Christmas and Sandbags

“What’s that, Sarge; it’s Christmas?”

“Yeah, Dummy – don’t you see the tree?”

“Yeah, sure, I can see it, Sarge, but that

Don’t make it Christmas to me.”

It’s hot, and it’s humid, and it smells – 

not at all like Christmas at home – the

 faint aroma of nuoc mam and fields

fertilized with human dung perfumes

the pungent air.

“It’s gonna take more than a turkey

Dinner and a lousy one day truce

To make it seem like Christmas to me,

Not even if that was a ten foot spruce!”

Sarge shifts his position against the sand

bags and stretches lazily. He eyes the

grumpy young man sitting beside him,

then remarks with faint, deliberate

amusement:

“Getting’ a little homesick kid? Want to

Take a seat on ol’ Sarge’s knee?”

“That  won’t help, you dirty old man;

It’s here-sickness that’s botherin’ me!”

Sarge chuckles gently and takes a swig

from the slightly rusty, still cool can of

beer he’s holding. He reaches down,

fishes out another can and passes it to

his moody companion.

“Aw, here, have another beer or two, and

 fire up that old guitar;

We’ll sing some carols, and after a few,

You might even see a star.”

Rob takes the beer. “Besides, you’re too

skinny and ugly to be Santa,” he says

with a slow, reluctant grin, his funk

beginning to fade a little. He reaches for

his guitar as the other men move closer.

Rob gently strums a chord or two,

Then quietly begins to play;

The others listen silently for a while

In the gathering dusk of the day.

High above them, in the fading light,

a bright star moves across the sky. It’s

actually a satellite, but its appearance at

that particular moment seems more than

appropriate. The men begin to sing:

“Silent, night, Holy Night,

All is calm all is bright;

Round yon Virgin, Mother and Child

Holy Infant so tender and mild,

Sleep in heavenly Peace…”

It’s nowhere near heavenly, but for the

moment it is, just now for them, peace

enough. They’ll settle for it. Not exactly

a miracle, but it’ll have to do.

© Thurman P. Woodfork

18 December 2008