In October 1976 I was working at the Veterans Administration Hospital in Durham, N.C. Earlier that fall I had joined an adult soccer league and in my first game I hyperextended my knee and tore my anterior cruciate ligament. I was fortunate to have a conservative orthopedic surgeon who urged me to try to avoid surgery (not that successful in those days) and to see how I did with vigorous rehabilitation. And so, once the swelling and pain had subsided, I dutifully went to physical therapy every day at lunchtime to strengthen the muscles around my knee.

In 1976, there was an abundance of young former servicemen and a few women who had been injured in Vietnam, in addition to the veterans of Korea and the two World Wars. The war injuries tended to be more common in lower limbs due to land mines and booby traps the enemy was using. Statistics showed that more GIs were surviving battle trauma thanks to air evacuation as well as advances in surgical and medical care.

The physical therapy department at the hospital scheduled patients in regular time slots. And every day, as I came during the noon hour there was the same trio of patients. We talked briefly about our injuries and they told me about what it was like in combat. I had served in the Air Force during the Vietnam era, but had the good fortune to have served my entire tour in the United States.

The youngest of the three, in his early 20s, had stepped on a land mine which miraculously (my judgment) had taken off only the front half of his foot. Unfortunately, the wound hadn't healed properly and he underwent an amputation at the ankle.

The second man was slightly older and had suffered trauma to both legs, also from a land mine, which necessitated below-the-knee amputations. He was adjusting to using new leg prostheses.

The third man, the prototypical grizzled sergeant, had been in a bunker that had taken a direct hit from a rocket-propelled grenade. He lost his right arm just below the shoulder, as well as both legs.

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As the days progressed in November, the talk in physical therapy turned to the upcoming holidays, beginning with Thanksgiving. All three of the ex-GIs would be going home on leave for the holidays.

The two men with the more significant amputations were excited about spending the holidays with their families. The youngest, however, was really depressed over his lost foot and was clearly not in the mood for giving thanks. I, too, was certainly not happy with my injury, which paled in comparison to what these three men had lost.

The youngest veteran started a conversation in which he wondered why his two buddies had anything to be thankful for. "Look at us," he said. "We're cripples for life."

"Well," said the double amputee. "It could have been worse. I'm thankful I still have most of my legs and both arms."

"I'm thankful, too," said the third man.

"For what?" asked the younger man. "You've lost both legs and an arm."

The old sergeant looked at the young man and with a tear in his eye said, "You know I told you how I was wounded. What I didn't tell you, son, was that the day I lost my arm and both legs I was with three other men from my squad. Of the four of us, I am the only one who will be celebrating Thanksgiving this year."

The silence that followed was deafening. After hearing that story I no longer felt so bad about my injury. I realized then that it is sometimes better to look to the glass being half full rather than half empty.

Every year as Thanksgiving comes around, I think about those three men and realize how grateful I am for having been able to share the experience with them. And, I give thanks for my lot, knowing that for too many people throughout the world things are worse.

Cartoonist Rob Rogers does "Rob's Rough," an early look at his work and his creative process, exclusively at PG+, a members-only web site of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. Our introduction to PG+ gives you all the details.