From the archives, Christmas Presence 2005…
He woke up early, just before sunrise, roughly 0600 hours. He was in his parent’s bed, next to his mom, she had let him sleep there last night because he was so excited about Santa’s impending visit. He climbed down from the high mattress, grabbing onto the soft, down-filled comforter as he stretched his tiny toes to the hardwood floor. He was three. In the dark pre-dawn hours he made his way down stairs to the living room, his eyes sparkling with the reflection of the tree’s colorful holiday lights and his smile broadened by the sight of a pile of brightly wrapped presents beneath the tree. He turned quickly and ran up the stairs to tell his mother, “Mom, mom, wake up, there’s a lot of Christmas downstairs!”
She woke, tired from the late night of wrapping presents and placing them beneath the tree just so. Though her eyes were puffy from hours of crying, she smiled at her little coconut catching his infectious enthusiasm, and pleaded with him to show her what he had found. He complied, eagerly.
He woke up early, 0300 hours local time, put on his boots, splashed some water on his face, and grabbed a cup of coffee. “Merry Christmas sergeant,” the soldier/cook in the mess tent said. “Merry Christmas Jones,” he replied, sipping the steaming hot coffee. It was time to make his rounds, checking the soldiers on the perimeter. The desert air was cold and crisp, the sky brilliant with sparkling stars. Dressed in his full battle rattle and carrying his M4 carbine, he thought about the irony of spending Christmas in this part of the world, and longed to see the look on his young son’s face as he opened Santa’s gifts.
They opened presents and took pictures and hugged and laughed and then mother and son cried, just a little, tightly holding dad’s picture wishing he could’ve been home for Christmas.
He finished his rounds, checking on his soldiers then grabbed a bag of toy beanie babies and hard candies making his way to the front gate of the FOB where he handed out the goodies to the children of the nearby town. His wife and son had sent the gifts last week so that he could play Santa and maybe bring a little joy to the kids in Iraq. He did. He wiped away a couple of tears as he watched the smiling children playing with their toys and savoring their candies.
They waited by the phone all day, carrying the cordless with them out front as he rode his new bicycle on the sidewalk for the first time. It finally rang in the late afternoon, it was daddy calling from Iraq. They all laughed and cried and shared twenty minutes of Christmas together over the phone. It was the best twenty minutes of their day.
Christmas presence from a soldier and his family. Sgt Hook out.
Posted by Hook @ 1437 zulu | | Permalink
This post is filed under: Homefront & The Soldier
