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Chapter 8: Thanksgiving
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Eight Thanksgiving Kill a Commie for Christ. - latrinegraffiti With Ferona's drop the floodgates opened, and several others rushed quickly through. I knew the ones who dropped out traded some momentary relief for future problems. But they had [0 stay at Benning for six weeks while they qualified for the Infuntry. They could be-and most were-sent straight [0 Vietnam as PFCs. Several who had come to OCS from other training programs such as communications or clerk school, thought that they would be able to go back to their old assignments. As badly as the Army wanted Infantry first lieutenants, it also needed grunts. For many, it was a real shock {O hit Casual Company and then, within thirty days, get orders to Vietnam. The powers that be moved them Out ofthe assigned platoons into a few rooms at the back of sixth platoon until after Christmas, when they would move to Casual Company and wait for orders. The TACs continued to try to pinpoint people they thought wouldn't make it, and they kept on harassing us. One day they only gave us twenty minutes for lunch. I was in the line early and got to eat, but half the guys were standing in the chow line holding trays when the call to fall in came. The only break in the third week was Thanksgiving. We weren't very aware of it until dinner thar day, two days after the twenty-minute lunch. We marched back from a day of training at lnfamry Hall on "Character Guidance" and were told to pur on ollr dress uniforms and fallout in the company area in a halfhout. As usual we had no idea what was happening; we just followed orders. \'Ve hustled to put on our dress green uniforms and go outside to the company area. We marched over to the battalion mess hall and discovered it decorated for Thanksgiving so that it looked like a grade-school library with paper turkeys and silhouette Pilgrims hanging on the walls. Another company was ahead of us in the line, so it took almost forty minutes to move through to get served. We did the usual, standing at parade rest until the line moved, when we would snap to attention, step up, parade rest again, over and over until we got to the from of the line. But as the members of the company ahead of us first began 10 take their sealS, it was dear that the usual requiremenlS of the "square meaJ" were relaxed. There was no talking and everyone sat with their eyes ahead. But we could eat fairly normally without putting down the fork or knife after every bite. h was a traditional Thanksgiving dinner, turkey and dressing, sweet potatoes and cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie. I was so hungry after a long hard week that I don't think I really tasted the food, bur the pleasure lay in eating fairly normally. Before the meal was over, Rancek stood up. ''As soon as the meal is over, you men will go to the chapel where you will give proper thanks for being in this Army on this glorious last Thanksgiving of [he 1960s. You will pay respect, and you will think seriously aboUf what the future holds for you. And while you're there, look at the man on your right and then the man on your [eft. When we're done here £wemy-one weeks from now, one of them won't be there. Now on your feet and into the street." Each battalion area had a small chapel. but we were headed ro the main Fon Benning chapel and we were going in trucks. It felt good to have the dress green tunic, for the night air was cold, especially in the back of the truck. We marched into the chapel and sat quietly in the darkened pews umil the chaplain arrived. The first three weeks had been so framic and stressed that an opportunity for quiet contemplation was a gift. I had long ago left my mother's church and the trappings offormal religion, but the chapel held an atmosphere that spoke, especially in the silence. O n the outside, even in church, people whisper and break the silence, but in here, no one moved. Just as I began ro get fully into the spirit of the moment, the chaplain rook the podium. He was a short, pot-bellied man, almost completely bald except for...