Grandpa’s War – Part 5 -Christmas at Thompson

I’ve told this story before, but it’s one the bears repeating. So here goes.

Christmas day brought our first sandstorm, and it was a very gloomy day for us all. The stove was going full blast, but it barely kept the cold at bay. I think that’s one thing that caught us by surprise. That’s how cold the desert can get. I guess in retrospect, that shouldn’t have been a surprise since there’s really nothing out there to hold the heat.

I was thankful for cold weather gear we’d packed. When we packed, it made no sense to take a parka. But standing out in the desert, it was sure nice to have. I always thought it strange that we were in one of the hottest regions on Earth. And yet, we’re running around like it’s the arctic and we’re wearing winter coats and shivering.

I recall some of the guys cut up a MRE box and drew a Christmas tree on it. I guess they were trying to make it feel like Christmas.

It didn’t help.

Everyone wanted to be anywhere except here. I remember lying back on my bunk and thinking of the Kringle Market in Nuremberg. The Christmas before, I bought a glass of warm Gluhwein and walked around looking at the different booths. I remember it was snowing, and the snowflakes fell into the drink like tiny meteors hissing to their death.

I also thought about my kids and how the toys I’d bought them before leaving Germany. They’d probably arrived busted. It was a sad, lonesome day.

I remembered walking around old town Nuremberg and stopping outside one of the cathedrals. I remember hearing the pipe organ and a choir singing Silent Night. In German of course, but the song I knew well.

I’d never felt so lonely in my life.

Till now. Loneliness and being cut off from the world intensified. None of us wanted to be there and we were all lost in our thoughts and pain of separation.

Christmas dinner was a Chicken and Rice MRE. I gave myself a treat and tossed it on the stove to heat it up. Dust from the sandstorm helped season it.

Lt. Bielecki and SFC Gallizou disappeared for a while. We didn’t think anything of that. That evening they came in, told us to grab our gear and go down to the checkpoint.

So we got dressed, grabbed our rifles, and convoyed down to the checkpoint. We had a nice surprise waiting for us. They had gone into town and purchased soda pop and snack cakes. SSG Honor was a PK (Preacher’s Kid) and had a put together a small service for us. He preached from John 3:16 and talked about how Jesus had taken on flesh and died for our sins.

Afterwards, we had one of the strangest communions I’ve ever been part of. A single slice of MRE bread had been torn apart and put in a canteen. We had a juice container like a kid would have in his lunch. We each got a piece of bread from a canteen cup, and a sip of juice. It was one communion that caught the very essence of what it’s supposed to be. In this case, a bunch of men from all walks of life. We were the far side of the world, united by one thing. That was our faith in Christ. Afterwards, we hugged and talked and laughed. We ate our cakes and drank our sodas like the big happy family we were.

I guess when you’re thousands of miles from home, and away from your family, you enjoy the family you got.

We eventually got a Christmas dinner. . .Two days later! If my fading memory is correct, a few people got sick off it. I recall steering away from the turkey thinking that it smelled funny and couldn’t still be good. I dined on mashed potatoes, stuffing, and dessert.

All things considered, a Christmas I’ll never forget.

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