CHRISTMAS 1966:

Jingle bells, Mortar shells,

VC in the grass

Take your fucking Xmas tree

And shove it up your ass!

I remember the Christmas Package from home. It was a mess but a welcome sight nonetheless .It was a medium size box wrapped  in brown paper with that rough hemp string holding it all together. Te box itself looked like it had been crushed under the foot of every Marine who handled it just before they tossed it into the cargo plane that was headed to Phubai.  When I received it I kinda held it for a while thinking that it was prepared by my Mothers hands, lovingly packed and wrapped for the long trip to this place which had caused her more than one nightmare. Other jarheads in my tent gathered around, we shared everything, no one held out on anyone. I cut the string with my K-bar and peeled the paper from the box. I guess the first thing we smelled were the chocolate chip cookies, then the bay rum aftershave which could never be worn, specially in the bush. I never told my Mother of course. Then there was the pint of Canadian Club whiskey she so carefully wrapped in tin foil...She thought if they x-rayed the box it wouldn't show up. Anyway it was the first item to be shared by all. Popcorn balls were next, heavy with molasses a couple cans of Ravioli, She had also sent a package of T-Shirts and skivvies, along with some white socks. Man the socks were the highlight of the package and I looked forward to having the opportunity to put them on, it would be a touch of home as well as warmth.

Christmas Eve rolled around and believe it or not a couple of us decided to go to midnight mass. It was being held in one of the newly erected hard backs or it could have been the officers club. There was a life size cardboard cut out of a leotard clad Ann Margaret tacked to a wall. All and all I guess we thought it would get us in good standing with God, so we went not piously but as a good luck factor more or less. We got in the building and settled down, it was a peaceful feeling almost as though we had a touch of heaven. We sang a few songs, had communion, listened to the priest talk and left to head back to our tent for the night. It was quiet and too damn peaceful.

As we neared the tent there was a pungent smell coming from it. Others were outside shooting the bull waving blankets around. Either some one cut the cheese big time or something was up. As I opened the flap of the tent I was hit with the unmistakable smell of tear gas. While we were wearing church as a good luck token someone rolled a tear gas canister into our tent. It had been entered and the food was gone that was sent. The T-shirts and skivvies were so permeated with the smell of tear gas there was no hope of ever wearing them. The popcorn balls, cookies and anything that was unwrapped was ruined. It sucked big time. I think of the sacrifice made to send it to this godforsaken place and the love and care of a mother and to this day I get pissed. I never told her...It was Christmas, everything was supposed to be perfect on Christmas.

Christmas was everything I expected it could be in Vietnam, every thing it should have been. Tear gassed by our own and ransacked, Semper Fidelis my ass!!

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