By Robert Willmann
A short comedy sketch is a staple on New Year's Eve in Germany, featuring Miss Sophie and James the butler. The introduction is in German and the skit is in English. Happy New Year to All, and fireworks may well extend to and beyond the 6th of January--
https://www.ndr.de/fernsehen/Dinner-for-One-Das-Original,dinnerforone191.html
"Near-complete surprise was achieved by a combination of Allied overconfidence, preoccupation with Allied offensive plans, and poor aerial reconnaissance. The Germans attacked a weakly defended section of the Allied line, taking advantage of heavily overcast weather conditions, which grounded the Allies' overwhelmingly superior air forces. Fierce resistance on the northern shoulder of the offensive around Elsenborn Ridgeand in the south around Bastogne blocked German access to key roads to the northwest and west that they counted on for success. Columns of armor and infantry that were supposed to advance along parallel routes found themselves on the same roads. This and terrain that favored the defenders threw the German advance behind schedule and allowed the Allies to reinforce the thinly placed troops. Improved weather conditions permitted air attacks on German forces and supply lines, which sealed the failure of the offensive. In the wake of the defeat, many experienced German units were left severely depleted of men and equipment, as survivors retreated to the defenses of the Siegfried Line." wiki
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Long ago and far away I served with a man named Bill Harris. This was in Turkey in a big NATO headquarters. Harris was a full colonel and a WW2 paratrooper. I was a very young major just back from Vietnam.
Bill was from Missouri, had attended the University of Missouri and had left that institution a year before the war when he ran out of money. He joined the pre-WW2 US Army and had reached the rank of sergeant before the Japanese attacked the fleet at Pearl Harbor.
He spent a few months improving the training of National Guard troops as they mobilized for war and then was sent to the Infantry Officer Candidate school at Fort Benning, Georgia. To his surprise he was assigned to the emerging paratroop force at graduation. He served with the 505th Parachute Infantry Regiment of the 82nd Airborne Division throughout the war in Europe.
Bill jumped into; Sicily and Salerno in Italy, Normandy and Holland with the 505th Regiment. He was the only man I ever saw who had four stars embedded in his parachute badge, one for each of his combat jumps. At the end of the Market Garden operation in Holland the 82nd Division was pulled back to a rest and training area outside Paris. There, the division built itself a camp and settled down to wait for spring and an anticipated jump across the Rhine. By that time, Bill Harris was a major and the chief operations staff officer (S-3) of the 505th.
Christmas approached and the division prepared to party. Officers' Class A uniforms were brought over from storage in England so that they would look resplendent for an anticipated grand Christmas gala to be held a few days before the holiday. The front was far to the east and the intelligence people thought the Germans would be inactive for a while, certainly long enough for the 82nd to celebrate. The division's engineers built an amphitheater made of canvas and wood in which to hold the officers' party. The structure had concentric circular platforms on which tables for four were placed at higher and higher levels as one moved away from the center. In the very center of the big tent was a dance floor. The division's band combined forces with part of the Air Corps' Glenn Miller Orchestra to provide music. "Chattanooga Choo Choo" and "American Patrol" sounded through the wintry night for the party. Women and booze were pre-requisites for such an event. Paris was an easy source for the liquor. Army nurses, Red Cross girls and French women from the city were invited and eagerly accepted.
Continue reading "Bill Harris, The Bulge and Christmas 1944" »
Merry Christmas to you, every one. pat
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V7uiqRCW6I8&list=PL27FEC85CEED5C0BB&index=69&app=desktop
"When we've been there ten thousand years,
Bright shining as the sun,
We've no less days to sing God's praise,
Than when we first begun."
Amazing Grace
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lhc7MEYY-Ho&feature=fvwrel
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“Twas in the moon of wintertime, when all the birds had fled,
That God the Lord of all the earth sent angel choirs instead
Before their light the stars grew dim
and wandering hunters heard the hymn
Within a lodge of broken bark, the tender babe was found.
A ragged robe of rabbit skin enwrapped his beauty round;
But as the hunter braves drew nigh,
the angel song rang loud and high
The earliest moon of wintertime is not so round and fair,
As was the ring of glory on the helpless infant there.
The chiefs from far before him knelt
with gifts of fox and beaver pelt
O, children of the forest free, the angel song is true.
The holy child of earth and heav’n is born today for you.
Come kneel before the radiant boy,
Who brings you beauty, peace and joy.
Jean de Brebeuf, S.J. Martyr and Author of
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Christmas in Vietnam.
"The war went on in the central highlands. At Christmas time I decided to hold a detachment Christmas party. I mentioned this to the battalion commander of 3/525, MI Group, LTC Paul Langford during a visit by Langford to Song Be. As we discussed this, a five gallon water jug of home made “hootch” bubbled happily in a corner of my office under the beneficent warmth of an electric light. Pineapple juice, brewer’s yeast and a daily “feeding” of sugar were creating something within that obviously was alive. The application of sugar invariably produced a tempest in the bottle. The men began to think of it as a pet.
Langford ignored the bottle. “Are you going to leave someone to man each station?” he asked. “That’s all right then,” he said when assured. “Let’s not tell Group. They already think you and I are nuts.” I bought cases of Mumm’s Cordon Rouge and other goodies in Saigon, and on the appointed day mysterious personages began to arrive from all over the Border on Air America’s scheduled service. All in all, there were about twenty party goers. The province senior advisor, LTC Ray Suarez and the local CIA boss attended. There was much singing of Christmas carols, as well as a ham, a turkey and such cooked by the kitchen in the Special Forces "B" camp in town. The bald headed, middle aged light weapons man in the team was also mess sergeant. He had been a feldwebel in the Grossdeutschland and later an adjutant-chef in the 2nd REI. Like most of the men in that B Team he felt sorry for me in my exile from SF. He and several others from the B Team were at the party.
The guests sang the "Huron Carol" (in English) to humor me.
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“For every boot that tramped in battle,
every cloak rolled in blood,
will be burned as fuel for flames.
For a child is born to us, a son is given...”
Isaiah, 9:1-3, 5-6
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At midnight, celebration was interrupted by the sound of machine gun fire in the distance. The revelers trooped outside to see if they were going to have to fight on Christmas Eve. There were hard words concerning the ancestry of the enemy. Across the wire, across the outpost line, across the valley of no-man’s land were the crests occupied habitually by the “opposition.” From these heights there rose a stream of green, Soviet made “tracer.” The celebrants contemplated this for a minute, and then Suarez suggested a reply. An M-60 machine gun emerged from the house, and while one man fired red tracer into the air, another held the bipod above his head and another fed the gun its belted ammunition. The streams of bullets crossed in the black, star-studded sky. The VC gun fell silent, as did the American. There was a hush as warriors waited for some sign that the hope of common humanity yet lived. The VC fire resumed. Now there were three guns shooting green stars into the blackness. The MI men’s gun chattered merrily, spilling a river of shell casings into the street. Red and green filled the night. "
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Every Christmas I post this excerpt from an autobiographical sketch I wrote once. This incident is reminiscent of the legendary football game in no man's land in 1914. The men at the party were of the Third Combat Battalion, 525th Military Intelligence Group, MACV CORDS Advisory Team 94, the CIA and the 5th Special Forces Group. The place was Song Be, Phuoc Long Province. It was 1968.
There is a statue in Charlottesville, Virginia. On the pediment is inscribed, "Love makes memory eternal." That once was true.
The party-goers are long gone. Some never saw another Christmas. Some died a couple of months later when the men across the way nearly took the town.
They tried for what seemed an eternity but was actually less than a week. We killed six hundred of them in repelling their valiant effort. Some died around my house and in the street in front of my gate. We buried four hundred bodies found in front of and in our (US and Vietnamese) positions. The Second Brigade of the First Cavalry Division was ordered into the fight halfway through the battle. Without them the VC would have killed or captured us all. PW survivors told us how many the enemy lost. They were of the 211th, 212th and 165th VC battalions under VC Military Region 10. By that time these units were mostly North Vietnamese in their manning. They were "foemen worthy of our steel."
God rest all these worthy gentlemen. pl
I bought this one in Bethlehem from the Palestinian Christian who carved it. God bless you every one. pl
Winter Quarters
(Orange, Virginia)
"The seemingly endless time of cold darkness crept past in a succession of grey days and long nights.
In its camps, the Army of Northern Virginia once again experienced the religious fervor that came to them when they were not busy. At such times, men of all faiths sought solace in prayer and gathered in revival meetings where many found the inner peace that war denied them.
Families came to the winter camps to spend the season with their men. Most boarded with local families. Bearded warriors held in their arms for the first time tiny folk who had not yet been seen. The children brought joy to them all, but in the evenings the soldiers brooded over their families, their thoughts unreadable in the light of the fireplaces.
Amateur theatrical productions were a natural gift of this army, something so familiar from home that the men expected them. Wooden theaters sprang up in the snow and frost caked mud. These were crude structures of field sawn boards, each with its glowing pot bellied iron stove. The programs were filled with familiar plays, but some of them were only a year or so old in London or New York. One of these was entitled "Our American Cousin."
Balthazar was fond of the theater. At school in England he had been prominent in Christmas pantomime and Shakespeare alike. Now, he did all a commander properly could to interest his men in this activity, thinking it a healthy diversion from the boredom of the winter. The Stephen Foster songs he had heard in Richmond appeared on the boards as renditions by his battalion chorus. Soldiers' singing groups were a tradition in the French Army. He followed the custom in America. The foreigners in the battalion made up the backbone of the soloists and Joseph White played the piano to accompany. His skill was yet another of Clotilde Devereux's gifts to the Whites. Balthazar played the role of Falstaff in a Second Corps' officers’ production of "The Merry Wives of Windsor." His English accent and baritone were praised around sentry fires for weeks after the play's run.
Continue reading ""Winter Quarters" 1863-1864 Pat Lang ( from Death Piled Hard)" »
Some pictures from a Karachi newspaper on a rally and procession on Karachi's main street — as part of the Xmas celebrations by the Christian community (in which many local Muslims join). There are more pictures in the paper (at this link).
On this day in 1776, General Washington led his cold, ill fed and ill equipped army across the Delaware River to attack and decisively defeat the Hessian garrison at Trenton, New Jersey. It was a morning of bloody footprints in the snow and supreme audacity.
My son captioned the image above after we joked about the idea. Some may find this inappropriate black humor, but we like it. There are a number of inaccuracies. The Hessians were not sleeping off a night of holiday merriment. They were stone cold sober. Washington crossed the Delaware in the dead of the night, not in the light of dawn. That particular flag was not created until six months after the battle. Nevertheless, I like it. It stands for the Army that I remember and love. The Army of the FIDO attitude. (Look it up if you don't understand.) This is the Army that Churchill aptly described when he said, "We sleep safely at night because rough men stand ready to visit violence on those who would harm us."
TTG
It was snowing heavily in Alexandria, Virginia when I first wrote this. The moment reminded me of the time in the '80s when I was in Jerusalem and Amman on government business at Christmas time. It had snowed heavily there as well, an unusual but not unknown event. People were trying to cope with the white, slippery stuff. In Amman I was staying at a very modern hotel with a large circular atrium that went way up into the distant heights surrounded by the balconies that led to bedrooms. The coffee shop was tiered around the well of the atrium. I think the hotel was the Marriott. I arrived at night. In the morning I went down to the lobby to meet the Jordanian Army driver who was to take me to army headquarters. An enormous, decorated Christmas tree filled the atrium. It must have been fifty feet tall. It looked a lot like the tree in the picture. After looking at it for a bit I went to the Qiyada. Among the people I met with there was His Highness, Field Marshal Zeid bin Shaker, Commander in Chief of the Jordanian Army (al-jaysh al-'arabi). When we had finished our business, I told him what I had seen in the hotel. He said he must see it. We got into his car and drove back to the hotel so that he could.
The hotel had covered the tree with star shaped ornaments each inscribed with the name of one of its staff. There were stars with names of all kinds. There were; Marys, Gunters, Muhammads, Seans, Josephs, Ahmads, 'Issas, Pierres, Ivans, Abdullahs, Muhsins, etc. There were hundreds of names.
The prince and I sat at the foot of the tree, drank coffee and chatted. He sent for the manager of the hotel to tell him what a good idea the tree was. His bedouin soldier driver sat a couple of tables away staring at the tree.
Zeid bin Shaker was one of nature's noblemen. He was also an 'Alid, a descendent of the Prophet, a Hashemite cousin of King Hussein, and a Muslim gentleman.
God rest you, merry gentleman. pl
“He’s a plasterer,” we used to joke, “unless he’s plastered.” The subject of our youthful mirth was a guy named “Joe.” I’m not sure I ever knew his other name. Some called him “wino Joe.” He was a fixture in the area around our little town. He had a two-wheeled wagon, a tall thing that we often saw mounded up with bottles. Joe scoured the highways for empty bottles. The two-cent deposits added up, he said, and often enough for his needs, I guess, he was able to buy a bottle of wine with the proceeds.
I think the stuff might have been called “Golden Pheasant.” It came in flat-sided pint bottles, and I recall seeing Joe hold a full one up to the rising sun one morning. “Breakfast,” he said appreciatively.
There were times, however, when the supply of empty pop bottles was simply insufficient. In those times Joe fell back on plastering. My dad said he was an artisan. I never knew exactly what he meant, but one night late Joe came to do a job and he was so drunk my dad had to hold him on the ladder. The house didn’t have sheetrock then, but rather real plaster with thin, hand-hewn strips of lath behind the uneven, discolored plaster. Sometimes when big chunks fell off we were able to extract long strips of yellowed newsprint with dates from the early 1870s.
When Joe finished the job my dad took out a ten-dollar bill and Joe said, “Nope. That is the ten-dollar bill you loaned me last week. I’m payin’ you back.” My dad shrugged and folded the bill into his pocket.
The next morning Joe was back. He had a sheepish look and he said, “I’d kinda like to look at the job I did last night, I might have had a skinful.”
My dad ushered him inside and they checked the work. I stood in the back of the room and watched. Joe finally turned around, He had an embarrassed smile, “Yeh, that don’t look half bad. Yuh know that ten-dollar bill? I wonder if I could borrow that again?”
"La chorale des orphelines de la Fondation de l’Imam Moussa al-Sadr venue chanter Noel à l’église Saint-Elie de Beyrouth en est la parfaite illustration. Ce spectacle, a priori anodin, peut représenter un exemple à suivre pour les autres pays, notamment en Europe, où malgré les vaines tentatives de formatage artificiel des esprits, les uns et les autres vivent dans une méfiance réciproque sans cesse grandissante." claudeelkhal blogspot
http://claudeelkhal.blogspot.com/2016/12/le-liban-cest-ca-aussi-une-chorale.html?
"Wisht somebody would tell me there's a Santa Claus."
From all of us to all of you, wherever you are. Merry Christmas.
Pat Lang
The enchanting image of the Christmas crèche, so dear to the Christian people, never ceases to arouse amazement and wonder. The depiction of Jesus’ birth is itself a simple and joyful proclamation of the mystery of the Incarnation of the Son of God. The nativity scene is like a living Gospel rising up from the pages of sacred Scripture. As we contemplate the Christmas story, we are invited to set out on a spiritual journey, drawn by the humility of the God who became man in order to encounter every man and woman. We come to realize that so great is his love for us that he became one of us, so that we in turn might become one with him.
With this Letter, I wish to encourage the beautiful family tradition of preparing the nativity scene in the days before Christmas, but also the custom of setting it up in the workplace, in schools, hospitals, prisons and town squares. Great imagination and creativity is always shown in employing the most diverse materials to create small masterpieces of beauty. As children, we learn from our parents and grandparents to carry on this joyful tradition, which encapsulates a wealth of popular piety. It is my hope that this custom will never be lost and that, wherever it has fallen into disuse, it can be rediscovered and revived. (Pope Francis)
—————
Pope Francis issued this apostolic letter during his recent visit to Greccio, the site of the first nativity scene or Christmas crèche. I never knew that Saint Francis was the creator behind this Christian phenomenon. Francis, the Pope not the Saint, goes on to explain the meanings behind the symbology and the proper place of the nativity scene in the faith and lives of Roman Catholics. You don’t have to be “raised by Jesuits” to appreciate this letter. It is far more a historical and anthropological study than an evangelical sermon… unless you’re looking for an evangelical sermon. Enjoy.
I was attracted to this letter because the nativity scene was part of every Catholic house at Christmas I ever entered in my life. My house is no different. Every year I set up the same Goebel figures that I set up for SWMBO’s and my first Christmas in our own house in Mililani Town, Hawaii. I think we bought the set at the Pearl Harbor Base Exchange. It wasn’t all that expensive and we’ve only added the two camels and a sheep in all these years. We like it and it serves to remind us every day of the season of the meaning of Christmas to Christians.
When I was growing up, my family would make at least one trip to downtown Waterbury, Connecticut to see the Christmas decorations and lights. One of the highlights was the massive Christmas crèche set on the city green. It included elaborate cave and village scenes with scores of figurines. Very impressive and without a hint of controversy in the late 50s and 60s. Waterbury went well beyond the Christmas crèche as evidenced in this story of a unique landmark of the 50s, 60s and 70s.
Merry Christmas to all,
TTG
By Robert Willmann
As I was working on a law-related item for this website about two cases set before the U.S. Supreme Court the week of 3 December 2017, and was trying to figure out how to do a formal posting, I was "overtaken by events", as is said at the State Department. The Judiciary Committee of the U.S. House of Represetatives held hearings with witnesses from the FBI and Department of Justice; two FBI employees as extramarital lovebirds -- or lustbirds, as the case may be -- were moved out of the group of Special Counsel Robert Mueller, which is supposed to investigate the Russian government's alleged "interference" in the 2016 presidential election; the chief in-house lawyer at the FBI, James Baker, is to be reassigned; Jerrold Nadler (Democrat, 10th District, in New York City) takes the place of the retired John Conyers as the ranking member of the House Judiciary Committee; and FBI Deputy Director Andrew McCabe (the number 2 person) is going to "retire early" around March 2018, when he can then receive full retirement benefits.
Fortunately, Christmas is here, as its message of Hope and Peace, and the international language of music, transcend "The Law" of governments.
The Christmas Truce of 1914, during World War 1, demonstrated the message. One hundred years later, a resolution was introduced in the U.S. House of Representatives, H.Res. 781, to commemorate that brief truce [1]. Unlike the fighting men -- who had a short, but real, truce -- the politicians sent the resolution to the "House Committee on Foreign Affairs", where it languished and stalled. Nevertheless, it was announced on the floor of the House, and brief remarks were placed into the Congressional Record on 11 December 2014 by its sponsor, Joseph Crowley (Democrat, 14th District, New York), who was joined by only two co-sponsors--
The music of Christmas strengthens the message, and its range from classical and choral to modern is performed today. Stille Nacht (Silent Night)--
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XJ3kyGQKoq8
An original art form of the U.S.A. is jazz music, established early on by those wanting freedom and which could be expressed through its improvisation. Gaining legitimacy over the years, it is now fully developed and its reach is imaginative. The first college jazz education program in the U.S. was started not in New York or Los Angeles, but in 1947 in Denton, Texas, at North Texas State University, now called the University of North Texas (UNT). When at that time they went to the Texas State College Board of Trustees in Austin to get the program approved and funded, some members balked at the prospect of a "Dance Band Program" being taught to and among young college students. The trustees finally authorized the program after the school said it would be called a "laboratory band", which gave the skittish board cover with some of the public [2]. The name has stuck, and the nine jazz bands in the program today are each called a "Lab Band", identified by the time of day the band has class and rehearses. The most accomplished one is the One O'Clock Lab Band, which meets at 1:00 p.m.
There are numerous fine music schools in the U.S. If anyone has a son or daughter interested in studying any type of music for any purpose, and who is serious about it, making a trip to Denton to the UNT to see the program first hand would be worthwhile [3].
Jay Saunders, an accomplished trumpet player, was interim director of the One O'Clock Lab band in 2014-2015 and 2015-2016 before retiring from that job--
https://jazz.unt.edu/saunders-bio
Early in his career, he played with the U.S. Army Field Band Studio Band, which is now called the Jazz Ambassadors [4]. The U.S. Army Field band has four performing groups: The Concert Band, The Soldiers' Chorus, the Jazz Ambassadors, and the Six-String Soldiers. To warm things up a little, here are the Jazz Ambassadors in concert on 3 April 2017, performing Bye Bye Blackbird, with their vocalist, Alexis Cole. She joined the Army to get the job, and sang from 2009-2015, re-enlisting twice. She sang with the group some in 2017 since at that time it was looking for but did not yet have a vocalist--
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kg0-7CwetH0
At a 2014 Christmas concert, the UNT One O'Clock Lab Band of college students, directed by Jay Saunders, took the light, modern song Sleigh Ride, which seems to be on every tape of vaseline elevator music played in stores at Christmas, and dressed it up along with a break into a jazz inprovisational structure, for a nice, new look [5]--
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cSMs_t51jM4
Then, at that same concert, joined by the UNT Jazz Singers, the band performs the traditional choral song, Angels We Have Heard On High, as a jazz arrangement, up-tempo and a little tricky [6]--
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hXK7WISd5Nk
May you have a Blessed and Merry Christmas!
Continue reading "The Message and Music of Christmas Transcend The Law." »
"He who works with his hands is a laborer. He who works with his hands and his head is a craftsman. He who works with his hands and his head and his heart is an artist." - Saint Francis of Assisi
******************
Last year I introduced a series of videos where Master Shipwright Louis Sauzedde built a traditional work skiff in his Rhode Island workshop. I quoted Saint Francis then and it is appropriate to do so again. This year Lou designs and builds a sport dory of his own design using both traditional and innovative techniques and materials. I hope many of you find the series as entertaining and enlightening as I do.
In the first video Lou examines several types of dories and explores the mathematics of the designs. This reminded me of the programs supported by the Alexandria Seaport Foundation. Here former director Joe Youcha started an apprenticeship program for “at risk” youth to teach mathematics through building boats. Joe is now the director of the Building to Teach organization where he is expanding his concepts nationwide.
I believe Saint Francis would recognize the artistry of Lou and Joe with appreciation and admiration. May you all enjoy Lou’s videos in the same light. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all my fellow committeemen
TTG
This was always sung at Midnight Mass in Sanford, Maine when I was a boy. The man who sang it had an even more haunting voice. pl
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F_Q7AFys6bA
pl
A video is worth a thousand words.
Well, pilgrims, this is the Aziziya neighborhood in West Aleppo. It is a very multi-confessional district. I particularly like the brass band in Santa suits. They appear to be playing the Syrian National Anthem. Note the two comely teen aged girl scouts standing near the band. The display of flags is interesting; Syria, Russia, Hizbullah. One of our German correspondents on SST informed us the other day that there are now some Christian members of Hizbullah, the Lebanese Shia militia. This would make sense because after the 2006 war against Israel Hizbullah assigned priority of its own reconstruction money to Christians in south Lebanon. The tree has a Lebanese cedar emblem on it so I suppose it came from there. The MSM portrays Aleppo as a smoking ruin. What do you say about this, Joe? pl
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rYiJF5OCgFQ https://
pl
Be careful this Holiday Season. Pay attention to your surroundings. Our jihadi enemies will have found this period of particular devotion among Christians to be a tempting target.
Be careful! pl
My sister Maureen wrote from her paradise on the central California coast to gift us with this. pl
http://turcopolier.typepad.com/the_athenaeum/2011/12/berties-christmas-eve-saki.html
Okay. I couldn't resist. It's been bouncing around my head since I set up the nativity this year. Besides, my younger son works for the ad agency that handles Gieco. He's pretty much responsible for their dancing caveman ads. It runs in the family.
I fervantly hope this brings a smile to all. I wish Colonel Lang, his family and the entire SST committee of correspondence a Merry Christmas and the peace and joy of the season.
TTG
Christmas Eve Radio Reading: Frederick Forsyth's "The Shepherd"
Pastor Nazir Alam smiles as he
talks to a journalist at the church
This Christmas, pastor Nazir Alam will stoke up a fire, lay a fresh cloth on the altar and welcome parishioners as they arrive at his church in Waziristan, a Pakistani tribal area known as an al-Qaeda haven.
"The lights are all up, and the choir boys are ready. The church is looking its best," said 60-year-old Alam, a former missionary who has celebrated his last ten Christmases there. "There's not much left to do but to pray and rejoice."
Outsiders might see little cause for joy. Pakistan is the sixth most dangerous country in the world for minorities, says London-based watchdog Minority Rights Group International. Christians, Shiite Muslims and Ahmadis are victims of a rising tide of deadly attacks.
But Alam's church, and the homes of most of his 200 parishioners, are nestled inside a Pakistani army base in South Waziristan, a mountainous region that was a hotbed of militancy until a military offensive in 2009.
"When the US went into Kabul, things became bad for everyone. But we are safe here. The army protects us," says Shaan Masih, who helps clean the church and likes to play the drums and sing carols.
Continue reading "Pakistan's loneliest church celebrates Christmas in Taliban country" »
"Wartime Christmas" by Paul E. Akers, Free Lance-Star opinion page editor, Fredericksburg, Virginia
Christmas is a time, the songs say, when hearts long for home. It is so during peacetime; how much more it must be for soldiers far away from their loved ones and all the comforts of hearth and home. Often, poignant letters open windows into their hearts. One hundred forty-nine years ago, a young man from South Carolina named Tally Simpson penned these words:
Camp near Fred'burg, Dec 25th, 1862, My dear Sister
This is Christmas Day. The sun shines feebly through a thin cloud, the air is mild and pleasant, [and] a gentle breeze is making music through the leaves of at the lofty pines that stand near our bivouac. All is quiet and still, and that very stillness recalls some sad and painful thoughts…. Will another Christmas roll around and find us all wintering in in camp? Oh! That peace may be restored to our young, but dearly beloved country and that we may all meet again in happiness.
I have often read of sacked and pillaged towns in ancient history, but never, till I saw Fredericksburg, did I fully realize what one was. The houses, especially those on the river, are riddled with shell and ball. The stores have been broken open and deprived of every thing that was worth a shilling…. Such a wreck and ruin I never wish to see again…. Yet notwithstanding all this, the few citizens who are now in town seem to be cheerful and perfectly resigned. Such true patriots are seldom found. This will ever be a noted place in history.
Tally Simpson was killed at the battle of Chickamauga in 1863; his descendent Edward W. Simpson Jr. found his letters along with those of his brother, Dick, in an old chest and transcribed them. They're published in a book aptly titled "Far, Far From Home," edited by Guy R. Everson and Edward W. Simpson Jr. (Oxford University Press). How grateful we are for the record of their thoughts--and for the sacrifice of all soldiers who have spent their Christmases far, far, from home.
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This editorial, along with the Thomas Nast illustration, appeared in my local paper. I wanted to share it with the SST committee. Merry Christmas to all and may this season's spirit of peace inspire us all to be better men and women.
TTG
by Richard T. Sale for Carol, Christmas Eve 1987
Download How There Came to be a North Star by Richard T Sale
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