Thanksgiving means something different for everyone. We all have different experiences that teach us that nothing is certain and nothing should be taken for granted. If we are wise, we will heed these lessons and pass those blessings and feelings of gratitude to another generation. No matter how much you attain in life, if it is not appreciated , it immediately loses value to you and everyone around you. This is my story about Thanksgiving 2005, the day I said goodbye to a year of combat operations in the Anbar Province.
It was on a Thursday that we said goodbye to war. We were saying goodbye to Iraq. We loaded our gear onto the 2ton trucks in the crisp morning air. The Sun only began to break the twilight. Steam rolled from our mouths as we labored to heave the heavy duffel bags into a pyramid like stack, all the way to the top of the cab. We caught a bumpy ride in a civilian city bus, not unlike the kind the Iraqis used in downtown Baghdad. The sand rolled under its wheels and churned the baby-powder-like dust as we made our way to the staging area. Eleven months and 29 days earlier I had arrived at this same flight terminal after the hair-raising experience of a combat insertion of a C-130. They don’t call it “down and dirty in a C-130” for nothing.
Within the next 3 hours we would be boarding a C-17 cargo aircraft and leaving Iraq for good. We were headed to aptly named Camp Victory, in Kuwait. Our war was over for now. The only thing left to do was to put things in perspective. Five years later, most of us are still working on that one.
This was a strange time for our Charlie Company First Platoon. We had been through a lot together. We had grown together. We got to know each other like only combat veterans can. We had seen each other face their own fears. We shared in each others triumphs and pitfalls alike. Most of all we were just happy to be alive.
The mid noon day found us unloading our duffel bags and stowing them in our new tents. It was still quite cold and a brisk wind bit at my hands and stung my ears. I wished I had not packed my field jacket at the bottom of my A-bag. I wanted to call my family and tell them I was finally in a safe area so as to quell their worries. There was a two hour wait at the phone tent so I decided to grab some lunch at the chow hall and allow the line at the phone center to go down.
It was strange entering the chow hall without a weapon in my hands as I had done for the previous year. I felt naked and vulnerable without it by my side. I could hear the cooks yelling back and forth at each other as they called out this and that. “ more mashed potatoes in bin # 3” or “We need more turkey and gravy in the overflow dining area”. The place was packed with Marines, Soldiers and service men and women from all branches of the military. After sliding my tray down the rails to the end of the line I had a pile of food fit for a king. I waded through the long tables to find a place to sit down.
There were very few openings available. In the far corner I found a section of table that had just enough room for me to squeeze into without having my elbows jab the person next to me. I bowed my head for a quick prayer and began to select which entrée’ I would start with. As I picked up my first bite I realized that the people I was sitting with wore a different camouflage pattern on their uniform that everyone else. Their rank as different too. It had funny shape to the oak leaf cluster compared to U.S. military rank. I politely nodded my head and smiled a greeting as I swallowed my first bite. I was not quite exactly sure of what to make of who I was in the company of. I put down my fork and began to politely introduce myself. I put on my best Texan accent. “So…. where yaall from with those funny lookin’ uneughforms?” I asked. One of them spoke up. “We are from Canada”. he said blankly.
I stopped chewing that last bite immediately. I knew that Canada was not in support of the war and had made great hay about the fact that they weren’t sending any troops to the region. I sat up straight with an inquisitive look about me and said, “ Hell, I thought Canada was gonna sit this one out?” His response was an unqualified mixture of doubt and pride at the same time. He responded, “ We are sitting this one out.. However, we are part of an exchange program to help train Iraq police and military. “ “Oh. I see“ I said,. “Well. They need all the help they can get too” Slowly and purposefully I cleared my throat and washed down that first bite with a drink of iced tea.” Well that’s good. “ I gotta tell ya. I am damn sure glad to have yalls help.” Looking for some common ground and knowing that Canadians did not feel the same way as America about the war, I continued so stumble “You know, ….Our countries have a long history of fightin’ on the same team. Ya know that the Army Rangers… you heard of them right? .. Well.. they were right there with yall at Dieppe in World War II. I said “Man..I tell ya … those guys must’ve known that there was only one way off that beach. But hey went ahead anyway. Now those are some brave som‘biches right there”
Awkwardly the conversation eventually turned lighter as we started to discuss the merits of the chow facilities at different bases around the country. They commented on how all the big bases had huge big screen TV’s in the corner of every chow hall and they were always turned to the FOX news. They commented on the quality of food.. Then of them said “ I especially like when you Americans celebrate your Thanksgiving holiday. They really bring out the good stuff then “
It had not occurred to me as to why the cooks were in overdrive. It had not occurred to me why there was a two hour wait to make a phone call at the phone center. It never occurred to me as to why I had such a hard time finding an empty seat at the chow hall. Today was THANKSGIVING!! I had been so excited to leave the combat theater; was so excited to call my wife and family that for the last two hours, until someone from another country, who celebrated his thanksgiving three weeks earlier ,had to remind me!. Today was THANKSGIVING!!
I had a lot to be thankful for that day. I was alive. I was breathing. I felt that there is no earthly reason for me to still be alive after all the close calls we had. But for whatever reason God had spared me, and I was damn sure thankful for it.
I barley finished my meal before my new found friends from Canada got up and bid me farewell. I told them that if they were ever in Texas to come on down and we could have a beer and a bar-b-que and shoot up some old car in my pasture for fun. They got a kick out of that. We shook hands and they went on their way. After they had already left , my Platoon Sergeant came over to me and asked who my new friends were . I told him they were Canadians on some exchange program.. He said..” Uh…. You know that enlisted aren’t supposed to just sit down and chat with General officers without being invited right?.. I laughed it off.. “ well hell…. they seemed like good enough folks to me.. How the hell was I supposed to know the damn rank structure of the Canadian freakin’ army!!?
Now at our family Thanksgiving meal we have created a new tradition before our customary prayer. The whole family will gather around the table, standing with hands held together and go around the room and tell everyone what they are thankful for. The first Thanksgiving I had after coming home, it came to be my turn to say what I was thankful for. I said, “I am thankful to be alive”. Everyone said their thanks on around the room until it came to my oldest daughter who was 15 at the time, was holding my left hand. She began to squeeze it just a little as she said. “ I … am just thankful for my Daddy” . I felt a rush of pride and love come over me. My eyes reddened as they strained to hold back the tear that was welling up. I managed to compose myself as I grabbed her in a spontaneous hug. My voice cracked as I said to her. “Yes. Sweetheart I am very thankful to for you too.. “
Christopher S. Watson, retired military after 18 years of service and 3 combat tours. However, I have never forgotten my oath. I tip my hat to all those who serve or have served before me and more especially so towards those who gave the last full measure for Freedom. 
