Veterans share holiday memories
Last week, we asked veterans for their Christmas memories. We wanted to know how they celebrated — or how they coped — during the holidays when they were so far from home. Here are edited excerpts of some of the submissions.
Candle-lit shacks, unexpected decorations
John Stevens Berry Sr. of Lincoln was chief defense counsel in the largest general court martial district in Vietnam in 1968 and 1969.
I spent Christmas 1968 in Vietnam. At our base camp, my boss would sometimes allow me to take a driver and a jeep across the road that separated us from the Widows' Village.
The Vietnamese government had arranged a group of shacks and the widows of fallen Vietnamese soldiers lived there with their children. It was generally off-limits, except for authorized humanitarian activities.
I would occasionally go there to assist in teaching English.
That Christmas Eve, I took with me a small paperback my mother had sent me, "A Child's Christmas in Wales," by Dylan Thomas, and a large wooden box of chocolates she had sent me. I also took a Red Cross girl with me, and she had plenty of goodies, and somebody from the mess hall let us have a couple of cases of soda pop.
Of course, the people we were visiting were generally not Christians, but the ones who came to our meetings were interested in hearing and speaking English and learning about our traditions.
We made our trip, distributed the gifts, sang "Silent Night" and I read "A Child's Christmas in Wales" to a very small audience that appeared to enjoy the performance every bit as much as I had enjoyed seeing Bob Hope a few weeks earlier.
Driving back, the Red Cross girl commented on how the small, candle-lit shacks seemed to her to be a touching Christmas decoration; she even saw Christmas lights in the tracer rounds being fired from the gun ships overhead. It was, in its way, a very merry Christmas.
The next day I went to Long Binh to visit my clients in the stockade. I was able to smuggle some chocolates in my briefcase, wishing those forlorn soldiers the best Christmas they could have under the circumstances.
Cold cuts and Canadian liquor
Ben Goble of Lincoln was assigned to the Combat Operations Division of the 5th Air Force, headquartered in a compound in northern Seoul, Korea. Here's his memory of Christmas 1952 — and the rare night he spent in town.
We were restricted to the compound for security reasons. But as Christmas approached, a group of us organized a party. We received special permission to spend Christmas Eve at a former restaurant in downtown Seoul, provided we took security precautions.
Each of us chipped in $5 for cold cuts and soft drinks. A short time after the party started, a group of Canadian paratroopers crashed it. They had the largest liquor bottles I have ever seen. So we merged their liquor and our cold cuts and sang Christmas carols.
There was a lot of discussion about the war, especially about who was responsible for us being so far from home on Christmas. The general consensus seemed to be that if those responsible for the war actually had to fight in it and not be home for Christmas, maybe they wouldn't be so anxious to start it.
Did that fellow live or die?
Marvin Moser of Hickman spent the days before Christmas 1944 under attack by a German panzer division — and trying to rejoin a larger group of U.S. soldiers.
We were under fire and there were casualties. After the jeep I drove made it across the stream, about a dozen men climbed on and hung on wherever they could. One soldier was critically injured and they placed him across the hood of my jeep and we made a frenzied effort to find a first aid station. The weather was bitterly cold but our column drove most of the night.
We came upon a small village somewhere around St. Vith, Belgium. We were billeted in homes, where we warmed up and slept most of the next day. We did not have much time to think about family, but I had just heard my mother had undergone cancer surgery and she was uppermost in my prayers.
Christmas morning we heard the noise of many engines going past. It was a column of U.S. tanks, trucks, and tank destroyers trying to get through the village on very icy roads. Hallelujah! We had escaped back to our own lines!
My mind often goes back to the wounded fellow on the hood of my jeep. Did he live or die? Because when I went back to my jeep, there was an abundance of blood on my hood and fenders.
That is my memory of a war 60 years ago. I thank God I can be here in Hickman, in a warm house and surrounded by a loving family.
Carols in a dark sky
After two weeks in the field, Donald Meyer of Diller spent Christmas Eve 1969 at FSB Buttons — a fire support base in the Phuoc Long province of Vietnam. He was a member of the Army's 1st Cavalry Division.
It was always good to get in and get a hot meal and shower. We were getting ready for our short stay when a C-130 came into the airstrip. What a sight. The nose was painted red and the PA system was playing Christmas carols. It was a USO group. The ladies had Santa clothes on with short skirts and were giving out soda, eggnog and gifts.
Later that night, a plane with no lights flew around the area playing Christmas carols. What I really remember was "Silent Night." It made you want to be home. To this day, it's hard for me to listen to "Silent Night" without a tear or two.
A fair cup of cocoa
Nels Jensen of Lincoln spent several Christmases in the service, the last in Sasebo, Japan in 1945.
We had set up a field hospital and on Christmas Eve my dear friend Ken Nelson (now deceased) and I made ourselves some hot chocolate over our small stove, wished each other a Merry Christmas, and went back to work in our X-ray lab.
Army cocoa and powdered milk made a fair cup of hot chocolate.
Christmas with the locals
In 1951, while many other enlisted men were heading to Korea, Earl Kraft of Lincoln went to Germany because, he says, he spoke German. While stationed in Schweinfurt, Germany, his captain asked if any soldier wanted to spend the holidays with a local family.
Our Christmas Eve meal was a cold supper with sausage, soup and good hard bread. I had taken gifts — a carton of cigarettes, a box of Hershey bars, gum and two pounds of coffee.
We sang carols, and the father and the boys played the violin. They had a few small gifts under the tree they exchanged. We sang and talked and went to bed.
On Christmas day, the mother and boys went to church and the father, grandfather and I went to the neighborhood gasthaus. They introduced me to everyone there (all Germans) and the singing and beer-drinking began. We locked arms and swayed back and forth with beer steins in our hands. At noon we staggered back to their apartment.
We laid on the floor around a heating stove and took a nap. We awoke around 2 for dinner. A toast with potato schnapps was followed by a dumpling-and-duck dinner. This was an expensive and elegant meal.
I had a watch the older boy admired. I gave it to him. It was probably worth $5. I left for the base but since the boys had never ridden in a car, I took them for a ride. The cab driver returned them home.
Cookies from home
Chris Hove celebrated Christmas 1989 aboard the aircraft carrier USS Constellation. The S-3A Viking pilot was headed to the Indian Ocean to escort oil tankers in and out of the Straits of Hormuz.
My most cherished memory was the day I received a box from home just before Christmas. Inside was the most precious gift I'd ever received — pecan sandie Christmas cookies made by my mom. Separately wrapped and carefully placed so that not one was damaged. The box meant more to me than any gift a person could give.
I've always said Christmas was probably the most difficult for me. The cookies brought me a sliver of home. Every Christmas I count my blessings we have folks willing to sacrifice for our freedom.
His gift? A warm sleeping bag
Bob Woodruff of Ulysses spent a cold, windy Christmas Eve in 1952 in Korea, performing with the 7th Infantry's division band. Then he spent the first two hours of Christmas pulling guard duty.
It was a very quiet evening except for fighter planes high overhead. I hoped they were ours. Around 1 a.m., the officer of the day came by and wished me a merry Christmas.
I was glad to get back to our tent to crawl into my sleeping bag to get warm.
Homemade cookies and old news
Larry D. Holle of Lincoln spent September 1965 to March 1967 as a clerk typist for the Army on Okinawa, Japan.
Christmastime was especially hard as I thought about the family gatherings that were going on without me.
I did receive numerous goodie packages from my parents and friends and relatives. I was especially surprised when I received a box of homemade cookies from the American Legion auxiliary from Hanover, Kan. I was raised in the Hanover area. My parents also sent me the hometown paper. It was old news by the time I got it, but it was nice to keep up on what was going on back home.
This Christmas, my thoughts and prayers are with all our servicemen and women serving in Iraq. Hopefully they will all be able to return home safely.
The long-lasting kindness of a stranger
Duane Fish got much more than a Christmas card from a stranger when he spent his first holiday away from home in Korea in 1986. Fish, born and raised in Lincoln but now living in Illinois, served in the Army as a communications specialist.
My mother asked a co-worker to send me a Christmas card, who in turn asked her daughter to send one as well. I kept up a correspondence with her daughter and when I came back on leave, we met and dated. We kept up the correspondence for about three years.
When my enlistment was up, I went home into the Reserves. She and I married shortly after I came home. We celebrated our 15th anniversary in September.
Were it not for that first Christmas card to a homesick Nebraska boy nearly two decades ago, we would not have three wonderful kids, not to mention a terrific marriage.
He'd give anything to be home, but he has a job to do
What do Nebraska boys talk about when they're half a world away from each other? Huntley's basketball team, of course, and the corn crop. Karen Kammann sent this letter written by her father, Ernest "Ernie" Kammann, to his cousin Allen Brummer, who now lives in Wilcox. Ernie Kammann was serving in the Pacific Theater when he took a few minutes to send this letter home.
December 22, 1944
Dear Cousin Hap and all the rest:
Well I want to take this time to thank you all so very much for the packages which you sent me. Everything was in just tip top shape, including the popcorn and also the candy and nuts. I can't seem to express it enough in words how much I appreciate what you do for me. Maybe someday if and when I ever get back I will be able to repay you all for your very kind deeds. I surely hope so.
Well how are you getting along with your corn picking. I suppose that you are about done. Say from what I hear the corn must really be extra good this year. I only hope that it will do that again next season or half that good at least.
Well Hap how do you think Huntley's basketball team will do this season. Did they play any football. I know that they had a town team for my Brother Fritz played with them. How was Fritz was he pretty good. I always kid him when I write him about his team.
Well Christmas is almost here and I suppose that you are all planning on a big Christmas dinner. Boy I would give anything if I could be there with all of you. But as you know I have a job to do. So that takes care of that.
Well as it is about my bedtime so will close for now hoping to hear from any of you soon. Wishing you all a very Merry Christmas and a Happy and Prosperous New 1945. So Long everybody.
Your nephew and cousin,
T/Sgt Ernest Kammann
‘I cried in front of my buddies'
Charlie Running Hawk of Lincoln spent Christmas 1966 in a 6-foot trench in Vietnam, fighting the strongest homesickness the Marine had ever felt.
Monsoon season was just starting and the trench was muddy, cold and wet. I remembered my mother baking, cooking and the warmth and smell of pine in our one-big-room home on Pine Ridge, S.D. I can remember when my father, brother and I would go out and cut down a tree for Christmas, and my sister stringing popcorn for the tree. I closed my eyes that night and it was like I was there.
I was awakened by a jet passing by and I came back to reality,
I always remembered that moment, almost every Christmas, because I remembered I cried in front of my buddies. We came back two days later and had our Christmas late: Dry clothes, hot food and letters from home were what we were looking forward to.
Missing Bob Hope
Army Sgt. Kenneth Bedlan of Shickley was 19 and scared when he arrived in Cu Chi Vietnam in December 1968.
Coming from Nebraska, the first thing that I noticed was how hot and humid it was — not the typical cold, snowy December I was used to.
I had about one more week of training in Cu Chi. Then I was shipped out to Tay Ninh Province. I was disappointed because I missed seeing Bob Hope by one day.
I spent Christmas Day 1968 at the Fire Base Rawlins with the Vietcong providing Christmas "lights."
A glorious Christmas
Fifty-three years ago, the destroyer USS Hanson sailed from Korea to Sasebo, Japan. On board was Wally Roe of Geneva, who served in the Navy from 1951 to 1955.
I was on the recreation committee and we voted to go ashore and meet the chamber about getting 30 children to come out to our ship. We sent a boat ashore to bring them and their parents out for Christmas dinner. I never in my life saw kids eat so much. The 5-year-old girl I was escorting filled her tray twice.
We gave each girl a doll and each boy a dump truck we had purchased in town. I think that was one of the most happiest and glorious Christmases I ever had.
Candle-lit shacks, unexpected decorations
John Stevens Berry Sr. of Lincoln was chief defense counsel in the largest general court martial district in Vietnam in 1968 and 1969.
I spent Christmas 1968 in Vietnam. At our base camp, my boss would sometimes allow me to take a driver and a jeep across the road that separated us from the Widows' Village.
The Vietnamese government had arranged a group of shacks and the widows of fallen Vietnamese soldiers lived there with their children. It was generally off-limits, except for authorized humanitarian activities.
I would occasionally go there to assist in teaching English.
That Christmas Eve, I took with me a small paperback my mother had sent me, "A Child's Christmas in Wales," by Dylan Thomas, and a large wooden box of chocolates she had sent me. I also took a Red Cross girl with me, and she had plenty of goodies, and somebody from the mess hall let us have a couple of cases of soda pop.
Of course, the people we were visiting were generally not Christians, but the ones who came to our meetings were interested in hearing and speaking English and learning about our traditions.
We made our trip, distributed the gifts, sang "Silent Night" and I read "A Child's Christmas in Wales" to a very small audience that appeared to enjoy the performance every bit as much as I had enjoyed seeing Bob Hope a few weeks earlier.
Driving back, the Red Cross girl commented on how the small, candle-lit shacks seemed to her to be a touching Christmas decoration; she even saw Christmas lights in the tracer rounds being fired from the gun ships overhead. It was, in its way, a very merry Christmas.
The next day I went to Long Binh to visit my clients in the stockade. I was able to smuggle some chocolates in my briefcase, wishing those forlorn soldiers the best Christmas they could have under the circumstances.
Cold cuts and Canadian liquor
Ben Goble of Lincoln was assigned to the Combat Operations Division of the 5th Air Force, headquartered in a compound in northern Seoul, Korea. Here's his memory of Christmas 1952 — and the rare night he spent in town.
We were restricted to the compound for security reasons. But as Christmas approached, a group of us organized a party. We received special permission to spend Christmas Eve at a former restaurant in downtown Seoul, provided we took security precautions.
Each of us chipped in $5 for cold cuts and soft drinks. A short time after the party started, a group of Canadian paratroopers crashed it. They had the largest liquor bottles I have ever seen. So we merged their liquor and our cold cuts and sang Christmas carols.
There was a lot of discussion about the war, especially about who was responsible for us being so far from home on Christmas. The general consensus seemed to be that if those responsible for the war actually had to fight in it and not be home for Christmas, maybe they wouldn't be so anxious to start it.
Did that fellow live or die?
Marvin Moser of Hickman spent the days before Christmas 1944 under attack by a German panzer division — and trying to rejoin a larger group of U.S. soldiers.
We were under fire and there were casualties. After the jeep I drove made it across the stream, about a dozen men climbed on and hung on wherever they could. One soldier was critically injured and they placed him across the hood of my jeep and we made a frenzied effort to find a first aid station. The weather was bitterly cold but our column drove most of the night.
We came upon a small village somewhere around St. Vith, Belgium. We were billeted in homes, where we warmed up and slept most of the next day. We did not have much time to think about family, but I had just heard my mother had undergone cancer surgery and she was uppermost in my prayers.
Christmas morning we heard the noise of many engines going past. It was a column of U.S. tanks, trucks, and tank destroyers trying to get through the village on very icy roads. Hallelujah! We had escaped back to our own lines!
My mind often goes back to the wounded fellow on the hood of my jeep. Did he live or die? Because when I went back to my jeep, there was an abundance of blood on my hood and fenders.
That is my memory of a war 60 years ago. I thank God I can be here in Hickman, in a warm house and surrounded by a loving family.
Carols in a dark sky
After two weeks in the field, Donald Meyer of Diller spent Christmas Eve 1969 at FSB Buttons — a fire support base in the Phuoc Long province of Vietnam. He was a member of the Army's 1st Cavalry Division.
It was always good to get in and get a hot meal and shower. We were getting ready for our short stay when a C-130 came into the airstrip. What a sight. The nose was painted red and the PA system was playing Christmas carols. It was a USO group. The ladies had Santa clothes on with short skirts and were giving out soda, eggnog and gifts.
Later that night, a plane with no lights flew around the area playing Christmas carols. What I really remember was "Silent Night." It made you want to be home. To this day, it's hard for me to listen to "Silent Night" without a tear or two.
A fair cup of cocoa
Nels Jensen of Lincoln spent several Christmases in the service, the last in Sasebo, Japan in 1945.
We had set up a field hospital and on Christmas Eve my dear friend Ken Nelson (now deceased) and I made ourselves some hot chocolate over our small stove, wished each other a Merry Christmas, and went back to work in our X-ray lab.
Army cocoa and powdered milk made a fair cup of hot chocolate.
Christmas with the locals
In 1951, while many other enlisted men were heading to Korea, Earl Kraft of Lincoln went to Germany because, he says, he spoke German. While stationed in Schweinfurt, Germany, his captain asked if any soldier wanted to spend the holidays with a local family.
Our Christmas Eve meal was a cold supper with sausage, soup and good hard bread. I had taken gifts — a carton of cigarettes, a box of Hershey bars, gum and two pounds of coffee.
We sang carols, and the father and the boys played the violin. They had a few small gifts under the tree they exchanged. We sang and talked and went to bed.
On Christmas day, the mother and boys went to church and the father, grandfather and I went to the neighborhood gasthaus. They introduced me to everyone there (all Germans) and the singing and beer-drinking began. We locked arms and swayed back and forth with beer steins in our hands. At noon we staggered back to their apartment.
We laid on the floor around a heating stove and took a nap. We awoke around 2 for dinner. A toast with potato schnapps was followed by a dumpling-and-duck dinner. This was an expensive and elegant meal.
I had a watch the older boy admired. I gave it to him. It was probably worth $5. I left for the base but since the boys had never ridden in a car, I took them for a ride. The cab driver returned them home.
Cookies from home
Chris Hove celebrated Christmas 1989 aboard the aircraft carrier USS Constellation. The S-3A Viking pilot was headed to the Indian Ocean to escort oil tankers in and out of the Straits of Hormuz.
My most cherished memory was the day I received a box from home just before Christmas. Inside was the most precious gift I'd ever received — pecan sandie Christmas cookies made by my mom. Separately wrapped and carefully placed so that not one was damaged. The box meant more to me than any gift a person could give.
I've always said Christmas was probably the most difficult for me. The cookies brought me a sliver of home. Every Christmas I count my blessings we have folks willing to sacrifice for our freedom.
His gift? A warm sleeping bag
Bob Woodruff of Ulysses spent a cold, windy Christmas Eve in 1952 in Korea, performing with the 7th Infantry's division band. Then he spent the first two hours of Christmas pulling guard duty.
It was a very quiet evening except for fighter planes high overhead. I hoped they were ours. Around 1 a.m., the officer of the day came by and wished me a merry Christmas.
I was glad to get back to our tent to crawl into my sleeping bag to get warm.
Homemade cookies and old news
Larry D. Holle of Lincoln spent September 1965 to March 1967 as a clerk typist for the Army on Okinawa, Japan.
Christmastime was especially hard as I thought about the family gatherings that were going on without me.
I did receive numerous goodie packages from my parents and friends and relatives. I was especially surprised when I received a box of homemade cookies from the American Legion auxiliary from Hanover, Kan. I was raised in the Hanover area. My parents also sent me the hometown paper. It was old news by the time I got it, but it was nice to keep up on what was going on back home.
This Christmas, my thoughts and prayers are with all our servicemen and women serving in Iraq. Hopefully they will all be able to return home safely.
The long-lasting kindness of a stranger
Duane Fish got much more than a Christmas card from a stranger when he spent his first holiday away from home in Korea in 1986. Fish, born and raised in Lincoln but now living in Illinois, served in the Army as a communications specialist.
My mother asked a co-worker to send me a Christmas card, who in turn asked her daughter to send one as well. I kept up a correspondence with her daughter and when I came back on leave, we met and dated. We kept up the correspondence for about three years.
When my enlistment was up, I went home into the Reserves. She and I married shortly after I came home. We celebrated our 15th anniversary in September.
Were it not for that first Christmas card to a homesick Nebraska boy nearly two decades ago, we would not have three wonderful kids, not to mention a terrific marriage.
He'd give anything to be home, but he has a job to do
What do Nebraska boys talk about when they're half a world away from each other? Huntley's basketball team, of course, and the corn crop. Karen Kammann sent this letter written by her father, Ernest "Ernie" Kammann, to his cousin Allen Brummer, who now lives in Wilcox. Ernie Kammann was serving in the Pacific Theater when he took a few minutes to send this letter home.
December 22, 1944
Dear Cousin Hap and all the rest:
Well I want to take this time to thank you all so very much for the packages which you sent me. Everything was in just tip top shape, including the popcorn and also the candy and nuts. I can't seem to express it enough in words how much I appreciate what you do for me. Maybe someday if and when I ever get back I will be able to repay you all for your very kind deeds. I surely hope so.
Well how are you getting along with your corn picking. I suppose that you are about done. Say from what I hear the corn must really be extra good this year. I only hope that it will do that again next season or half that good at least.
Well Hap how do you think Huntley's basketball team will do this season. Did they play any football. I know that they had a town team for my Brother Fritz played with them. How was Fritz was he pretty good. I always kid him when I write him about his team.
Well Christmas is almost here and I suppose that you are all planning on a big Christmas dinner. Boy I would give anything if I could be there with all of you. But as you know I have a job to do. So that takes care of that.
Well as it is about my bedtime so will close for now hoping to hear from any of you soon. Wishing you all a very Merry Christmas and a Happy and Prosperous New 1945. So Long everybody.
Your nephew and cousin,
T/Sgt Ernest Kammann
‘I cried in front of my buddies'
Charlie Running Hawk of Lincoln spent Christmas 1966 in a 6-foot trench in Vietnam, fighting the strongest homesickness the Marine had ever felt.
Monsoon season was just starting and the trench was muddy, cold and wet. I remembered my mother baking, cooking and the warmth and smell of pine in our one-big-room home on Pine Ridge, S.D. I can remember when my father, brother and I would go out and cut down a tree for Christmas, and my sister stringing popcorn for the tree. I closed my eyes that night and it was like I was there.
I was awakened by a jet passing by and I came back to reality,
I always remembered that moment, almost every Christmas, because I remembered I cried in front of my buddies. We came back two days later and had our Christmas late: Dry clothes, hot food and letters from home were what we were looking forward to.
Missing Bob Hope
Army Sgt. Kenneth Bedlan of Shickley was 19 and scared when he arrived in Cu Chi Vietnam in December 1968.
Coming from Nebraska, the first thing that I noticed was how hot and humid it was — not the typical cold, snowy December I was used to.
I had about one more week of training in Cu Chi. Then I was shipped out to Tay Ninh Province. I was disappointed because I missed seeing Bob Hope by one day.
I spent Christmas Day 1968 at the Fire Base Rawlins with the Vietcong providing Christmas "lights."
A glorious Christmas
Fifty-three years ago, the destroyer USS Hanson sailed from Korea to Sasebo, Japan. On board was Wally Roe of Geneva, who served in the Navy from 1951 to 1955.
I was on the recreation committee and we voted to go ashore and meet the chamber about getting 30 children to come out to our ship. We sent a boat ashore to bring them and their parents out for Christmas dinner. I never in my life saw kids eat so much. The 5-year-old girl I was escorting filled her tray twice.
We gave each girl a doll and each boy a dump truck we had purchased in town. I think that was one of the most happiest and glorious Christmases I ever had.
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