Sandy and Christmas Memories

Across the Fence #369

What’s your earliest memory of Christmas? Looking way back, my first memory of Christmas is hoeing tobacco with my cousin, Sandy. I couldn’t have been very old, because I still believed in Santa Claus. Sandy, being three years older and wiser when it came to the mysteries of the universe, suddenly dropped a grenade at my feet that literally blew my world apart that day.

Even though it was a hot summer day, our conversation had turned to Christmas and Santa. Sandy suddenly proclaimed, “There is NO Santa Claus, Uncle and Auntie are Santa Claus.” You can imagine my horror at hearing such a blasphemous statement. In that moment my world started collapsing around me and the sky began falling. If you have my second book, “Across the Fence: Down Country Roads,” you can read the full story on page 131.

Thank goodness my mother came up with answers to all the questions that Sandy had brought up. They were such great answers, I still believe in Santa today! I guess you couldn’t see me wink as I wrote that line.

But, is it any wonder that I remembered where I was and what I was doing at such a moment. It’s just like we remember where we were when President Kennedy was shot, and when the attacks on 9-11 occurred. Traumatic experiences always leave an imprint on our memories.

Many years after that traumatic experience in the tobacco field, Sandy and I found ourselves alone, and far from home and our families, during Christmas in 1965. I was in basic training in the army at Fort Lewis, Washington. We were halfway through basic and weren’t allowed to go home for Christmas. It was like we were in prison and it’s not one of my best Christmas memories. Not only were we “prisoners” during Christmas and New Years, but it was a zero week–it didn’t count since it was holiday time for most personnel who weren’t in basic. That meant we’d spend an extra week in basic training.

On Christmas Eve day it snowed and rained while we were marching all morning. It was really miserable and we got soaked. The snow didn’t stay on the ground. It just turned to slush and our white Christmas quickly disappeared.

That evening we were marched in formation, to and from the Christmas Eve service at one of the chapels on the base. That’s about the only thing that reminded us that it was Christmas. What a joke. I remember how sad everyone was as we sat through that service. It was the saddest Christmas I’ve ever spent. It was even worse than spending Christmas in Vietnam.

On Christmas day, the sergeants let us sleep in until 0600. That was late for us. After pushups and pull-ups we got to eat breakfast. Then we were herded back to our barracks and ordered to GI and spit-shine the barracks and latrines. When everything was to the Sergeant’s liking, I got to march our platoon around our company area for police call. After that we got to stay in our barracks and take it easy until noon.

Sandy was also at Fort Lewis during this time. We weren’t allowed to make or receive phone calls during basic training, so I wasn’t able to see or talk with her. Her husband, Lou Wagner, was an officer with the 1st Cav Division. They had trained at Fort Lewis before being shipped to Vietnam, where he was spending that Christmas, far from home and his family. Sandy and other wives were living on post while their husbands were gone. This is what Sandy later wrote about that Christmas day:

“When Karl (their son) was five months old, Lou’s company shipped out for Vietnam and I stayed on post with Karl. Howard was at Fort Lewis for basic training at that time. Lou was in Vietnam, it was Christmas, I was alone, and wanted very much to spend some time with my cousin. For some reason, the basic trainees were not allowed any visitors. After some serious phone calls, tears, and threats, I was finally able to spend some time with Howard on Christmas day. That was a real sad time for both of us. Seeing each other for a short time, was the only bright spot in that Christmas season.”

I did get to see Sandy for a short visit that afternoon. After being told on the phone that she couldn’t see me, she came to Battalion Headquarters and talked to the O.D. (Officer of the Day), and explained that her husband was in Vietnam and I was the only relative she had around. She said she also shed some crocodile tears for him. The O.D. finally relented, and gave her permission to see me for a short time in a conference room. An armed guard came to our barracks and I was escorted by him to where Sandy was. He stayed with us while we got to visit for about fifteen minutes, and then he escorted me back to my barracks–a distance of about one block! That night we got to watch training films about the Vietnam War.

I echo Sandy’s words, seeing each other for a short time, was the only bright spot in that Christmas season. Santa brought us a great gift that day… a short visit. Even Sandy had to believe in him after that.

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