I asked my son to tell me a story about his time in Iraq. He told me that as the Christmas season approached, they would get a few packages packages marked "Any soldier" - they figured that included Grunts, so mail call was something to look forward to. One day the mail truck pulled up to their little COP and shoved a mess of boxes out into the mud before hauling ass. One of his squad grabbed a big box and laughed all the way to their hooch. With that big a box, why it had to be full of cookies, or jerky, any number of goodies. When opened, the box held a plastic Christmas tree, strings of LED lights and (thank goodness) a few batteries. NO food. By the time they had it opened, the rest of the boxes - and goodies, were long gone. So, bigger is not always better! They we living in a bombed out house, with one room still mostly intact - both rain and light tight. So, they set up the tree, then chipped in to make a trip to the local village to buy some nan and fixing for chai tea With their little kero wick heater to make hot tea, they sat and watched the lights blink away while the world went on without them - sharing their Christmases of past. So today, we still send packages to FPOs in the zone, but always filled with eats! You have any fun Christmas stories to share?
When I was deployed down range several times, we were always on alert, and couldn't leave the secure compound on base, much less be away from the T.O.C. more then 100 yards, so we couldn't go to the BX or even the mess, every thing had to be shipped directly to us, or had to be brought to us by folks outside on the non secure part of the base! The first Christmas, a few families had sent cookies and Beef Jerky, but nothing else. The cookies were a real treat and didn't last long. The mess stewards had all but forgotten us, having no idea that we couldnt leave our post for any reason, so we missed out on the ONE good meal of the year! Christmas day, our 2 star stopped by to visit and spread a little cheer, he was aghast to see no packages or good food brought over and he went through the roof. 10 min after he left a 2 ton shows up with pallets of Christmas boxes and a hummer full of holiday food! Our 2 star stayed with us the whole evening and made sure our mess was well decorated, and we were stuffed with more then We could stand! We fondly told every one that rotated in about the best Christmas we ever had. I was redeployed to Kandahar 9 more times, and never went with out Christmas cheer after that first one, it was a standing order that all secure areas, and especially those of us on alert 24/7 would get first dibs on any holiday goodies that shipped in, and once we had our share, the rest was sent out to the rest of the base!!!
Beirut , Christmas Day , '83. We were under high alert for some reason , don't really remember why now. So we were pretty much confined to our fighting holes for a few days. They were sending out a jeep to the forward units , ( yep, we were using the old jeeps, before the humvees came out ) anyway , they were sending one out with one of the old MARS telephone comms systems mounted. The CO came by a few holes and picked a few guys , told them to be ready when called , to go back behind the GP tent and make a phone call home. I was one picked , so when my turn came , I ran back to the tent , jumped in the jeep while the guy in back started telling me how to talk to the operator while he dialing the number. Say your sentence , OVER , well , right about the 3rd ring to my parents house , we heard the unmistakeable sound of incoming rounds , the ones were you hear the sound , you know what it is , then the explosion, all before you've even had the chance to flinch with a reaction. Well , there was 2 very loud quick impacts danger close , I just rolled out of the door opening of the jeep , rifle in hand , hauling ass towards my hole . I think as I was rolling out of the jeep, the driver was trying to crank the jeep and get the hell out of there. A short time later , it was said they were 2 105s or 155s , don't remember which , dropped on us by the Lebanese Army , the same Sombitches we were there to support. Somehow they had the wrong coordinates. I just hoped, for months after that , that my Mom didn't pick up the phone and hear those rounds going off over the phone. When I got home , I found out they weren't home anyway , they were at my grandparents. Don't remember what my Christmas meal was that day , but it came out of that old dark brown MRE bag sitting in the bottom of that hole. Semper Fi to all , past , present and future veterans.
I was walking the streets of Nashville one cold Christmas Eve night, walking around downtown trying to spend as much time over the heated gratings as I could to get warm without having the law called to remove me for vagrancy. I had on an expensive leather jacket and cowboy boots, so may have appeared to have been not totally destitute but my guitar had been stolen while I slept in a cheap motel the night before and I had maybe twelve dollars in my pocket to last me until the blood-bank opened back up in two days and not much prospects in earning any more until I could find work in a rent-a-wino place and earn enough bread to buy another one. Musicians in Nashville, at least on the level I was living, didn't have much of an unemployment plan. They made jokes like "What do you call a guitar player without a girlfriend?" The answer was "Homeless" and I suppose I was, at least for a while. My travel bag was parked in a bus station locker and I was feeling pretty depressed. I walked down along the Cumberland River, starring at the water and knowing I was in for a long and not too comfortable night. As I watched the dark water swirl by, I could hear the strings of a guitar playing but it wasn't coming from towards Forth Street but rather, from towards the edge of the river. I walked on down to below the sound and came upon a small group of people around a small fire beneath a bridge. They were warming their hands and singing while an old man played my stolen guitar. They took turns singing songs, some old traditional favorites, some I had never heard before. I took my turn and played one of the songs I had written and someone joined me in harmony during the second line of the chorus and another guitar showed up and a mandolin. Pretty soon, one of the strangest impromptu jam sessions that I have ever participated in was going full swing and more people began showing up. Bottles of spirits were passed around and more than a few joints and even slices of pizza delivered by someone. This went on for a few hours until the police showed up and stood outside our circle for several songs while many in the crowd just seemed to vanish into the dark. They walked over and told us that we couldn't burn a fire there, it was against some kind of ordinance and would have to break our party up. People just walked away, wishing one another a Merry Christmas. I stayed to help extinguish the fire and clean up the mess, Two of the policemen stayed to give me a hand and when I turned to go, one of them asked me"Is this your guitar?" holding up my Old Washburn by the neck. I thanked him, took my guitar and went to the bus station.
Helluva story. Funny how things work out sometimes. Glad to hear things are going better for you now.
