FORTY ONE


Dec. 25th: 1300 hours

My dear Honoria,

Happy Christmas! It seems strange not to be saying that to you in person on this day. This separation weighs heavily on me. And I miss you, and Mother, and even Father, very much.

It has been a while since I've been able to write to you. We have been so busy for several days, that I have hardly had time to rest; let alone compose a letter. Therefore, I have a variety of topics to cover.

First of all, thank you for the warm bathrobe. It is a very thoughtful and very appropriate gift. I am wearing it now---to keep away the frigid air that insists on blowing through the canvas walls of the Swamp.

Thank you, also, for sending the boxes of candy. Despite numerous obstacles, I did manage to uphold the Winchester Christmas tradition by delivering our donation to the less fortunate. That contribution did not proceed as planned, however.

Instead of the confections being given to the orphans; they were sold on the black market. I was livid when I discovered what had happened! Until I discovered that the money was used to purchase enough rice to feed the children for a month---a more appropriate gift than three boxes of candy, I must admit.

Two days ago, we were caught in the middle of a crossfire. Fortunately, the mortars did not land in the camp---this time. It was not safe to remain in the area, however. So we moved to a nearby cave.

While we were unloading the litters, I remembered that Pierce is deathly afraid of closed-in spaces. As much as I dislike him, I must admit that he handled himself well. He managed to keep his composure until after all of the wounded men were treated. Then, in a cold sweat, and with terror evident on his face, he ran to the entrance of the cave and remained outside.

Sarabeth went out to sit with him. I found it difficult to concentrate on my rounds while she was out there. As soon as my shift was over, I went outside, as well. I brought her some lukewarm soup the mess sergeant had managed to prepare. I was hoping I could convince her to come back inside where it was safer. I didn't expect her to agree to that, however. She seems to know when someone needs comforting. And it was Pierce's turn.

Since she would not leave him, I was not willing to leave her, either. We shared the cup of soup and we talked to pass the time. The whole idea is rather absurd...the three of us, sitting on the cold dirt, wearing our steel helmets and field jackets, listening to the artillery shells explode nearby...all the while discussing everyday, mundane topics.

Although all three of us were exposed to the harsh winter elements, Pierce and Sarabeth do not have a sniffle between them. I, of course, have been bedridden since yesterday with a wretched cold. And, despite my protests, Pierce has assigned a ward nurse to watch over me.

Yesterday, Colonel Potter delivered my Purple Heart medal. I requested it for the injuries I received last month during the shelling of our hospital. My knee still gives me problems, some times. I suppose it always will. As if I needed a reminder of this horrid place.

I am feeling somewhat better, today. And, even better for me, Sarabeth took over the shift for Lieutenant Campbell so that she might participate in the Christmas party occurring in the mess tent.

I was asleep when she arrived. Later, when I awoke, I noticed her staring off into the distance. Judging from her expression, she was miles---probably years---away from Korea. Hearing my movements, she instantly returned to duty. "Caught me," she admitted. She said she was thinking about all the past holidays; and how much love and laughter her family had shared over the years; and how this Christmas was so different from the ones she was used to.

And then, changing topics, she asked me if I was ready to open my presents. My first one was a knit scarf; a very fine, woven one that is now wrapped around my neck.

I asked her to open her gift. She was surprised to see that wonderfully embroidered robe that I wrote to you about previously. She tried it on. Standing there in that off-white kimono with varying shades of green ocean waves leaping upward, she looked like Venus emerging from the ocean.

Her wonderful hair was brushing against her shoulders. And her happy smile was touching my heart. She was so beautiful...that I was stunned. I found myself unable to speak for a moment. Even when I was able to speak, I still couldn't provide exactly the right words to tell her how truly dazzling she was.

She made the comment that she hoped the rats wouldn't chew on the robe. Teasing her, I suggested that perhaps she could teach her canine to catch the rodents. Laughing, he replied that the only thing Ernie was likely to catch was a nap.

Speaking of the cat-napping dog, he scratched at my door earlier. He was shivering and looking so pitiful that I told Campbell to allow him to come inside. And, I will admit, I encouraged him to hop onto Pierce's cot. He is still sleeping peacefully in that very spot. I'm hoping the pup won't acquire too many of Pierce's parasites.

My favorite Texan's gift to me was a set of three, small, carved ivory sailing ships. There are such exquisite details in those carvings! I had admired them in one of the shops we visited. I wasn't aware that she had purchased them; however, I am glad that she did.

That same shop was where she found the figurine of the father and child for Hunnicutt. I think he will be very pleased with that present. She also found a pen and ink drawing of a ship in a stormy sea with a lighthouse beacon shining in the distance. She claimed that it was perfect for Pierce. I told her that he would probably rather have a subscription to some nudist magazine. But she said that he needed the promise of a safe haven. I'm not certain what she meant by that.

Sarabeth hesitated to give me my last gift. She said that Mulcahy had intended it as a morale booster but she wasn't certain if I should open it right now. She also said that you had instructed us to never mention it to either of our parents; and that I was to treat it very gently because it was only one in existence.

Filled with both curiosity, and a strange sense of dread, I removed the lid to that box. My hands trembled when I saw that photograph of the three of us. I showed it to Sarabeth and explained that it was taken right before Timothy died…possibly even that same day. I do seem to remember our housekeeper taking a picture of us before we went ice skating on that terrible day.

Sarabeth listened as I told her how we were playing 'crack the whip'; and how the two of you had been slung further out onto the pond; and how you both fell through the ice; and how I managed to pull you out; and how I tried but I couldn't…I couldn't reach him.

I nearly lost my composure at that point. But that dear, sweet lady was there for me. She held my hand and talked to me. I don't remember all of what she said but I do know that her presence and her touch were comforting to me.

The things I do remember her saying was that the pain and sadness would never completely go away but the happy memories, the good times, were what I had to focus on. She also reminded me about the incident I had once told her about---when we were sledding and had fallen off the sled and had rolled down to the bottom of the hill, laughing the entire way. Those were the kind of things she said I had to remember.

I am surprised that photograph still exists. After his passing, you know how Father gathered up everything of Timothy's; all his clothes, his toys, and every picture that he could find; and threw them all away. I wonder how you managed to hide this one from him all these years. I am grateful that you did. And, I am pleased you sent it to me.

I am also very glad that Sarabeth was here to share it with me. It is ironic that I can share something with her that haunts my very soul; and yet, I can not express my feelings for her. I have told her how much I value her friendship. But, I can not tell her that I care for her.

And now, it is another opportunity lost. Her shift has ended. She said she had to work on some reports but that she wished she could stay with me. So do I.

Lieutenant Parnelli has taken her place. She is reading some letter over and over again.

I have more I want to tell you. However, I am growing tired. I'll write again soon. Happy Christmas! My thoughts are with you today...even if I can not be there.

Love,

Charles