SEVENTEEN
Nov. 26th: 1000 hours
My dear Mildred,
I got your letter four days ago. But, we've been so busy, that I haven't had a chance to even read it until now.
I'm glad to hear that the kids and the grand kids will be spending Thanksgiving with you. I know that you'll enjoy being with them. I wish that I could be with you, too, dear one. Tell them that I love them and that I will be thinking about them---and you---tomorrow when the family gathers around the table.
Our own Thanksgiving plans have become brighter. Sarabeth MacAllister's family, and possibly everyone else in her home town, sent her several crates packed with food. When she and Klinger returned from Kimpo with that shipment, the supply truck was unloaded faster that I have ever seen one unloaded before. Everyone here was so excited about having fresh meat to eat.
She came over to my office a few minutes ago. She was tired---she had just finished her post-op shift. She asked me how I wanted to distribute the meat and garden produce her family had provided. I have been trying to decide about that. She is very generous with her possessions. And one person couldn't possibly eat all of that alone. Still, it doesn't seem quite fair for everyone to assume that she is going to give all of her food away to them. I asked her for her suggestions. As usual, she had already prepared a plan of action.
She wanted to cook some of the meat into a nutritious broth; both for the patients and for the surgical teams during long OR sessions. This broth could be frozen in small containers and heated quickly when needed. That's a very good idea. We often have patients who aren't ready for solid foods but who could have more than an IV solution. And a cup of hot broth would be a great 'pick-me-up' during surgery.
MacAllister also wanted to give some of the food to the orphanage; and some to Cochlan's outfit—if we could locate them. The rest would be shared with everyone here as part of our Thanksgiving meal—with the senior officers being given the first opportunity to choose their own.
She laughed when I asked her if she had saved any of this meat for herself and her brothers. She said she had to: she knew her brothers would 'nail her hide to a barn wall' if she didn't.
Father Mulcahy, Nurse Kellye, B J Hunnicutt, and some of the other people here, have asked me if they could take up a collection to help pay for the shipping costs for the food MacAllister's family sent to us. I agreed to their plan. It must have been very expensive to ship all of that here. It is the least we can do to help repay their generosity. I did ask B J if he wanted to keep this fundraiser a 'secret'. He grinned and said we might as well, since we have so many other secrets going on around here. I turned that project over to them.
We're also going to have another of our 'Fireside Chats' after we eat. I enjoyed the first one we had. You would have liked it, too. I'll let you know if Sarabeth steers us into any more puns this time.
With good food inside us and good entertainment afterwards, we should have an increase in morale, again. I hope so. We need all the extra cheer we can get.
Colonel MacAllister has been keeping me up to date with war developments; especially ones that might affect this camp. He doesn't paint a very pleasant picture.
Colonel Flagg showed up here, again. Pierce had another battle of words and wits with him. I am surprised that no one else reported any conversations with him. He usually likes to annoy as many people as he can. I know the man has an important job to perform but his fervor can be quite aggravating.
Anyway, I can't wait to sink my teeth into that T-bone steak I signed up for.
I love you, Mildred; always.
Sherm
