Of the first nine years in the military I spent four Thanksgivings and three Christmases on Alert. I also spent one Christmas Eve on Alert which means I got home sometime in the early afternoon on Christmas Day.
An Alert means in the early morning driving between 35 and 140 miles out into a farmer’s field in nowhere Kansas or North Dakota, going 40 or 70 feet underground and locking ourselves behind and eight-ton blast door with the keys to the ICBMs all the while hoping WWIII didn’t start.
It had to be done and we missed our families dearly while living in a world of unnatural light and the sound of communications gear and assorted mechanical systems taking our hearing away.
During my 20 years I got to go home one time to see my parents for Christmas. I wish it could have been more but the needs of my Country outweighed my wants.
Thank you for your service, FRiend. I knew you would understand the sentiment.
You lived the Honor, Duty, Country credo, and on this Christmas Eve, I thank you, and those like you who make that drive into a cold, desolate, largely untracked American flatland to stand guard while the rest of us, in our houses with windows that are squares of golden light from the outside, get to be with those we love and remember good times.
I hope you get to remember those too, my Friend. Best wishes to you and yours for a very Merry Christmas, and a happy, healthy, and prosperous year in 2023. We can wish it, right?