I made it a point to get to the Charleston Naval Base’s mess hall by noon on Thanksgiving in 1972. I knew that the Navy always put on a great meal on holidays, and I was looking forward to it.

As a young sailor, I had a part-time job working in the base library; I inherited the job from another fellow in my command, who was being transferred. We were assigned to the Registered Publications Issuing Office, and the librarian liked to employ guys from that office, since most of us had some college and were familiar with libraries. The command always gave Miss Allyn, the head librarian, a copy of our watch bill so that she wouldn’t schedule anybody on days when they had the duty.

I had to open the library at 1300. It may seem unusual that a library would be open on Thanksgiving, but many of our patrons were young sailors living in the barracks, and there wasn’t much for them to do on holidays. They liked to come to the library and pick out a record album. I’d put the album on the player and check out a set of headphones for them. The listener may have had to wait a while if there were other records ahead of his.

When I got to the mess hall at noon with my stomach rumbling, there was a sign on the door saying that because of the holiday meal, the hall would open at 1400. There was no place else on base where I could get a meal, so I got in my car and headed out the main gate. The first restaurant I found was a Howard Johnson’s, and there I stopped. So on Thanksgiving 1972, I had the turkey dinner special at HoJo’s.

Years later, after I had left active duty but was a drilling reserve officer, we began to host Thanksgiving at our house, in Mystic. Remembering my HoJo turkey dinner, I said that no sailor should have to eat alone on Thanksgiving. Groton Parks and Rec had a program (which is now run by the office of the naval base’s chaplain) through which families could invite young sailors to eat with them for Thanksgiving. This was before the Sub Vets began their wonderful program.

I called the office, and we were matched up with two young sub-school students. Each year, I arranged with the guys to pick them up early. Since they were just out of high school and I was teaching in Groton, I’d take them to the annual Fitch–New London football game. Some of those mornings could be very cold!

One Thanksgiving morning, we woke to find several inches of snow on the ground. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to pick up the sailors as we had scheduled. I tried to call them but didn’t have much success getting hold of them — until I finally introduced myself as Lieutenant Welt. Somehow the barracks’ master-at-arms was able to find the individuals and have them call me back!

One year we were able to avert a dinner crisis. Our oven died when the bird was half cooked. We called our neighbor across the street, and she let us put our turkey in her oven. As I recall, she even basted it for us and called when the timer popped up.

The sailors who dined with us were generally young and, for the most part, celebrating their first holiday away from home. I think they liked having kids around but were probably thankful that they didn’t have to sit at the kids’ table. My daughters still remember the fellow who could crack two walnuts in his hand. One visitor we had, Andrew, was not a young person, but a chief petty officer on a Canadian submarine that was visiting the base. He was a whiz at Trivial Pursuit, as he knew all the Canadian questions.

One year we got a call from the parks and rec department asking if a local TV station could do a story about having sailors for Thanksgiving. That was an interesting day: Moving a turkey from the roasting pan to the cutting board without getting drippings on my vest, and with a TV camera over my shoulder, is something I’ll long remember.

The camera continued to roll as we were seated at the table. One of our guests, an English doctor, recited a Hebrew prayer of thanks, while I read one from the Book of Common Prayer.

Today, we celebrate with my daughter and her family. While we don’t see young seamen in their dress blues, there are always several veterans at the table, and my granddaughter’s grace always includes prayers for those who can’t be with their families on this day.