Two years ago, I spent Christmas in Baghdad with the men of my infantry platoon. That Christmas was both the worst and the best one I have ever had.
On Christmas Eve 2003, my men and I executed a massive “cordon and search” operation just north of the city. We trekked in line under the cover of darkness with “Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer” booming loudly from the top of the PsyOps trucks. It was surreal. As we moved toward our target block, the Brigade Sergeant Major rode ahead of us in an un-armored Humvee. An IED (improvised explosive device) detonated to the right side of his vehicle--about 100 meters in front of my platoon. The ground shook, and the Sergeant Major was killed. I’ll be thinking about that this Christmas when people complain about the inconvenience of the transit strike.
It was also Christmas Eve 2003 that we crammed the entire platoon of 38 men into a tiny room inside our FOB (forward operating base) to “celebrate.” Our platoon sergeant, SFC Jensen, gave every soldier a surprise gift package that his wife had sent from back home. Every single guy got a CD, some candy and some other goodies. It was a nice piece of home that helped us try to forget where we were. My dad sent a bottle of whisky that we shared as soldiers, and as friends. Each man got only one swallow, but it was damn good. We choked back tears, shared jokes and kept each other sane. With our families 7,000 miles away, we were all we had. That Christmas, we shared a bond that only soldiers can truly understand.
That is my holiday memory. I asked a few of our vets from IAVA (http://www.iava.org/index.php) to share theirs. Here they are:
Larry Provost, an Army Reserves Civil Affairs officer, recently returned from tours in Iraq and Afghanistan: On Christmas day in Afghanistan we had a local shura (Council) meeting and it was a normal workday. It was also bittersweet as we had lost an 82d trooper four days previous. In Iraq, I was turned away from chow because we had a VIP who came, a General, and for the first time we could not wear PT (physical training) clothes to chow.
Mike Zacchea, Marine Reservist, recently returned from Iraq: Unfortunately, I don't have any nice Christmas memories. We had just gotten back from Fallujah, where several of our Iraqi battalion members were murdered. We were all exhausted and had very little Christmas cheer. The civilian contractors in the dining facility tried to bring some Christmas cheer, and wore Christmas elf costumes which I couldn't stand. I couldn't stand to hear Christmas music either. We advisors scrounged a Christmas tree and did a secret gift exchange. I remember some fat guy decided to dress himself in a Santa outfit and walk around trying to spread Christmas cheer. I told him to go to hell.
Jeremy Lewis, Air National Guardsman, who spent a year in Iraq: Being in the military for over 20 years, I spent a lot of Christmas holidays away from "Kith & Kin." There was a drunken Christmas spent in Athens. And one in Bosnia, where at least a white Christmas was had. And even one at sea. The Christmas in Iraq was not really any different than any other away from home. There were missions to be done, and patrols to be sent out. Just because it is Christmas doesn't mean that the war stops. By Christmas we had moved to a safer location, where the mortars did not fall.
But we still had the same MSR (Main Supply Route) to patrol, the same relay site to operate. And the same checkpoints to do. We lived in heated tents, after living in an open GP Medium (tent) for the past 9 months, this was a good deal. Of course this also meant that there were 5 people who could never agree. It was too hot, or too cold in the tent. Which led to us always adjusting the thermostat. And the usual altercations thereafter. In a open GP Medium, you all can agree that it is too hot, or too cold. Misery proved to be the great equalizer. We had a little Christmas tree. Kind of a "Charlie Brown special." There were ornaments that had been sent to us, that hung on the tree. Including a Homer Simpson that my son sent to me. The outside of our tent was festooned with garland, and ornaments as well. One of my friends had a wife that had a bunch of friends that all sent us gifts.
Actually, they sent them not to just our squad, but rather to our entire platoon. So, in an empty bunk we had a lot of presents that were waiting to be claimed. You weren't allowed to rifle through them, you just took your best shot. I made out ok, I got a Mach 3 razor, Edge Gel, and 5 blades. Some people got much worse. No one got any booze though. If we had 30 or so nurses, we would have gotten a lot of better presents I imagine. I did have a friend who was a nurse, in WV, and she raised up a ton of Slim Jims, and other goodies, and reading materials for us. That package was kept only in our tent. For obvious reasons. Ok, mainly because we were selfish.
At the holiday dinner, provided by KBR (Kellogg, Brown & Root), there was a lot of food. And a long line. For some reason, the US Army cooks that ran the DFAC (mess hall) were not allowed to cook our meal, even though they all wanted to be the ones to cook it. In the end, the contractor-cooks apologized to everyone about the food. It was a nice thought that these people tried to take care of the troops. But KBR must have a pretty strong union.
Of course for us this was a welcome day off. We watched movies in the tent, and went online, and things like that. Just a general day to goof off. All in all, it was a good holiday, wrapped up with a nice Cuban Monte Cristo, and a Christmas cheer. Thanks to the ingenuity of one of our NCOs' (non-commissioned officers). The next day, life went back to normal. I think of that Christmas, away from home. It doesn't seem so bad now. Come to think of it, it wasn't so bad then. And to always remember it, Homer is hanging on my tree today.