Smith’s own tastes tended toward the Spartan—he was “as spare as the Marine Corps itself,” wrote one Marine historian. He felt a bit queasy about eating such a meal, with such splendid appointments, knowing that his regiments were freezing out in the field, and in harm’s way. The extravagance of the feast felt unseemly. Once again, he thought, Almond was tone-deaf to the true battlefront situation. To Smith, this Thanksgiving dinner had taken on the quality of a fete that anticipated the war’s end.
