Home For Christmas

1944 is nearing its end and our boys are still not home.  The past nearly three years have brought so much sadness to this valley.  All our young men are off fighting the war.  Our own son, Andy, enlisted last year.  Andy didn't want to wait to be drafted, so he and his friend Billy Legg enlisted as soon as they were of age.  This past year has been the longest of my life.  I feel as though I have aged ten years.  So many families here have been touched by this war.  The Pigg’s son, George, was killed at Pearl Harbor.  The Kilgore’s lost their son, James.  He was killed in North Africa back in November of 1942.  Billy Legg got killed at place called Anzio back in January.  After the D-Day Invasion in the summer, I attended three funerals in one day.  Two of the boys were brothers.  The other boy left behind a wife and a son that he never got to see.  I think about my own brother buried somewhere over in France where he died fighting in the Great War, the one they told us would be the one to end all wars.

I pray every night for the strength and comfort from the Lord, but my heart is still bowed so low in sorrow.  I'm afraid that my faith is failing in me.  I live in dread of that telegram saying that Andy was killed in some place I didn't even know existed.  I try not cry when Herschel is around.  I know he feels the same and I am trying to be strong for him.  I try to take my mind off of Andy, I try take my mind off myself, by doing whatever I can do to help.  I do whatever I can to try to bring some comfort to the mothers here in the valley who know that their boys are never coming home.  Herschel tries to lose himself in his work.  He’s been raising peanuts along with his tobacco and corn for the last two seasons.  He says they make oil out of them to use in making nitro-glycerin somewhere down in Alabama.

Andy writes as regular as he can.  He can't tell me where he's at or tell much about what he's doing, but at least I know he's alive.  For some reason though, he has been a lot longer between letters than usual.  Herschel tells me not to worry, but I can tell that He's worried.  I keep writing Andy every week though, hoping my letters are getting to him, hoping that he is alive.  Every night I pray that he is alive and that he will come home to us.  Is the Lord listening to me or has he turned away from me because my faith has wavered.  Please Father, bring my Andy back home.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, but I'm afraid there won't be much to be thankful for.  This will be our second Thanksgiving now without our Andy.  It makes me particularly sad because Thanksgiving was Andy's favorite day, even above Christmas.  Herschel finished his chores early this morning and went off hunting.  He was hoping to kill a turkey for dinner tomorrow.  I packed him the biscuits and ham left over from breakfast to eat for his dinner.  I guess if he don't get one, I’ll have to wring an old hen's neck instead.  I put on some pinto beans for our supper this evening and I made a molasses cake and sweet potato pie for our desert tomorrow and left them to cool on the table.  I wanted to make more deserts because Herschel loves sweets, but we ran out of sugar and we've got no more ration stamps.

About noon every day, I start looking for our mailman.  Mister Hall is our mailman.  He has a son in the service over in Australia.  I sit on the front porch every day waiting on him to come delivering the mail.  In our window hangs a Blue Star Service Banner.  Just a small banner with a blue star in the center of a white field and a red border around the outside.  It's just like the one that hangs in the Legg family's window, except theirs has a gold star instead of blue.  It's cold today, so I pull my coat up tighter trying to keep the cold wind out from around my neck.  I should be inside where it is warm.  I cant afford to get sick, but I hope today is the day that Andy's letter comes.  Our house is at the top of a hill, so I can easily see a mile down the road.  I look down the road toward the Legg’s farm, which is the stop right before us.  Finally I see Mr. Hall's green Chevrolet coming up the road.  He stopped at he Legg’s mailbox and then started up the hill towards our house.  I began walking towards the mailbox, but Mr. Hall didn't stop again today.  He waved as he drove on up the road to his next mail stop.  My heart sank, and falling down on my knees and I cry.  I cry until there was nothing left inside me to cry anymore.  I'm all used up, but I've got to pull myself back together before Herschel gets home.  I went back inside and made up a skillet of cornbread and put it in the oven and put taters on to boil.  I sit down in front of the stove in the front room and soon find myself singing “What a Friend We Have In Jesus�? one of my favorite hymns.

Herschel got home from hunting just before dark.  He didn't get nothing but cold.  I know he could tell that I had been crying, but he didn't say nothing.  He just took my face between his big rough hands and kissed me, then pulled me close in a big bear hug.  We sat down and ate our beans and taters and cornbread.  He helped me clear the dishes.  Then he went into the front room and sat down in his rockingchair next to the Aladdin's lamp with his Bible.  I poured him a glass of buttermilk and brought it to him with a piece of cornbread.  I could hear him whispering a pray as I was coming into the room, and when I set the bread and milk on the table next to him I could see the track of tears on his face.  His heart was breaking too, but he wouldn't say nothing about it.  He was trying to be strong for me.   I sat down in my chair on the other side of the table and began my Bible reading, but I was soon interrupted by the sound of a car in our yard.  Herschel picked up a lantern, lit it, and went out on the porch.  Coming up path from the road was Mr. Hall with a letter in his hand.

“Mrs. Hall found this letter after I left out this morning.  It had got separated from the other mail�? he said excitedly.  “I knew that you must be anxious for it, so I made a special trip out here so you wouldn't have to wait till Friday for it.�?/SPAN>

I couldn't help myself.  When I saw the return address on the letter I just wrapped my arms around that man's neck and wept for joy.  I showed the envelope to Herschel and he nearly lifted Mr. Hall off’n his feet in a big hug.  I asked Mr. Hall to come in for a piece of cake, but he declined.

“I've got to get back home to Mrs. Hall.  She was all upset when she found that letter because she knew how much you must have been looking for it.  Ya’ll folks have a happy Thanksgiving.�?/SPAN>

We stood on front porch and watched as his lights disappeared down the road.  Then we went back in to read Andy's letter.  Herschel opened the envelope with his pocket knife and began to read aloud.
 

“Dear Momma and Dad,

I am sorry I have worried you being so long in writing, but I couldn't help it.  You see, I have been in the hospital here in England for a few weeks.  My dog tags got lost, and I was not able to tell them who I was for while either.  We were trying to hold a bridge with our tank killer against a column of Panzers.  The gun crew poured shot after shot into the German tanks while I blazed away at their grenadiers with the .50 caliber, but we were out numbered.  A shell hit our tank killer and I was thrown from the turret.  I am sad to say that the rest of my buddies were killed.  Reinforcements came in time the stop the Germans though.  The Doctors say that I will be fine, but I’ll be carrying a piece of metal in my back for the rest of my life.  There is a piece of shrapnel that is so close to my spine that they said that they would do more damage taking it out than it would ever cause.  They said that it will probably always give some pain, but it shouldn't slow me down too much.  They gave me a Purple Heart and my C.O. has put in for me to receive the Silver Star, but now they say that they are going to send me home.  It's not the way I wanted to come home.  I wanted to see this war through to its end.  I am looking forward to being with you all again though.  I miss you all and home so much.  The Doctors say that I am doing well enough that I should be able to ship out in time to be home by Christmas.  Don't stop praying for me.  I’ll see you all soon.
 

Love,
 

Andy�?/SPAN>
 

Herschel couldn't read the last lines of the letter, so I finished it for him.  It is the first time I can ever remember Herschel crying in front of me.  We embraced for a long time crying for joy.  Tomorrow was truly going to be a day of Thanksgiving.  Our boy was alive, and he was going to be home for Christmas.