Christmas in a war zone

December 25, 2004

As I sit here in 3rd Battalion’s Charlie Company house at Camp Gunslinger, Elvis is singing, “I’ll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams.”

That seems fitting.

A soldier sweeping the hallways just muttered to himself that he can’t believe it’s Christmas Day.

It’s cold and rainy.

The walkways and parking lots of Camp Gunslinger are pooled with water. Everyone has wet, muddy feet.

And everyone is working.

We had a Christmas dinner of turkey and dressing topped with pumpkin and pecan pie.

And 3rd Battalion put on its own Christmas pageant.

Yes, it’s true.

There was near-beer, singing, a little dancing, a lot of laughing and a gong.

Remember The Gong Show?

It used to have kooky acts and a panel of judges to rate them. Sometimes actors and singers were pulled off stage with a cane. Or a giant gong would clang, abruptly ending the act on stage.

Our show took place in an old Iraqi police station at Camp Gunslinger where Charlie Company lives. There’s a theater in the building, with folding seats and a window high in the back where a projector once flickered.

The projection room is now Charlie Company’s supply room.

As the show rolled on, Sgt. 1st Class Chris Richey and Sgt. 1st Class Danny Gifford, acting 1st sergeant for Charlie Company, held up signs rating each act.

They held up signs like 8.5, or 9.2. Occasionally there would be a sign that said, “Cane.”

At one point, they created their own gong using a ladle and metal platter. Where did they find those? Well, the ladle is usually found in the company’s crock pot, which is known for its bean concoctions. The platter? Who knows.

No one could hear the gong way up there in the projector room, but the signs and gongs were in full view of the acts on stage.

It was funny.

Even with the laughter, however, Christmas passed as quietly as it had come.

It never really felt like Christmas.

I called home, like everyone did, and found Mom and Dad opening presents under the tree. Apparently, my dog was unwrapping presents as well. Crazy? Yep. I figure he’ll be unbearable to live with after a year of such treatment.

Anyway, it seemed odd to hear their Christmas ritual from 7,500 miles away.

Even though I envisioned the Christmas tree covered with the ornaments of my childhood, it didn’t seem real.

It was Christmas, but one unlike any of us has ever known.

Maj. Greg Pelts summed it up like this: “This is a Christmas that I will never forget. My whole life, I’ll never forget it.”

I can’t argue with that.

I’ll never forget singing Christmas carols in a humvee on the way to a raid. I’ll never forget how much a “Combat Mocha” — coffee with hot chocolate mixed in — can take the chill off the night.

And I’ll never forget laughing out loud to crazy skits in an Iraqi police station while sipping on non-alcoholic beer and, out of the corner of my eye, seeing Richey ringing a gong.

Posted by editor at December 25, 2004 05:35 PM