is best Thanksgiving ever.
Please remember those warfighters in your Thanksgiving Day prayers for guarding the gates of freedom so we may all be together on this day.
M.R. Gonzales is a retired sergeant first class. He lives in Sterling Heights, Mich.
