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THE FIRST AMERICAN CHRISTMAS

"Gen McDougall

Head Quarters, Newtown 28th December 1776.

I have yours of the 27th and am sorry that Affairs bore so bad an Aspect in your Quarter at that time. But I hope that the late Success at Trenton on the 26th and the Consequence of it, will change the face of Matters not only there but every where else. I crossed over to Jersey the Evening of the 25th about 9 miles above Trenton with upwards of 2000 Men and attacked three Regiments of Hessians consisting of fifteen hundred Men about 8 o'Clock next Morning. Our Men pushed on with such Rapidity that they soon carried four pieces of Cannon out of Six, Surrounded the Enemy and obliged 30 Officers and 886 privates to lay down their Arms without firing a Shot. Our Loss was only two Officers and two or three privates wounded. The Enemy had between 20 and 30 killed. We should have made the whole of them prisoners, could Genl. Ewing have passed the Delaware at Trenton and got in their Rear, but the ice prevented him. I am informed that Count Donnop with the remainder of the Army below Trenton, decamped immediately upon this News, and is on his march towards South Amboy. Generals Mifflin, Ewing and Cadwallader have already passed over to Jersey with a Capital Force and I shall follow with the Continental Regiments as soon as they have recovered from the late Fatigue which was indeed very great.

I hope you, Sir, GenI. Maxwell to whom I have wrote, Colo. Vose, Colo. Ford and every Gentleman who is well affected will exert themselves in encouraging the Militia and assuring them that nothing is wanting, but for them to lend a hand, and driving the Enemy from the whole province of Jersey

Pray watch the motions of the Enemy, and if they incline to retreat or advance, harass their Rear and Flanks But at all Events endeavour to collect a Body of men to be ready to join me, or act otherwise as occasion may be.

Your son was mentioned among the first of our prisoners that I demanded in Exchange, but Genl. Howe (or Mr. Loring in his Absence) Sent out others than those I demanded. I have remonstrated to him upon this head and have assured him that I will send in no more prisoners till he sends out the paroles of the Officers taken in Canada.

I am dear Sir

Your most obt Servt

G. Washington"

Merry Christmas From Inside Iraq

From the Wheeling (WV) Intelligencer, Dec. 25, 2004.

Editor's note: The following letter is from Staff Sgt. Brett Ledfors, a U.S. Marine currently stationed in Ramadi, Iraq. Ledfors was born in Wheeling and is serving in Iraq with Moundsville resident Sgt. Daniel Ealy.

As a Marine serving in Iraq and someone born at Wheeling Hospital, I'd like to take this opportunity to wish the citizens of West Virginia a Merry Christmas while sharing a true story. News we get from home sometimes seems quite grim as far as the war. When I initially considered writing to a newspaper about the war, I wanted to show the progress being made here. I looked at the various positive signs from Iraq's growing economy, to the training of their security forces that's humming right along, to our growing success at combating the insurgent threat. Until a few days ago, nothing jumped out at me until Bravo Company Marines patrolled to an anonymous grid coordinate in a city called Ramadi.

The second platoon of B Company, a reserve unit based in Pittsburgh, regularly patrols a suburban area with one to two story buildings, few paved, and many dirt roads. Herds of sheep, palm trees and canals fed by the Euphrates River crisscross the landscape. Throughout this area are two things that aren't native; U.S. troops and the bad guys (mostly non-Iraqi) they hunt. We refer to the bad guys as AIF (Anti Iraqi Forces), the Muj (short for Mujahadeen), or simply insurgents. The insurgents are rarely seen, but assert themselves by mortaring us regularly, with the occasional improvised explosive device and small arms fire to keep us on our toes. With that kind of negative attention, the average Iraqi citizen often avoids contact with Marines so as not to be victimized by insurgents. This setting led to my revelation as to what positive thing I could share with the readers of The Intelligencer.

During our patrol led by Sgt. Dan Ealy, who lives near Wheeling, we had a beautiful experience. As Ealy guided our heavily armed column through narrow back alleys, we stopped for a short security halt to look and listen for anything unusual. Our column consisted of heavily armored HMMWVs (replacement for the jeep), with Marines walking amongst them for mutual support. As I looked around the area, I saw several children tentatively watching us from behind a fence. A quick scan of the area showed nothing suspicious, so I approached the kids who eyed me warily. The kids' demeanor changed to tentative smiles as one of my hands left my rifle and pulled candy out of a pocket. The first few children excitedly took the candy and ran around a corner, then the dam broke. A rush of children swirled into our patrol painting a picture of some stern Marines standing guard while others gave candy to kids. Shortly after this, the kids' fathers came out to meet us. They thanked us for the kindness to their children. Even more rare, we could see some of the women smiling at us from a respectable distance. That was something positive indeed. The women being out and interacting with us showed a great deal of progress in this part of the world. What followed could have been a visit among friends. Before I knew it, instead of a rifle in my hand, I had a cup of sweet tea that my new friend Mohammed brought for me and several other Marines.

As it turned out, Mohammed appreciated the simple kindness we showed his children and then the respect we showed him when he arrived. We stood there almost as neighbors sharing hot tea on a cold day making small talk as best we could with the language barrier. All good things must come to an end, so we eventually parted. As we continued on with our patrol though several very poor children had candy that they'd rarely had in their lives, while some very cold Marines had hot tea in their bellies. We shared those things not as Muslims and Christians or civilians and Marines, but as people, pure and simple.

After our patrol returned to base, I shed my ammunition and body armor to sit down to the more mundane side of operations that it seems no profession can escape: the paperwork. As I dated the after action report, it hit me; it's only a few days before Christmas. The symbolism of our encounter with those Iraqis a few days before a holiday symbolic of togetherness didn't escape me as I realized what a sign of hope that simple encounter brought. A cup of coffee tried to warm me from the cold local winter as I replayed that positive experience in my mind. That coffee, however, didn't warm me nearly as much as Mohammed's tea still did hours later.

Staff Sgt. Brett Ledfors
2nd Platoon, "Iron City"
1st Marine Division
Ramadi, Iraq

A Soldier's Christmas
written by a Marine
Twas the night before Christmas,
He lived all alone ,
In a one-bedroom house made of
Plaster and stone.

I had come down the chimney
With presents to give,
And to see just who
In this home did live.

I looked all about,
A strange sight did I see,
No tinsel, no presents,
Not even a tree.

No stocking by mantle,
Just boots filled with sand,
On the wall hung pictures
Of far distant lands.

With medals and badges,
Awards of all kinds,
A sober thought
Came through my mind.

For this house was different,
It was dark and dreary,
I found the home of a soldier,
Once I could see clearly.

The soldier lay sleeping,
Silent, alone ,
Curled up on the floor
In this one-bedroom home.

The face was so gentle,
The room in such disorder,
Not how I pictured
A United States Soldier.

Was this the hero
Of whom I'd just read?
Curled up on a poncho,
The floor for a bed?

I realized the families
That I saw this night,
Owed their lives to these soldiers
Who were willing to fight.

Soon round the world,
The children would play,
And grownups would celebrate
A bright Christmas day.

They all enjoyed freedom,
Each month of the year,
Because of the soldiers,
Like the one lying here.

I couldn't help wonder,
How many lay alone ,
On a cold Christmas eve,
In a land far from home.

The very thought,
Brought a tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees,
And started to cry.

The soldier awakened,
And I heard a rough voice,
"Santa don't cry,
This life is my choice;

I fight for freedom,
I don't ask for more,
My life is my God,
My Country, my Corps."

The soldier rolled over,
And drifted to sleep,
I couldn't control it,
I continued to weep.

I kept watch for hours,
So silent and still,
And we both shivered,
From the cold night's chill.

I didn't want to leave,
On that cold, dark night,
This guardian of honor,
So willing to fight.

Then the soldier rolled over,
With a voice soft and pure,
Whispered, "carry on Santa ,
It's Christmas day, all is secure ."

One look at my watch,
And I knew he was right.
"Merry Christmas my friend,
And to all a good night."