It began as an ordinary December day. Most Americans were doing what Americans do on a Sunday afternoon. They had gone to church, had Sunday dinner, and were spending the afternoon with their families, not girding for battle. That changed abruptly on December 7, 1941, when the first Associated Press report came over the radio at 2:22 p.m. Eastern Standard Time of a “bombing in Hawaii,” the news was electrifying. My grandparents were returning from the hospital, where their baby girl had just died of pneumonia, and they turned on the radio just as they were announcing the bombing of Pearl Harbor. Not only had Grandmama just lost her baby but also, she realized that she could soon lose her husband to the imminent war. Granddaddy fought in World War II, serving in the Army Corps of Engineers. Luckily, he safely returned home to my Grandmama, and they had two more children: my father and my aunt.

Pearl Harbor marked a watershed in the nation’s history. What came after would be very different from what came before. It was the war that changed the world. “The Day of Infamy” thrust us into a conflict more than four years long that altered nearly every aspect of American life, large and small—from rationing gas and sugar, the harnessing of atomic power, and the new role of women in the workplace. The United States united again to defend our democracy as they had in the First World War some twenty-four years earlier. For more than 400,000, it would be the ultimate sacrifice, which is why it is so important to remember the anniversary of Pearl Harbor.

The Japanese bombing began at 7:55 a.m. Hawaiian time and lasted little more than an hour. It devastated the American military base on the island of Oahu in the Hawaiian Islands. Nearly all the ships of the U.S. Pacific Fleet were anchored there side by side, and most were damaged or destroyed; half the bombers at the Army’s Hickam Field were destroyed. The battleship USS Arizona sank, and 1,177 sailors and Marines went down with the ship, which became their tomb. In all, the attack claimed more than 3,000 casualties—2,403 killed and 1,178 wounded. Luckily for the U.S. Navy, the aircraft carriers in the Pacific Fleet were out on maneuvers. These carriers would be vital in the Pacific War against the Japanese. On the same day as the attack on Pearl Harbor, the Japanese also attacked Malaya, Hong Kong, Guam, the Philippine Islands, Wake Island, and Midway Island.

President Franklin D. Roosevelt called a Joint Session of the U.S. Congress for the next day. The address is one of the most famous of all American political speeches. The speech was less than eight minutes long, and he opened the speech with these unforgettable words: “Yesterday, December 7, 1941—a date which will live in infamy—the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan.” The speech had an immediate and long-lasting impact. Thirty-three minutes after he finished speaking, Congress declared war on Japan, with only one Representative, Jeannette Rankin, voting against the declaration. A lifelong pacifist, Rankin had also voted against the declaration of war in 1917. Each time it cost Rankin, who was the first woman to be elected to federal office, any hope of reelection. The speech was broadcast live by radio and attracted the largest audience in U.S. radio history, with over 81 percent of American homes tuning in to hear the President. The response was overwhelmingly positive, both within and outside of Congress.

During the war, 671,801 service members would be wounded, and 419,400 Americans would die during the war. As many as 85 million were killed during the war from all belligerents. Let us not forget those deaths.

As we prepare for Thanksgiving tomorrow, let us look back on what it was like in the United States during the last Thanksgiving celebrated during a pandemic. The Spanish Flu was raging in November 1918. They were coming to the end of the worst of the second wave, and like this year, many government leaders and health officials encouraged people to have small Thanksgiving gatherings. Did they listen? What can the Spanish Flu pandemic teach us for Thanksgiving 2020?

Thanksgiving 1918 took place during a deadly pandemic. The pandemic began in February 1918 (possibly as early as December 1917, at Camp Greene, North Carolina) and lasted until April 1920. It infected 500 million people – about a third of the world’s population at the time – in four successive waves. The first wave lasted from March to July 1918 and was relatively mild. The second wave was much deadlier, beginning in August and receding in December. The third wave started in January 1919 and lasted through July. It was less severe than the second wave but still much more deadly than the initial first wave. The fourth wave hit in January 1920 and continued until April of that year. While it was called the Spanish Flu, it is believed that it mutated to become one of history’s most dangerous pandemics in the United States. Due to World War I, many countries engaged in wartime censorship and suppressed reporting of the pandemic; however, newspapers were allowed to report the epidemic’s effects in neutral Spain, such as the grave illness of King Alfonso XIII, and these stories created a false impression of Spain as especially hard hit.

On Thanksgiving 1918, a thankful nation celebrated with particular enthusiasm, though many Americans, like today, lived under various phases of quarantines and face mask orders. Millions mourned loved ones. And health officials in many cities issued the same holiday warning: Stay home and stay safe. As Thanksgiving rolled around, some cities celebrated the relaxation of flu-related restrictions—partly due to opposition campaigns by retailers, theater owners, unions, mass transportation companies, and other economically stressed stakeholders. Washington, Indianapolis, and Oakland, California, had lifted restrictions days before, and San Francisco was on the brink of lifting its mask mandate. In some cities, Thanksgiving rituals brought a welcome sense of normalcy. Many Americans returned to religious services, performed charity work, and went through with planned football games, parties, and performances.

However, not all was well. On November 27, the day before Thanksgiving, St. Louis reported its highest new daily case count since the epidemic began, and Buffalo, New York, reported its largest jump in daily cases since the lifting of its pandemic ban weeks earlier. Both cities subsequently cracked down on public gatherings, limited the number of passengers on streetcars, and ordered those cars to be ventilated and cleaned. The month before, the pandemic was blamed for killing 11,000 in Philadelphia. The epidemic ultimately claimed an estimated 675,000 American lives, probably a tremendous underestimate since it did not include countless deaths involving preexisting conditions. The pandemic was raging in the fall of 1918. Yet on November 28, 1918, the United States celebrated Thanksgiving. In his annual Thanksgiving proclamation, President Woodrow Wilson didn’t even mention the flu, which he later contracted himself while in France for the WWI Peace Conference.

COVID-19 is casting its long, persistent shadow over Thanksgiving 2020, but for various reasons, the Spanish flu didn’t have a similar effect in 1918 on Thanksgiving or the subsequent holidays. That likely had consequences later. The Great War had ended two and a half weeks earlier. It appeared to be a good reason for giving thanks. In the minds of many Americans, they had a lot for which to be thankful. The war was over, and they were still alive. This year, we have the defeat of Donald Trump for which to celebrate. A dark period in American history is coming to an end, but I digress. In November 1918, the flu continued to kill people worldwide, but it appeared to be in retreat. By Thanksgiving, people were anxious to forget a pandemic that they didn’t understand in the first place.

COVID-19 and the Spanish flu appear to have at least one thing in common: they both induced certain degrees of denial, but in so many other ways, they are as different as Thanksgiving 1918 and Thanksgiving 2020. The most significant contrast is in ferocity. In October 1918, the flu claimed as many lives as 4,500 in a week, and 13,500 in the September-through-December period in Philadelphia, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. So far, just under 2,000 deaths have been attributed to COVID-19 in the city. In Pennsylvania, nearly two-thirds of coronavirus deaths have occurred in nursing facilities. The Spanish flu’s favored targets were people 20 to 40 years old. In all, the virus infected 25 percent of Americans. 

Philadelphia’s infamous Liberty Bond Parade of September 28, 1918, was attended by 200,000 people and featured march king John Philip Sousa. It was a major superspreader event, and deaths spiked within 72 hours. On October 3, Pennsylvania ordered all theaters and saloons closed, and Philadelphia added schools and churches to the list. But it was too late: During the week that ended October 19, 4,500 were dead. By the first week in November, the flu virus seemed to be winding down, and even though massive crowds gathered to celebrate the war-ending Armistice on November 11, the aftereffects were not as dire, but the number of cases did rise. In the week that ended November 23, the city did report 103 deaths. That did not stop Thanksgiving.

Just as cases rose after Armistice Day celebrations, they rose again after Thanksgiving. Dallas, Minneapolis, San Antonio, San Francisco, and Seattle saw surges. Omaha relaunched a public health campaign. Parts of Cleveland and its suburbs closed schools and enacted influenza bans in early December. On December 6, the St. Paul Daily News announced that more than 40 Minneapolis schools were closed because of the flu, below the headline “SANTA CLAUS IS DOWN WITH THE FLU.” Health officials asked “moving picture show” managers to exclude children, closed Sunday schools, and ordered department stores to dispense with “Santa Claus programs.” On Christmas Eve, health officials in Nebraska made influenza a mandatory quarantine disease, and fines ranged from $15 to $100 for violations. Approximately 1,000 homes in Omaha were placarded, meaning their occupants could not leave for at least four days after the fever had subsided. By January, influenza fully engulfed the United States in the third wave of the pandemic. The virus spread throughout the winter and spring, killing thousands more. 

During the war, sustaining morale was seen as the most important goal of the government, and that “no bad news allowed” spirit lingered after the war. People had lived through rationing and had watched loved ones die in front of their eyes. Every day already was a hardship experience, and people were reeling on an everyday basis. In short, Americans were ready for a break and were thinking they could finally step back from the height of scarcities. The New York Sunwrote of families welcoming returning military personnel they didn’t know into their homes for dinner.

The flu, however, did not go away. It experienced a resurgence in December, and the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention reported that in the first six months of 1919, “influenza” deaths were matching the annual totals for each of 1915, 1916, and 1917. Experts believe that it would not have lasted as long as it did or been as deadly if people had been keeping to themselves. It would be impossible to precisely know what effects mitigation efforts would have had on the flu’s spread. Still, we can see today that in areas where governments imposed greater mitigation efforts, COVID-19 was better contained, and infection rates were lower. Like today, in 1918, the nation had no organized response, leaving it to states and local governments. Some cities in the West did have mask ordinances, as did Atlanta. But when he shut down theaters and saloons, the Pennsylvania health commissioner did not address masks or physical distancing, mentioning only the importance of getting fresh air and exercise.

The response or lack thereof wasn’t surprising since people were apt to view what was happening as a “flu,” with which they were familiar, not some exotic plague. While some Americans don’t know anyone who has been affected by COVID-19, that is becoming a rarer occurrence. COVID has had such an inordinate impact on people of color, the marginalized, the elderly, and Americans do not want to acknowledge the vulnerable in our society. That’s part of the reason Donald Trump was so successful with his followers. Like him, they do not care about others and refuse to wear masks or social distance even though it has been proven effective in preventing the mask wearer from spreading the virus to someone else.

Given that so many fatalities are occurring among people with preexisting conditions, we need to look at what that means for the health of the United States. We would be wise now to turn our attention to fighting the likes of diabetes, hypertension, and obesity. The state of American healthcare has proven to be an issue during this pandemic. Rural areas with no hospitals and few doctors in the county are suffering greatly. Poverty and poor health conditions are a significant problem in this country. Rather than merely bracing for the next pandemic, we have numerous public health priorities that need to be addressed.

We do have things to be thankful for this Thanksgiving. Donald Trump and many of his cronies will be leaving office on January 20. We can still hold out hope that John Ossoff and Rev. Raphael Warnock will win the January 5 runoffs in Georgia and give Democrats control of the Senate. If that happens, we will see the death nail in the coffin of Trumpism, at least for two years. Also, if you are reading this, it means you are alive. We will get through this pandemic, but we need to remain vigilant. That means we need to avoid unnecessary travel and gathering. I know it is disappointing for many Americans, but we can get through this so that we can celebrate many, many more Thanksgivings. The better part of valor is to stay home and stay safe so that we can have more to be thankful for next Thanksgiving.

While military service often demands sacrifices from those in uniform, historically, LGBTQ+ veterans have faced a unique set of challenges. Many of these veterans, following a call to serve, meant keeping their private lives entirely private, fearing that exclusionary policies would hold them back or end their careers altogether. There are an estimated 1 million lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender veterans in the United States. 

LGBTQ+ soldiers have always been part of the American military. In an era before gay marriage or open pride, military men fell in love, formed passionate friendships, and had same-sex encounters. Due to social and official discrimination, though, most of their stories have gone untold. But in the case of one of the military’s founding heroes, homosexuality was always part of the story. Baron Friedrich von Steuben, a Prussian military man hired by George Washington to whip the Continental Army into shape during the darkest days of the Revolutionary War, is known for his bravery and the discipline and grit he brought to the American troops. Historians also think he was homosexual—and served as an openly gay man in the military at a time when sex between men was punished as a crime. Benjamin Franklin recommended von Steuben to Washington and played up his qualifications. He also downplayed rumors that the baron had been dismissed from the Prussian military for homosexuality.

Von Steuben may have been one of early America’s most open LGBTQ+ figures, but he was hardly the only man whose love of other men was well known. And though he was to have helped save the American army, his contribution is mostly forgotten today. Even with an exception like von Steuben, few LGBTQ+ service members have served openly in the military until recently. However, exceptions were always made for LGBTQ+ individuals as long as they generally remained discreet and deemed useful to the US military. Since the Revolutionary War, homosexuality was grounds for discharge from all US military branches until 2010. During World War II, the military began enforcing specific policies based on sexual orientation. Homosexuality was a disqualifying trait as soon as the military added psychiatric screenings to its induction process. During the war, the blue discharge became the “discharge of choice” for homosexual service members — which, though neither honorable nor dishonorable, prevented former service members from utilizing the GI Bill and held extremely negative connotations, often preventing veterans from integrating back into civilian life.

Still, LGBTQ+ individuals continued to serve while in the closet. After World War II, members of the Mattachine Society, one of the earliest LGBT (gay rights) organizations in the United States, protested the US policy against gays serving in the military. They believed they should be able to serve their country in any capacity, whether it be in government or the military. They felt that service in the military would lead to more acceptance for gay men. However, that would change during the Vietnam War. Young gay men rebelled against early organizations like the Mattachine Society. Young gay men had to choose whether to reveal or conceal their homosexuality when they came before the draft board because with the draft board being composed of local citizens, this could mean being outed to friends, neighbors, or parents. The dilemma faced by gay youths polarized the gay liberation movement, and young gay men joined in on the antiwar protests. With the Vietnam War and the draft still very much a reality, gay rights groups turned their backs on the issue of military service because they did not want to be drafted. However, the government also turned their backs on the ban and forced many gay men who were drafted to serve, deciding that they needed the manpower more than they needed to uphold the ban on military service. When personnel shortages occurred, the US military was all too happy to allow LGBTQ+ individuals to serve, particularly gay men. 

The LGBTQ+ rights movement in the 1970s and 1980s once again changed positions and advocated for LGBTQ+ individuals to serve in the military. They raised the issue by publicizing several noteworthy dismissals of gay service members. Sgt. Leonard Matlovich appeared on the cover of Time in 1975. In 1982, the Department of Defense issued a policy stating, “Homosexuality is incompatible with military service.” It cited the military’s need “to maintain discipline, good order, and morale” and “to prevent breaches of security.” In 1988, in response to a campaign against lesbians at the Marines’ Parris Island Depot, activists launched the Gay and Lesbian Military Freedom Project (MFP) to advocate for an end to the exclusion of gays and lesbians from the armed forces. 

In 1989, reports commissioned by the Personnel Security Research and Education Center (PERSEREC), an arm of the Pentagon, were discovered in the process of Joseph Steffan’s lawsuit fighting his forced resignation from the US Naval Academy. One report said that “having a same-gender or an opposite-gender orientation is unrelated to job performance in the same way as is being left- or right-handed.” Other lawsuits fighting discharges highlighted the service record of service members like Tracy Thorne and Margarethe (Grethe) Cammermeyer. The MFP began lobbying Congress in 1990, and in 1991 Senator Brock Adams (D-Washington) and Rep. Barbara Boxer (D-California) introduced the Military Freedom Act, legislation to end the ban entirely. Adams and Rep. Pat Schroeder (D-Colorado) re-introduced it the next year. In July 1991, Secretary of Defense Dick Cheney, in the context of the outing of his press aide Pete Williams, dismissed the idea that gays posed a security risk as “a bit of an old chestnut” in testimony before the House Budget Committee. In response to his comment, several major newspapers endorsed ending the ban, including USA Today, the Los Angeles Times, and the Detroit Free Press. In June 1992, the General Accounting Office released a report that Congress members had requested two years earlier, estimating the costs associated with the ban on gays and lesbians in the military at $27 million annually.

During the 1992 US presidential election campaign, the civil rights of gays and lesbians, particularly their open service in the military, attracted some press attention, and all candidates for the Democratic presidential nomination supported ending the ban on military service by gays and lesbians. Republicans did not make a political issue of that position. In an August cover letter to all his senior officers, Gen. Carl Mundy, Jr., Commandant of the Marine Corps, praised a position paper authored by a Marine Corps chaplain that said that “In the unique, intensely close environment of the military, homosexual conduct can threaten the lives, including the physical (e.g., AIDS) and psychological well-being of others.” Mundy called it “extremely insightful” and said it offered “a sound basis for discussion of the issue.” The murder of gay US Navy petty officer Allen R. Schindler, Jr. on October 27, 1992, brought calls from advocates of allowing open service by gays and lesbians for prompt action from the incoming Clinton administration.

President Bill Clinton campaigned in 1992 on the promise to allow all citizens to serve in the military regardless of sexual orientation. Clinton called for legislation to overturn the ban but encountered intense opposition from the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Congress members, and portions of the public. Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell (DADT) emerged as a compromise policy. On December 21, 1993, the Clinton Administration issued Defense Directive 1304.26, which directed that military applicants were not to be asked about their sexual orientation. The full name of the policy at the time was “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, Don’t Pursue.” The “Don’t Ask” provision mandated that military or appointed officials will not ask about or require members to reveal their sexual orientation. The “Don’t Tell” stated that a member may be discharged for claiming to be a homosexual or bisexual or making a statement indicating a tendency towards or intent to engage in homosexual activities. The “Don’t Pursue” established what was minimally required for an investigation to be initiated. A “Don’t Harass” provision was added to the policy later. It ensured that the military would not allow harassment or violence against service members for any reason.

Fast-forward to the 2008 US presidential election campaign. Senator Barack Obama advocated a full repeal of the laws barring gays and lesbians from serving in the military. Nineteen days after his election, Obama’s advisers announced that plans to repeal the policy might be delayed until 2010 because Obama first wanted “to confer with the Joint Chiefs of Staff and his new political appointees at the Pentagon to reach a consensus, and then present legislation to Congress.” As president, he advocated a policy change to allow gay personnel to serve openly in the armed forces, stating that the US government has spent millions of dollars replacing troops expelled from the military, including language experts fluent in Arabic, because of DADT.

In December 2010, the House of Representatives and the Senate passed a bill repealing DADT, and President Obama signed the repeal into law on December 22, 2010. Restrictions on lesbian, gay, and bisexual service members ended in 2011. In 2016, the Obama Administration lifted the ban on transgender people serving in the military. However, under the Trump administration, transgender individuals have been banned from serving in the military. On July 26, 2017, Trump announced on his Twitter page that transgender individuals would no longer be allowed “to serve in any capacity in the US Military.” At the time, close to 15,000 transgender troops serve in the military, and Trump’s ban was denounced by former military leaders, Members of Congress from both parties, and the American Medical Association. 

For 234 years, the United States had anti-LGBTQ+ policies that prevented many thousands of brave, talented soldiers, sailors, and marines from stepping up to serve in national defense. Lesbians, gays, and bisexuals can now serve openly in the military, and once the Biden administration enters office, transgender individuals will once again be able to serve in the military. Just as we owe so much to heterosexual servicemembers, LGBTQ+ service members have not only sacrificed their lives for this country but, for most of its history, had to serve in silence. On this Veterans Day, let us not forget the millions of lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender veterans who have served in the United States military.

*The nation’s largest LGBTQ military event of the year, the American Military Partner Association National Gala celebrates and honors our modern military families for their service and sacrifice.