“November Twenty - ninth (1917)
Thanksgiving Day. On such a day as this, I begin to think that this is the first such holiday that I have been away from home; and I wonder if a year from today I will be up to my knees in Flanders. But my work came to the rescue, for holidays may come and holidays may go, but my work goes on forever. About nine o’clock I received a telegram from home, and I appreciated it very much. We worked until noon, when we heard the mess call and hurried to see what Uncle Sam had for dinner. And we were well satisfied for there were more things to eat than our mess kits would accommodate: turkey, oyster dressing, potato salad, cranberries, potatoes - all heaped together in the most cosmopolitan fashion. On the flat tray of the kit were butter, celery, green onions, radishes and stuffed olives, and pumpkin pie with ice cream. And for the cup we had the choice of cocoa or lemonade. Too soon it was over, and the vision of a hoped for siesta, or, to be military, - a bit of bunk - fatigue - went glimmering indeed, it was four o’clock before our work was over.”
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