I love this holiday. The kids and grandkids and anybody that can’t make the trip during the year will call and ask for gas money so they can come. That’s cool because they are pretty precious to us and they show up even if they had other plans. We start asking them during Thanksgiving if they are going to show up to check and see what was left for them under the tree. My Bride makes it all worthwhile by decorating everything in the house. She has a favorite son who comes by to hang the colored lights around the house. Even Ranger, the Wonder Dog, seems happy with all the hullabaloo with kids to chase and bark at.
Something strange happened this year. Lorraine asked me what Christmas was like in Vietnam. I have never sat down and talked to her about those days. Even though I spent three different Christmases over there. I know I could tell her about anything, I just have never told her because she knows that it wasn’t a happy place, and sometimes it’s hard for me to remember and feel good about it. But since I am thinking back, I want to tell you about something that happened here about a month ago.
I went for a walk with Ranger. I usually walk down Fanoe Road, here in Gonzales. Looking around I happened to notice that the light was just about perfect for a photo opportunity. You might remember that I spent some time taking photos for a few years. So I tied Ranger up and pulled out my indispensable tool, which happened to be my phone. But if you take a lot of shots with a phone, you’ll start getting decent prints after a while, at least I did.
I was walking to the west and the soft light of the sun landing on the Santa Lucia range made me stop and just stare at God’s beauty. That range, and the Gabilans, was also bathed in Heavenly light. Those mountains just brought a lump to my throat. They allowed me to get some truly beautiful shots. Those mountains on both sides of the valley will get developed someday and they will join the other thousand pictures I have shot of the farms and mountains of our beautiful South County Valley. They also lit a fire for me, and maybe I’ll start taking even more photos.
One other thing that touched me was why I stopped and looked at the mountains at this time in my life. It’s because my “A” Camp was set between a mountain and a plain. They looked very much like the photos I took of my permanent camp in Vietnam all those years ago. I started thinking and discovered that in the recesses of my mind, I had thought of my camp when I saw the mountain ranges. On one side a giant mountain and on the other just green jungle as far as you could see.
When I returned home, I thought about the question Lorraine asked, “What was Christmas like in Vietnam?” She doesn’t ask me about Vietnam very often, in fact she always asks if she can. She has been with me when I had some demons working and has been with me until I had exorcised all the bad parts of three tours in Vietnam.
Today I had a flashback to an insertion my company had on the 24th of December. We had been flown by helicopter from our base camp to the base of this big old mountain. I was the company Commander and there were 26 men with me. We had all volunteered to check out the top of this mountain. The Montagnard Village below had been receiving mortar fire from the top of this mountain and it was our turn to hump to the top of the mountain to convince the bad guys that they shouldn’t mess with America’s finest.
It had been misting, as it always seemed to do as we started up. It was also hot, as it always seemed to be. There were no trails up the side of the mountain, and it was so steep that as you pulled yourself up by grabbing bunches of weeds and tree roots, the boots of the guy in front of you were even with your head. Did I mention that the mountain was steep?
We were traveling slowly because all our equipment was rattling and making noise. Then, to remind you that the mountain was really steep, it started to rain. We couldn’t stop as we were very exposed, so I told the guys to dig in. I was afraid that we would be heard, which wasn’t a good thing. I can still close my eyes and see the guys pulling up the grass so they could dig in. Then the sun set and it got really dark fast. We just laid there and wished we were anywhere but there. We couldn’t make any noise or light any fire to warm our rations.
That may have been the worst night I ever spent in that country, but my radio operator and I looked at each other and he said, “Merry Christmas, Sir.” It was Christmas, and even though we were all still wet and cold, there was something about the sun coming up on Christmas Day and no one had been hurt. I felt it was a gift that made things better.
I have had lots of Christmases since that day, but none have touched my heart quite like that Christmas Day. Merry Christmas to all of you my dear readers, and thank you for all your continued support.
God Bless.
