Thanksgiving 1943, India
Excerpt from the diary of Pvt. Edward Hartigan, courtesy of his daughter, the wonderful Jennifer Ziskin:
Thanksgiving
There never was a colder night than last night. About two o'clock the jackals started howling in protest and were shortly joined by the wolves and from the roars, an occasional tiger. They were born and raised here and when they kick about the weather, you can imagine what these G.I. gripers say about it. Before turning in last night we sat around talking about things in general and someone ventured the opinion that if those of us got back ever started telling some of the screwy things that happened to us here, no one would believe it. I said that I had kept a diary and that they'd better believe. Dempsey, a dissolute, wise-cracking harp, who sleeps beside me asked "no kidding, do you keep a diary"? I said yes and he said "That's fine. Leave me two quarts of Grade A every morning." For some reason that struck me as the funniest thing I've heard in years. I laughed so hard I forgot about the weather for fifteen minutes. This morning we fell out in the cold darkness at 6:15. Everybody stood there and forgot to shiver as they listened to the most astounding Thanksgiving address any American, soldier or civilian, ever heard. We were told that anybody who had any field rations left over from our train ride and were found hoarding them would be subject to a court martial. This is on a Thanksgiving morning 12,000 miles from home and roast turkey. Invoking the Articles of War for concealing a can of cold beans and three soda crackers.
Thanksgiving
There never was a colder night than last night. About two o'clock the jackals started howling in protest and were shortly joined by the wolves and from the roars, an occasional tiger. They were born and raised here and when they kick about the weather, you can imagine what these G.I. gripers say about it. Before turning in last night we sat around talking about things in general and someone ventured the opinion that if those of us got back ever started telling some of the screwy things that happened to us here, no one would believe it. I said that I had kept a diary and that they'd better believe. Dempsey, a dissolute, wise-cracking harp, who sleeps beside me asked "no kidding, do you keep a diary"? I said yes and he said "That's fine. Leave me two quarts of Grade A every morning." For some reason that struck me as the funniest thing I've heard in years. I laughed so hard I forgot about the weather for fifteen minutes. This morning we fell out in the cold darkness at 6:15. Everybody stood there and forgot to shiver as they listened to the most astounding Thanksgiving address any American, soldier or civilian, ever heard. We were told that anybody who had any field rations left over from our train ride and were found hoarding them would be subject to a court martial. This is on a Thanksgiving morning 12,000 miles from home and roast turkey. Invoking the Articles of War for concealing a can of cold beans and three soda crackers.