Christmas, 1941

Source

Cadet Nathan Paddock stepped off the train into the bitter cold of a December day in New Hampshire. The weather had been miserable all the way from New York, drizzle and fog were most prevalent. He had hoped to see snow on the ground for Christmas, but it was not to be.

America was at war. In the two weeks since the attack on Pearl Harbor things had settled down somewhat. Initially there had been frantic activity in the nation, people howling for revenge on the perfidious Japanese, but not at West Point, The cadets knew how woefully unprepared the Army was for total war. It would take time to get ready. Time, Paddock wondered, if events would afford.

He wanted to leave the Academy and enlist, a couple of his classmates already had. The upperclassmen urged them to stay, but the perceived need to do something, anything, was strong in the younger cadets.

"I tell ya, Paddock, there's no sense rushing off to get killed. Hell, they might even accelerate the courses here because one thing a bigger army is going to need is officers, lots of officers. Wait, get your education."

Burt Thompson was a "Cow," a second classman at West Point, he was one of his company's sergeants and Paddock looked up to him. He'd asked the upperclassman for advice on staying or enlisting immediately. It had been his advice to talk to his family before committing one way or the other. Christmas break was upon them.

"Don't make any rash decisions, kid."

Paddock heard his name called, he looked up, it was his Uncle Bill.

"Ain't you a pretty picture, Nate. That uniform looks good on you, course, I can't say I like the gray, you kinda look like a Johnny Reb."

Paddock blushed then laughed, Uncle Bill had been a Marine in the Great War, he still limped from the wound he'd received in the Argonne Forest. He was also, like Paddock's father, a keen student of history.

Paddock was enveloped in a bear hug, it felt good to be home.

Paddock saw his Mom's eyes glistening in the light of the family Christmas tree. She was happy to see her only son, but she was sad as well. She knew that her much loved child might have to go to war, and soon.

"You sure you won't have another slice of pie, Nathan?" she asked.

"Ah, no thank you, Mom. If I eat anymore, I think I'll burst."

"Alright now, you go on to the den, I'm sure your Father and Uncle want to hear all about West Point."

Paddock didn't think so, but he went anyway, he wanted the advice of both men.

His father was adamant, "You will, under no circumstances, leave West Point to enlist. Are you out of your mind? The Army is going to need officers, good ones."

Uncle Bill stirred, "Your Dad's right, Nate. If you enlist you'll just be cannon fodder, a rifleman. Stick to the schooling, I knew a couple of West Pointers during the war. Good men, one of 'em didn't come home, the other won himself a bunch of medals, but more importantly, he helped his men survive, got them home in one piece. I'm with your Dad, stay."

Paddock sipped his coffee, it felt strange to be here, at his parent's house, sipping coffee, when a large part of the world was at war. Soon the United States would be sending men out to fight as well. He wanted desperately to be a part of that. But he knew his father and uncle were right. If the Army needed him now, they knew where he was.

And so that was that, he'd stay at West Point.

Leutnant Jürgen von Lüttwitz, took a last sip of the potent beverage Schütze Dessauer had managed to bring all the way from France. It wasn't great cognac, but it was probably the best cognac within ten kilometers of their dugout. He doubted there was any cognac at all in Leningrad, the city they were besieging.

He pulled his blanket tighter around him, though the dugout had a small stove, it didn't take much to be reminded that he was in Russia, hundreds of kilometers from home, at Christmas. He missed his family and hadn't heard from them in a few weeks. Mail delivery could be difficult at the front, he knew that. But nothing? In weeks?

He was more concerned with his men, none of them had received any mail in the same time period. Morale was a fragile thing, people couldn't conceive how much a single letter could raise spirits.

At that moment a figure came through the heavy curtain sealing the entrance to the dugout, "Jürgen, are you here?"

Von Lüttwitz shook the blanket off and stood, "I'm here, Herr Major."

"Bad news, I'm afraid, I couldn't find anything to bring for Christmas."

Von Lüttwitz laughed, "There's some cognac in that canteen," he gestured towards the small table next to the stove, "help yourself."

Major Kurt Hassel grinned, somehow his boys always seemed to manage.

"Prosit!" Hassel offered as he took a swig of cognac.

Von Lüttwitz tipped his empty cup to his battalion commander, "Prosit, Herr Major."

Stephen Hernandez felt totally out of his depth. He was on a crowded train headed, as near as he could tell, east. Had to be east as the land was rolling and there seemed to be nothing for mile after mile. He figured they had to be in Kansas, they certainly hadn't gone west through the Rockies.

The Army had put him and a couple hundred other new recruits on the train, they were off to basic training. Where? He had no idea.

He decided to catch forty winks, one thing a teacher had told him stood out.

"Stephen, when you get to the Army, sleep whenever you get the chance. Trust me, after a while you'll be able to sleep anywhere at any time. Do so, you won't regret it."

As he settled back in his seat, he glanced out the window. There were no lights and nothing to see anyway, just the vast spaces of the Great Plains. He fell asleep wondering where he was going. Wondering if he'd ever see home again.