This is the story of my grandfather Gary Killgore and his Christmas in Vietnam during the war as recreated and told in first person by me.
I found myself in the Republic of Vietnam serving the U. S. Army trying my best to support the troops in the field with first rate intelligence and air support.
The team was made up of eight people, we each went by nicknames, Rip Repulski, Speedy-four clerk, Harry the Horse, Nudge Dunlap, Rod Ripple, and the Hip Nip. I was known as Nate Nikon, because I carried a Nikon camera with me whenever I went somewhere. we were the intelligence bureau, we called ourselves snake because we thought we were special and cool.
At Christmas time each year the North Vietnamese would agree to a cease fire so that everyone could enjoy the holiday season. It was Christmas and we were away from home,meaning away from our families and loved ones.
A large box had arrived addressed to us. The package was from frankie’s parents with a warning, “Do Not Open till Christmas” stenciled on the outside of the box. So we didn’t.
We knew it was Christmas Eve and even though we were at war, we all were still in higher spirits in light of the holiday. Each of us had stockpiled assorted gifts from various exchanges and packages from home to prepare our coming Christmas feast. There was one problem, we had no tree, not many pines in Vietnam.
The Salvation Army distributed little purple draw-sacks with goodies. writing paper, pencils, gum, and candy. This brought resounding cheers of joy, “hey waddya get”, and “say, I’ll trade this for that” . We played and acted like kids for the rest of the night.
We told Frankie to get the box we received a few months ago and he came out with the box.Frankie put the box on the floor, proceeded to open the box, fending eager hands.
First was an envelope containing a list of instructions and directions on what to do next. The instructions told us to spread the little packages out in an area big enough to house the box.
Each package was numbered 1 through whatever, each had a designated place on the table. There was an audio cassette and the directions told us to turn up the sound as loud as he could, to sit back with all of us, and listen for a bit.
You would not believe what happened next. Little Frankie’s Family had gathered his brothers, sisters, grandparents, aunts, and uncles to record Christmas Carols for us. We all nodded in appreciation and thought, what a wonderful background to our coming Christmas repast, oh and how nice it was of them to do something like that.
We didn’t even begin to fathom “how nice”. As each package was opened and the instructions were followed we shortly realized that Little Frankie’s family had gathered on Thanksgiving Day in Green Bay to make us “Christmas-in-a-Box”.
There were little presents for everyone, little bags of cookies and home-made fudge, little ornaments to decorate our office and briefing maps. However, the most amazing thing of all was a little pine tree Frankie’s father had cut down by their home. He took it to his workshop and very carefully cut off all its limbs and branches, numbering each little branch with a corresponding number on the hole drilled into the naked tree trunk. Somehow He created a miniature Christmas tree for us to rebuild during our Christmas 15,000 miles away.
Most of us stopped what we were doing as the collective recognition began to spread on all our faces. Some of us cried, a bit, just a little bit, some of us just sat there and sobbed. But they were tears of joy, thankfulness, and home.
Our tree was assembled, our presents passed out, fruit cake, cookies, candy snacks were distributed, and hot apple cider was poured.
As if to express my thanks to Our Lord, I went outside, under the stars, and looked to the East hoping to see that Star that would show all of us the way to home and salvation. I stood there a few moments, quietly, without moving. The events that had transpired warmed me to the bottom of my soul. I felt good, real good and loved, really loved. And I said thank you to God and thank you to everyone and everything that kept us safe throughout our lives. I thought of our troops in the field, celebrating Christmas in a foxhole and eating dinner out of a canteen cup. I remembered what it was like to wash under a rain storm and eat soggy powdered eggs with synthetic ham. I smiled, laughed at little. . . .
And so, there’d been Christmas.
I found myself in the Republic of Vietnam serving the U. S. Army trying my best to support the troops in the field with first rate intelligence and air support.
The team was made up of eight people, we each went by nicknames, Rip Repulski, Speedy-four clerk, Harry the Horse, Nudge Dunlap, Rod Ripple, and the Hip Nip. I was known as Nate Nikon, because I carried a Nikon camera with me whenever I went somewhere. we were the intelligence bureau, we called ourselves snake because we thought we were special and cool.
At Christmas time each year the North Vietnamese would agree to a cease fire so that everyone could enjoy the holiday season. It was Christmas and we were away from home,meaning away from our families and loved ones.
A large box had arrived addressed to us. The package was from frankie’s parents with a warning, “Do Not Open till Christmas” stenciled on the outside of the box. So we didn’t.
We knew it was Christmas Eve and even though we were at war, we all were still in higher spirits in light of the holiday. Each of us had stockpiled assorted gifts from various exchanges and packages from home to prepare our coming Christmas feast. There was one problem, we had no tree, not many pines in Vietnam.
The Salvation Army distributed little purple draw-sacks with goodies. writing paper, pencils, gum, and candy. This brought resounding cheers of joy, “hey waddya get”, and “say, I’ll trade this for that” . We played and acted like kids for the rest of the night.
We told Frankie to get the box we received a few months ago and he came out with the box.Frankie put the box on the floor, proceeded to open the box, fending eager hands.
First was an envelope containing a list of instructions and directions on what to do next. The instructions told us to spread the little packages out in an area big enough to house the box.
Each package was numbered 1 through whatever, each had a designated place on the table. There was an audio cassette and the directions told us to turn up the sound as loud as he could, to sit back with all of us, and listen for a bit.
You would not believe what happened next. Little Frankie’s Family had gathered his brothers, sisters, grandparents, aunts, and uncles to record Christmas Carols for us. We all nodded in appreciation and thought, what a wonderful background to our coming Christmas repast, oh and how nice it was of them to do something like that.
We didn’t even begin to fathom “how nice”. As each package was opened and the instructions were followed we shortly realized that Little Frankie’s family had gathered on Thanksgiving Day in Green Bay to make us “Christmas-in-a-Box”.
There were little presents for everyone, little bags of cookies and home-made fudge, little ornaments to decorate our office and briefing maps. However, the most amazing thing of all was a little pine tree Frankie’s father had cut down by their home. He took it to his workshop and very carefully cut off all its limbs and branches, numbering each little branch with a corresponding number on the hole drilled into the naked tree trunk. Somehow He created a miniature Christmas tree for us to rebuild during our Christmas 15,000 miles away.
Most of us stopped what we were doing as the collective recognition began to spread on all our faces. Some of us cried, a bit, just a little bit, some of us just sat there and sobbed. But they were tears of joy, thankfulness, and home.
Our tree was assembled, our presents passed out, fruit cake, cookies, candy snacks were distributed, and hot apple cider was poured.
As if to express my thanks to Our Lord, I went outside, under the stars, and looked to the East hoping to see that Star that would show all of us the way to home and salvation. I stood there a few moments, quietly, without moving. The events that had transpired warmed me to the bottom of my soul. I felt good, real good and loved, really loved. And I said thank you to God and thank you to everyone and everything that kept us safe throughout our lives. I thought of our troops in the field, celebrating Christmas in a foxhole and eating dinner out of a canteen cup. I remembered what it was like to wash under a rain storm and eat soggy powdered eggs with synthetic ham. I smiled, laughed at little. . . .
And so, there’d been Christmas.