Chief Petty Officer Raymond Quezada carries a turkey from the oven in the galley aboard the littoral combat ship USS Freedom, as he helps to cook and prepare Thanksgiving dinner for the crew.
You know it’s Thanksgiving in America when the grocery stores look like combat zones and the airports look worse. Folks are already easing into that gravy-induced holiday glide path, hunting for the good china, pretending they don’t see Aunt Dianne sneaking a second slice of pie.
But out in the real world — the one far away from recliners and football games — the U.S. military is having its own kind of Thanksgiving. And let me tell you, if you think your family goes all-out on a feast, you haven’t seen sailors trying to make morale rise like a yeast roll.
I stumbled across photos the other day of Thanksgiving aboard the LCS Freedom — yes, the same little ship the Navy loves, hates, and commissions anyway. And there was Cmdr. Don Gabrielson himself, sleeves rolled, serving enlisted sailors with the kind of smile that says, “I signed up for command, not KP, but here we are.” Meanwhile, a senior chief is hauling a turkey across the mess like he’s carrying the nuclear football, and another chief is bathing lobster tails in butter like he’s sending them to crustacean heaven.
You could practically smell the cholesterol through the screen.
Across the services, the scene repeats. Soldiers on the Texas border eating turkey legs in the cab of a Humvee, trying not to get mashed potatoes on the radio handset. Airmen strolling into the chow hall like they’re checking into a Marriott brunch buffet — which, let’s be honest, is basically the Air Force brand. Marines out on some godforsaken Pacific rock, chewing on crayons and turkey MREs and insisting both taste the same. Coasties probably rescuing someone between bites of pumpkin pie. Space Force… well, I assume they’re in their offices watching something in geosynchronous orbit, but I’ll get back to you.
The point is: while most Americans sit down tomorrow and argue over politics and stuffing recipes, hundreds of thousands of service members will be standing watch, underway, deployed, on call, or on duty. They’ll eat where they are — in the rain, in the sand, in the cramped belly of a ship, hunched over a radio console, or in a tent that leaks if you look at it wrong.
The military doesn’t take holidays off. It barely takes naps.
So tomorrow, when you’re spooning gravy or complaining the turkey’s a little dry, spare a thought for the men and women who keep this big, messy, wonderful country humming. They’re out there on the walls — literal and metaphorical — making sure the rest of us can bicker over dinner in peace.
And if you happen to be at a table with a service member, a veteran, or a military family? Pour them an extra glass, hand them the bigger slice of pie, and maybe — just maybe — let them pick the football game.
Happy Thanksgiving to you. And to everyone in uniform: save me some of that lobster. You folks do it right.
