Christmas

It is the best time of the year. I was walking young Lex to bed the other night (Get this, he likes to walk to bed backward while standing on top of dad’s shoes, holding hands. I don’t get it.) and he asked what I liked best about Christmas. The music, I said. How about you? He thought hard, trying to think of something other than presents and settled on cookies. But I remember the anticipation and wonder at what kind of goodies mom and dad (mostly mom) might have found and wrapped up under the tree. For kids, it’s the presents stupid.

I don’t recall when all that changed. But one of most memorable Christmases was when I volunteered to take the Officer of the Day Duty at Las Pulgas, Camp Pendleton, CA. I was single and new to the battalion. So I volunteered for duty Christmas day and got good-guy points for jumping on a hand grenade that the battalion adjutant was probably going to throw me on anyway.

I ate breakfast in a near empty chow hall. Anyone who complains about chow in the service hasn’t been to a Marine Corps chow hall for breakfast. It’s great, and in the day, cost about $.70 half that if you’re on duty and are required to eat there. The chow hall was decorated and Christmas music was playing. I noticed more officers and senior staff NCOs than usual milling around wishing everyone a Merry Christmas. Later, the battalion commander himself arrived at the duty hut with plate of cookies “from the wife” and hearty Merry Christmas for all of “his” duty personnel.

At lunch the chow hall was more deserted than during breakfast. I asked the mess chief were everyone went. “Happens every year. The staff NCOs show up at breakfast scour the chow hall and the barracks to find out who’s left behind. They round ‘em up and take ‘em home. They’ll all spend the day watching TV, having a few beers, eat dinner about four in the afternoon and be back here before we close to eat dinner again.”

I was making the mandatory tour of the camp that must be conducted between 12 pm. and 2 am. I saw a lone figure smoking a cigarette on the third story catwalk of the barracks. He must be contemplating suicide I thought. I asked him if everything was OK. “Oh, hell yes sir. I get to go on leave today. The family’s holding Christmas for me. I’ll be home for dinner.” It is the best time of the year.