The next day, the talk was still of Thanksgiving. The Canadians from Barracks 11 had pointed out after rollcall that they had quietly and unobtrusively celebrated Thanksgiving the second Monday in October, close to the actual harvest. Late November, they emphasized, made no sense at all.

The Americans were undeterred, and were utterly unimpressed with quiet and unobtrusive anything. They were nothing if not loud and obtrusive and damned proud of it. So they ignored the claims to cultural superiority of their neighbors to the north and continued to talk about and fantasize about their own Thanksgiving traditions, which were actually remarkably similar to the Canadians'. There would be no agreement as to who thought of Thanksgiving first.

Around midday, Olsen and Garlotti were stretched out on their racks, just talking, neighbor to neighbor.

"Boy, I'd give anything for a turkey sandwich. Leftover turkey is the best," Olsen said. "A little cranberry sauce, some stuffing, a couple of slices of bread, and I'm in heaven."

"Don't forget the mashed potatoes," Garlotti said.

"What, on the sandwich?" Olsen said incredulously.

"Oh, hell, yeah. And gravy," Garlotti said. He was nearly as food-obsessed as LeBeau.

"Best thing the Pilgrims ever came up with," Addison interjected.

Carter liked turkey and mashed potatoes as much as the next guy. But he didn't like half-truths and plain old errors, also known in his vocabulary as "lies."

"The pilgrims did not have mashed potatoes and gravy," Carter said fiercely from his spot at the table. "And they didn't have cranberry sauce. They probably didn't even have turkey. Maybe just some small wild turkeys, but it wasn't the main event."

"Oh, yeah, smarty pants? What was the main event?" Addison inquired.

"In the eastern woodlands? Venison, and lots of wildfowl," Carter replied. "Flint corn, chestnuts, and walnuts. Pumpkins and squash. And the Wampanoag probably ate eels and shellfish, like lobster, clams and mussels. They would dry and smoke them."

"We eat eels in London," Newkirk said from his perch at the table, where he was sitting opposite Carter. "Well, not mmme, I think they're horribly disgusting. But j-jellied eels are quite popular."

LeBeau, at the head of the table, made a gagging sound and excused himself. He was definitely not faking it.

"They probably had all of that food, and more," Addison said wisely. "You know, they feasted for three solid days."

"Blimey, that's a lot of food," Newkirk said. Now it was his turn to look nauseated. His stomach was tetchy when it came to abundance.

"Yeah," Olsen and Garlotti said in unison, looking and sounding dreamy. LeBeau, having recovered from his bout of British cuisine-induced retching, managed to smile and gaze happily into the middle distance at the thought of a three-day culinary festival.

"Of course, the Indian king was there," Addison said. "Massachusetts."

"Massasoit," Carter said.

"Same thing," Addison shrugged.

"No, that sounds different to me," Newkirk said helpfully.

"It is different. And Massasoit was a sachem. Not a king," Carter said.

"Say what?" Olsen asked.

"Sa-chem," Carter said patiently. "A chief representing several tribes."

"Me Big Chief," Addison said, thumping his chest.

"No," Carter said, rolling his eyes for the second time in two days, which also the second time in his 25 years. "Not Big Chief. Sachem."

XXX

Kinch was monitoring the radio that night while Carter prepared some supplies for a mission on Saturday night. Newkirk was keeping Kinch company, as he often did, and the topic had turned once again to Thanksgiving.

"Carter seems sort of annoyed with the whole idea of Thanksgiving," Newkirk said. "It sounds an awful lot like Christmas to me."

"I'm not annoyed," Carter said as he rounded a corner. "I just think it's a bunch of hokum."

"Hokum" Newkirk asked.

"Nonsense," Kinch said.

"Oh. Rubbish," Newkirk replied. "That's a bit cynical for you, isn't it Carter?"

"Why is it cynical? There might have been a harvest meal in Plymouth, but Native Americans probably weren't there. And even if they were nice about it, it didn't stop the Pilgrims from slaughtering the hell out of us afterwards."

"Us?" Kinch and Newkirk said in unison.

"Them. I meant them," Carter said.

"Hmm," Kinch said. "Andrew, that doesn't sound like something anyone would want to celebrate."

Carter made an annoyed face, grunted softly, and headed up the ladder without saying goodnight.

Thank you for reading this far. One more chapter will come in a day or two. Reviews greatly appreciated!