| The Characters of Combat! are owned by ABC or whomever owns the rights
Copyright November 2004 by Anne McG. A Simple Gesture Doc was working his way back through the wet snow to his squad's temporary shelter. For the last two days, he had to struggle through wet frozen sludge to get anywhere in King Company’s busling operation areas in the bombed out village. It was a miracle in it’s self he could hold his medical bag while trying to juggle Caje’s hot meal. The wet snow kept sticking to his boots, making walking impossible for more than twenty feet at a time He kept knocking one boot against the other trying to get the stuff off. By the time he got to the weathered door of the tumbled barn, he felt he had the feet of Frankenstein. He could hear Kirby complaining the beef stew tasted like horse meat. Muttering a word or two about Kirby, he thought we are damn lucky to be eating a hot meal at all, horse meat or not. Kicking the wet slop off his feet again, he opened the door and entered. Inside the barn, the squad sat around a small fire they managed to make with old boards they stripped off of the walls. The smell of hay permeated the lofty room, with a touch of oat mash mingling in. What ever animals were lodged here once, still haunted the place. After giving Caje the hot meal he lugged there, he sat down near the welcome warmth of the fire. He looked at the snow crusted on his boots melting with the fire’s heat. It made Doc think of the farm back home and the winter white at this time of year. Back in Arkansas at this time of year, the snow would be white and powdery. When you threw it up in the air it would sparkle like a crystal in the sunlight. He loved the rainbow colors pulsating through the snowy powder as it drifted down to the ground. The snow here in France was a wet cement compared to Arkansas in December. Currier and Ives did not fit here, at least not now. With so much destruction in the countryside, it was hard to tell what anything once looked like. Currier and Ives rang a bell all of a sudden. Taking off his helmet to scratch his head Doc thought, Gosh today is the 24th isn’t it? It’s Christmas Eve, well how do you like that. Losing track of time again. Gotta do something about it then. We’ll be here for at least one more night. Stretching his legs out, to get more comfortable, he looked at the other guys he spent so much time with. Over the months they became a sort of family. Like a family too, everyone was different. You had Kirby, the perpetual complainer, but solid to the core. He had a way with words to make you laugh. Caje, the dark silent shadow of the squad, would save your life at the flick of a wrist. He took his soldiering to heart to protect those closest to him. Then there was LittleJohn, a big man, but gentle in nature. He had a good sense of humor and loved the simple things in life. His sidekick Billy Nelson, was the eternal kid in his innocence. He was a breath of fresh air to all of them. That left Saunders and Lieutenant Hanley. Doc would agree with the rest of the squad, Saunders was the nerve center, a compassionate man in his own way, but a task driver. He kept them all going. He would knock your socks off one minute, but the next, consol you on the horrors around you. He was a private individual though, never admitting much about himself. Saunders had that in common with Hanley. Doc smiled at the comparison. Talk about the Lieutenant. He and the Sergeant were peas in a pod in their make up. Both stubborn to a tee, when it came to the point of an opinion or situation. Both hated to give up their ground. It could over a mission or just general concern for the men. He had witnessed that many times. Doc never really got to know Hanley as well as Saunders, if you could call it knowing the Sergeant. You could say Saunders and Hanley were like parents to the squad. They were always hovering over the men as mother hens. Both men played that role, even though they would not admit it. Doc chuckled at that thought. Dad and Mom of the crew, oh brother! He would not say a word. But what a family they had become. As far as Doc, He felt he fit in just as he was named. Besides patching them up, he turned out to be their mentor. Even Saunders or Hanley would mosey on over for if something bothered them. It never failed. Doc had a earthy common sense to him, as rich as the soil of Arkansas. He could nail a problem on the head if given that option. An easy going individual, he could understand both sides of the story to compromise the problem or rip your head off with a word. He was the gentlest of men with an instinctive nature for the truth. With those brilliant china blue eyes of his, Doc could see into your soul. If you told him what a big help he was, the medic would not believe you. He would just say it’s all in a day’s work. Talking about work, Doc was on a mission now. There was Christmas to celebrate. **** Doc got up and brushed himself off. Looking at everyone lounging around the fire, he zeroed in on Billy. “Billy,” Doc asked, giving him one of those looks to melt butter. “I need a favor.” “What now Doc, I’m finally getting warm here,” Billy moaned. “Give a guy a break.” “Now, now,” Doc crooned. “It’s not all that bad. All I want to do is take a little walk. I just need some help.” Billy rolled his eyes. Huffing in surrender, he picked himself up. “Ok Doc, what gives?” “I’ll tell you outside, we won’t be long. Before you know it, we’ll be back." Doc was already at the door. “Come on now.” He then turned and looked at Caje. “Where’s Sarge?” Caje looked up from eating his dinner and pointed toward Hanley’s CP with his fork. “He’s with the Lieutenant. Something about Powell’s squad. Seems Powell screwed up on his recon yesterday. The map he marked is off on a kraut gun position. The Sarge just wants to make sure we’re not dragged out on some half cocked goose chase. You know the Lieutenant. He always picks our squad for the foul ups. This time Powell can do it himself.” Doc nodded in agreement. “You're right there Caje. We have had enough running around in this slop. This is the first day we’ve had to rest in weeks. We’re ordered down for 24 hours, it better stay that way.” Kirby taking a drag of his cigarette threw it in the fire. Pointing a finger at his dilapidated boots he piped up. “You're damn right Doc. My feet are about ready to fall off. I’m not moving for anyone, even Patton!” Doc just shook his head at Kirby’s usual griping . He wondered if hit Kirby yet that Christmas eve had arrived. In fact none of the guys mentioned it. Could it be everyone was so wrapped up in themselves, they forgot Christmas or even cared. That bothered him. Doc just would put that aside for now. Better to get Billy out of here to do what was on his mind. Kirby’s tantrums could wait. “Forget it Kirby.” Doc waved his hand in dismissal to cut him off. Looking at Billy he said, “Come on Billy, Let’s go. I don’t want to be out all day. It’s not getting any warmer out there.” Both men got up, buttoning up coats to brave the cold weather. Billy gave Doc a hard look as he put on his helmet. He asked again, “Doc, what is going on?” He was curious about the medic’s little errand. Doc on his way to the door whispered to Billy, “it’s Christmas eve Billy, we’re gonna do something about it. How about we hunt for a nice little tree to decorate.” He took on a mischievous look as he opened the door to head outside. Billy’s mouth cracked open with a crooked smile. With eyes alight he whispered back, “Doc, you’re a genius. I totally forgot what day it was. Let’s go for it. After we get the tree, let’s russle up a few decoration to dress it up with. Oh! Also, some wine for a toast. A little bit of celebrating would even get Kirby to shut his big mouth. That will be a blessing!” Doc laughed as both men left the barn and tromped to the wood line. **** Doc with Billy tagging after him, took a well traveled shepherd’s trail through the woods. They did not have to go far when Doc spotted the sweetest looking little tree, not far off the path. It stood about four feet high, dark green, with long slender needles. The tree was a perfect cone shape which was very hard to find. Doc could not believe his luck. Nudging Billy on the shoulder, he pointed to his selected prize off the path. “Here ya go, Billy,” Doc crowed. He pulled Billy by the arm into the woods. Billy seeing the little tree smiled, then knelt down to study the trunk. It looked like his bayonet would do the trick. They would not have to go back for an ax. “Looks good Doc,” Billy said. He pulled out his bayonet, then looked at medic. “Do me a favor and stand in back to me to brace the trunk higher up. I think I can give it a good couple of hacks to free it. Just watch yourself.” Doc nodded and stood in back of Billy. He heard Billy give the trunk a good half a dozen hacks, then it came free. No one had to get out of the way for the tree to fall or scream timber. Since the medic was holding the tree, he was able to pull it up from the ground, like picking a flower. Doc leaned his prize against his body until Billy could get in position to help him carry it. Billy took the base of the tree, leaving Doc the honors of carrying the top. He said to the medic, “Take the front Doc. I want to keep an eye on you. Can’t have our medic falling flat on his face carrying this thing. The tree might want to strangle you!” Doc just laughed and took his position. Both men walked back to the trail toward home, carry their small piece of Christmas back with them. **** Getting the little tree back to the squad was not the only thing they had to do. Doc and Billy scavenged through every conceivable place to find a shiny bauble or a piece of colored string to dress their special prize. Billy even invaded the mess station to try to find an odd cooking contraption small enough to adorn Doc’s prize. He became so excited in his search, he tried to take off with an egg beater. The cook caught him trying to stuff it in his coat. The poor cook just rolled his eyes taking the egg beater away from the enthusiastic private. Billy did get two balls for brewing loose tea. He spotted them on a loose shelf above the stove. The silvery steel had designs of brewing holes along the surface, as well as a chain to hang it. Victorious, he went looking to see how Doc made out. Doc was just leaving the supply building two bottles of wine and assorted medical items he could use for decorations. He located some odd gauze lined with red lines. Figuring it would make great garland, he took that besides some colored thread you could use to sew cloth or in a emergency close up wounds. He even found some odd Christmas balls someone had collected for the occasion that were a bit chipped or discolored. Since no one claimed them, he took them. It would be a modest holiday statement, but it would still set the mood. Billy, seeing Doc come out of supply ran over to meet the medic, nearing running him over. In his determination to get to Doc, he forgot to slow down. If it wasn’t for Doc’s fast reflexes both would be flat faced in the snow. The medic laughed and caught Billy by the arm. Steadying the young private, Doc looked what was gathered in his arms. Billy’s find had a small mirror or two, two odd steel balls, cast off playing cards, and a small toy horse. Doc wondered where the heck he got the toy, but decided he better not ask. “Well Doc,” Billy announced. “This is everything I could find. Will it do?” The medic with a chuckle replied, “It looks good Billy, at least the tree won’t be bare. We’ll have a festive looker yet,” Doc’s eyes took on the twinkle everyone knew when he excited about something. Slapping the young private on the back in a good mission accomplished, they headed back to their squad mates. **** Caje, Kirby, and LittleJohn were still sitting around the fire when the two tree collectors came in. The guys were quiet and very sullen looking. Doc’s three squad partners looked as if the world fell in. A smile would have seemed out of place in this pessimistic group. Kirby broke the silence with a disgusted look of disbelief, when he saw what Doc and Billy dragged in. “Billy, what the hell is that?”, Kirby exclaimed. We have enough scrap wood for the fire. All we need is green pine burning you dummy. We’ll be smoked out of here!” Doc taking his helmet off, shot a reply so fast it could make your head spin. “Kirby! It’s Christmas eve you fool. Don’t any of you keep track of the date? It’s a little bit of the holiday we can all appreciate. Just a simple gesture, for pete’s sake. So get off your duff and help us here!” Kirby looked like he would either slink in a corner or pop one good to Doc. LittleJohn seemed stunned, where with Caje, who can tell? He always remained cool, except for the eyes. Caje’s hazel eyes seemed to take on a distant look if he was far away from the squad, even France, if it came down to it. Doc again shot out, “well, come on! We’re not standing here all day!” At Doc’s second plea, LittleJohn got up and lumbered over. “Sorry Doc, the date just hit me. I don’t think of holidays anymore, just when my ma writes. I guess the mail hasn’t caught up with us yet. The last letter I got was before Thanksgiving when we were out on that messy patrol with Baker’s squad. Here let me help.” Doc nodded a thank you as LittleJohn took the tree from him. Baker’s squad he thought, oh what a mess. We lost too many young men that day, including Baker. Shaking off the thought, he pointed to the closest corner to put the tree. It would be nearest to the fire, yet far away enough so there was no danger of the tree going up in smoke. Also, everyone could see the finished decorated cheer from the fire. LittleJohn and Billy propped the tree up using some rocks loose from the barn’s stone foundation. Satisfied it was secured, Doc and Billy started wrapping the medical gauze on it for garland. Little John gathered the scavenged decorations to check to see if he could hang them. Pulling out his pocket knife, he started to work on the toy horse to make a hole for the string. Caje and Kirby just watched the other three in disbelief as they worked to dress the little tree. Quicker than tying off a bandage, the garland was wrapped around from top to bottom. Doc finished with that task, went over to help LittleJohn. They both tied off string on other makeshift ornaments to hang with the colored thread. The toy horse done, Doc handed it to Billy to hang. All three men kept the sequence going, finally with the medic also putting ornaments on the tree. Between the three of them their Christmas chore was done. You had to say it did not look bad spiffed up, with bits of glass, paper and cloth. Caje and Kirby did not help or say a thing. Doc was getting pretty miffed at those two lug heads. Where was their holiday spirit? So what, if we are here in this place. Home can be anywhere you share, especially now, in France. All of us are still alive to celebrate, that was the ticket, to be grateful for that, besides lucky to still be together. “Ok you two,” Doc ejected. “What gives? Why all the moping? This is just a little holiday cheer to brighten things up. What is your problem?” Kirby just gave Doc a look as if the medic belonged in a rubber room. Caje just sat there smoking, still off in his own little world. “Doc,” Kirby said with a sigh. “What difference does it make. We’re all here in this hell hole. I know I don’t want to be here, but I’m stuck here. My mother is all alone in Chicago, all because I was drafted. My gung ho attitude died in Normandy. All that country and honor jargon doesn’t mean a damn thing today.” Caje looked over to Kirby. “I agree with Kirby, Doc. Today of all days I don’t want to be reminded of home or holiday.” He turned to give Doc a serious look. “I know what your up too Doc, I appreciate it. But it’s not worth the effort. Tomorrow or the next day, we will be back out in the mud, snow, what ever slop it is, popping off Krauts. We could get it. I just don’t want to celebrate a holy holiday knowing what I will have to do later on. Believe me.” Doc just looked at these two somber men wishing for once the truth of what they were doing here could be put in a different light, or prospective. What the squad meant to each other. The meaning of blood spilled in sacrifice, redefined to other terms. The medic just looked at all four men. Billy and LittleJohn just stood there by the tree totally dejected, quiet as mice. Kirby and Caje just sat there smoking, staring in the fire. Seeing the fire gave him an idea. He decided to tell a little story. Doc took his hands and did a come here gesture to the two men over by the tree. Kirby and Cajue looked up at Doc as LittleJohn sat down. Billy joined LittleJohn a second later after taking off his helmet. Adjusting his coat, He settled down with the group. Doc with a voice that could command a whirlwind, said, “OK you guys, I want you to listen to something, just a little story to pass the time. I mean it. Will you be willing to hear it? Well?” His four squad mates looked at each other and nodded to Doc. The medic sat down next to Caje and rubbed his hands in front of the fire to warm them. With a deep breath, Doc the story teller began to spin his tale. **** “Back in '37 I was just out of high school. I started to work the farm with my father full time. We were doing OK considering it was the depression, but my Dad could not afford hired help. There was a farm maybe two miles from us where times for this family were worse. The Holstons were a good family, the land was in their blood. Bob Holston great-grandfather migrated to Arkansas in the pioneer days. There was pride in farming, being a generational thing. But money was tight due to his wife Emily being in bad health. Heart I believe it was. They had three children, the oldest a girl, Sheila. She helped with the farm, where the to younger kids, Tom and Susan would help my dad out a few hours a day for the dollar or two he would pay them. This money went toward buying dry goods that were getting expensive, dust bowl and all. Bob’s farm machinery kept breaking down so it was nickel and dime to keep things going. Remember crops were low priced back then. The family did the best they could.” At that point in Doc’s story the door opened with Saunders and the biggest surprise at all, the Lieutenant stomping snow off their feet to come in. Saunders knowing Doc’s habit of story telling just put his fingers to his lips for Hanley to keep quiet. He then gestured Hanley to join the men at the fire. The Lieutenant took off his helmut and nodded, quietly sitting next to Saunders, legs drawn up, arms wrapped around his knees. Both men gave inquiring looks at Doc, seeing the little tree. Doc just shook his head, not breaking his stride. He continued on as if both men did not just arrive at all. “Now, come harvest time which is late September in Arksnsas, Bob went out with the tractor to cut down feed corn in his lower field. Somehow, the chain drive got stuck and he turned off the thing to check under the tractor. To this day we do not know what exactly happened, but the tractor started to roll forward with him under it. Bob got stuck in the chain mechanism under the the thing and it rolled into a gully. He was crushed to death. Sheila found him late that day after he did not respond to her calling him to dinner. He was only 41 years old.” Doc took a deep breath, looking at everyone around the fire. All the faces in the fire’s glow were at rapt attention. The only sound that could be heard was the crackling of the fire and the whisper of the wind through the cracked walls of the barn. He rubbed his bristly jaw, then went on with his story. “After Bob’s funeral Emily tried to keep the farm going, but as I said, she had a bad heart. Her youngest daughter Susan found her collapsed out in the barn with a milk pail in her hand. She went out for the early morning milking against Sheila’s protest it was too much for her. Emily’s heart gave out. It was so tragic, Emily died just three weeks after her husband’s death. They left behind three young children with Sheila, the oldest at 19 years of age. Any dreams for that girl to go on to college, travel, or just to enjoy her young life were gone.” Doc folded his hands and intensely looked into the fire. He spoke with an angry inflection. “Sheila still being a minor could not run the farm, or take legal custody of her younger brother and sister. She was at that awkard age where she was old enough to take care of herself, but too young to take on legal responsibility. She had to be 21, there was no flexibility. Sheila pleaded with the lawyers for Bob’s estate to let her take care of her younger siblings, but they turned from her with a deaf ear. Tom and Susan were placed in the state orphanage. It was better than the work house, but still it was a rough place for those kids to be. There was a limited visiting for Sheila to see the kids, but only once a month. Now that hurt.” Doc turned and looked at Kirby. “Sheila cared Kirby. She was in her own hell hole, but she never gave up. She kept her gung ho attitude as you put it, after everything she knew fell apart. She was drafted into a situation she did not like. But Sheila did everything she could to fight for a principle. To keep the ones she loved.” The medic glanced at Caje. “Sheila knew she have to crawl through the mud to get her family back. Today, next week, or next year. She gave up any dreams she had for herself. Sheila told me she would crawl through hell to get those kids back to her for a Christmas. As you put it Caje, she could be popped tomorrow as you would shoot a kraut.” “It is a holy holiday, but for more than the rejoicing of a birth. It’s celebration of family, what we do to pull together, to sacrifice, and to fight to gain what we believe. It’s a stance of how much we love each other, because we care! Even when all seems hopeless. We don’t force ourselves to forget the meaning of Christmas because we have to face a ugly tomorrow.” Doc stopped to catch his breath. Caje was white as snow and looked away from Doc. Kirby just stared above the Medic’s head. The rest looked at the fire, the light reflecting shadowed features. “Anyway, Doc went on. “Sheila lost the farm. Everything was in debt. She had no money to keep her home. She would have been out on the streets except someone cared, my dad. He gave her a shelter besides a chance to rebuild. Sheila went out and found a measly clerical job at ten dollars a week, but it was a start. She worked her way up from that to a better job, a place of her own, and the ability to care for her little brother and sister. At the age of 21 she proved to the courts she could provide for them. A kind person at the orphanage working with the estate lawyers, made sure those kids were not adopted out. Tom and Susan celebrated the Christmas of 1939 with Sheila, with a few stitches of furniture and a ratty little tree, but it was home with the only family they dreamed to be with, their sister. Sheila sacrified so the family she loved did not fall between the cracks. That was her principle and sole purpose, her blood kin. That Christmas was a pinnacle for all of them. It was a miracle. Remember the story the Gift of the Magi? Well, there it was!” Doc sighed and finished in a softer voice. “It was a new start for the Holston family at that memorable Christmas of 1939. Today they are doing fine. As far as I know Tom is now 17 and will be going to college on scholarship. The youngest Susan is 15, loves high school and soda pop. Both youngin’s are happy. As far as Sheila, she fell in love and married two years ago. The couple own a modest home near town. They both run the local general store. Where they go from here is now a free choice. Christmas for them is now everyday. A happy tale is never over, it keeps going, doesn‘t it, if you work for it.” All was quiet in the barn. You could hear a pin drop. Doc scratched his head, looked at the squad, and pointed at the makeshift tree. He said with emphasis. “So what does this have to do with us, that tree, and Christmas eve? Think about it, we’re a family! We were drafted into something we did not like. We endured and fought as Sheila did for a principle. Why is it that the six of us, seven if you include the Lieutenant, are still the core group that is still here since Normandy? How many squads do you know that have that original number from D-Day? Not many, we are a rarity if you go by the odds. I came in a little past that date, but not much. There has to be a reason. Are we just together for a short time, or are we destined to be a sort of family after all this is over? What ever it is, it is a gift. Our gift of the Magi is to each other! That tree represents our sacrifice every day I have to patch you guys up, save a life, or for you to save my bacon. We give up something of ourselves to give to each other, with no logic at times. That tree celebrates our bond with our lives in each other’s hands for something we’re working for. The goal besides the end of this war, is the endurance for love and family back home or anywhere. This squad is still together! We have become blood kin! This Christmas we should celebrate that we didn’t fall through the cracks. So don’t tell me it’s a waste. It’s a blessing as a squad we should cherish that we survived this long. Love comes in many forms. Ours is the love of honor of a family to work for a free choice and survive as Sheila did. Christmas is everyday and I don’t want to hear humbug! That’s it! I said my piece. Now I’m gonna enjoy that tree.” Doc turned to look at the tree. After a long moment he got up and hung a silver key chain his dad gave to him as a statement. No matter how extended relationships were, on this holy night all who sacrificed for a common goal to stay together were family. Doc’s simple gesture of hanging a beloved memento of his father’s brought a sense of unity to the squad’s little makeshift tree and Christmas Eve, 1944. **** Doc, emotion burning on that wholesome face, gave every man around the fire a hard look and stood by the tree. Slowly, hands fumbled to pants or shirt pockets. LittleJohn, fondling a faded small bag of earth from his home, got up and looped it on a forked branch. To LittleJohn, this small piece of dirt represented his pride of farming, installed by proud parents to grow creation from the ground. Kirby, teary eyed held an old muted silver sleigh bell. Reminiscent of a soft image of a father long deceased, who rang a strip of sleigh bells on Christmas eve night. He tied a string to the tarnished top and gently hung it near the bag of earth. The wonder of a four year child’s belief in the Magic of Santa Claus, still ingrained in Kirby’s memory by that simple object. Billy, with a flushed face gave the tree a touch of his innocence. A Flash Gordon decoder ring gleamed there, a gift from his little brother. Secret coded messages in letters brightening up his long dark nights. Caje looked around at his brothers in arms, pulling his mother’s cross from his pocket. A strong link from a loving mother who stood proud of her son, when a father turned his back in rejection. That joined the assembled collection among the green needles. Last but not least, left Saunders and Hanley. Both men, the unproclaimed parents of this rag tag group, got to their feet and approached holiday’s proclamation. Saunders, with eyes downcast, fingered a St. Christopher’s medal etched in gold. It symbolized a plea of protection from his little sister across the vastness of an ocean. Through all the campaigns this small piece of a sibling’s concern, held him in safety’s grace. Saunders delicately placed it near the top of the tree. Hanley not saying one word, quietly got up. Reaching to the back of his neck, he detached a minature gold angel with upswept wings. A promise of reuniting with his beloved life partner, together too short after that first tender kiss. Taking the relic by it’s intricate chain, he lovingly wound it on top of Doc’s lone simple gesture. Sparking as a icon, the Christmas symbol installed it‘s magic. A strong united family stood encircled around a powerful statement of promise. The purpose was complete. Hanley as a last example pulled out his notebook. Ripping strips of paper off, he gave one to each man. Telling everyone with a strong emphasis, to write a name in remembrance of someone gone. Passing a pencil around, a name was written in tender reflection. Names as Grady, Paul, Baker and many others danced before their eyes. A papered memorial weaved it’s self by roughened hands into a tree with bits of glass, paper, and cloth. Standing in that circle, Doc gestured with his hand to take Hanley‘s. The Lieutenant then took the Sergeant’s left hand and on it went till all the men had hands linked around the Christmas tree. Doc started to sing Silent Night. His sweet tenor filled the lofty barn with the sound of the holy song. From Hanley’s low baritone to Kirby’s gruff falsetto, all the squad joined in. Those lyrics reached beyond a bombed out, snow covered village. In the most significant night of the year, these men united in singing, sent a message of rebirth that sounded all around the world. The power of determination and sacrifice for blood kin in Doc‘s words, roosted right at their feet. The brave example of Sheila’s commitment to pick up the pieces of her family glowed in each man’s heart. A young girl no more than a child, sacrified dreams to the wind, and rose above her self to keep the world she knew, stay together in love as a family. The symbol of her purpose was Christmas. Working with a determined heart she worked a miracle as these men did this Christmas eve. The Christmas Eve of 1939 as well as 1944 became a antitheses of the failed world of before. As these men sang sweetly in holy wonder of reunification, she in turn reunited her family and brought them home. First squad of Second Platoon, King Company would follow that example in war or peace, bonded as a family. They would carry Christmas every day in their hearts to sacrifice for the ultimate goal. These men would bring the gift of the magi to all families everywhere, including themselves. Merry Christmas Second Platoon, and please keep singing for us all on that one night of miracles known as Christmas Eve. The End Warmest Christmas wishes, JB. I love you and thank you for bringing me home. You will always be the gift of the Magi to your little sister for all Christmas Eves to come. |
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