In my wildest dreams, I never imagined a Christmas like this one. Korea. 1952. My first Christmas away from home. The coldest December I’d ever experienced, in a country fighting to defeat Communism–something I’d studied in high school just two years earlier. Somehow, I’d strayed from my platoon. In the heat of battle, as we tried to outflank the enemy, I drifted too far and was left alone as the skirmish ended and night fell on this Christmas Eve. I was lost and alone, and it was highly unlikely anyone from my unit was looking for me.

Knowing the night would only get colder, I set about building a makeshift shelter. Using a thin-edged, flat rock as a trowel, I fashioned a shallow depression in the frozen ground, thinking the more of my body I had in contact with the ground, the better off I’d be. I gathered tree fall and stacked limbs against a tree trunk in teepee fashion–a somewhat futile attempt to shield myself from the wind. After eating the last of my rations and drinking just enough water to quench my thirst, I pulled my coat close to my neck, shoved my hands into my coat pockets, and settled into what I hoped wasn’t a shallow grave.

If I survived the night, I’d try to reconnect with my unit in the morning. For now, I was alone, with nothing but the night sounds to keep me company. The wind whistled and an occasional animal howled. Those noises and the bone-chilling cold made sleep nearly impossible. My mind drifted home to my mom and dad, my friends, and the simpler life I enjoyed before I enlisted. Like every GI I knew, I was homesick, and that only magnified my loneliness.

Then, I heard it. The unmistakable sound of frozen leaves and twigs crunching under footsteps. Or, was it my imagination? Suddenly, the noise stopped. Despite my predicament, I smiled at my paranoia. Someone else stranded out here in the woods? Unlikely.

One of my makeshift shelter’s limbs moved, and an eye peered through the space. I locked eyes on my intruder and reached for my weapon. He stuck his head inside and said, “Johnny?” It was Gabe, my high school classmate. We’d both joined the Army within a year of finishing high school. Same infantry division, but different platoons. I’d not seen him since we landed in Korea.

“Gabe, what in the world are you doing out here?”

“I guess you could say I kinda got separated from my unit, and here I am. But I could ask you the same question, Johnny.”

“In the middle of a skirmish with the enemy, I got careless. Separated myself from the other guys in all the commotion. Once the smoke cleared, it got dark quickly and I couldn’t find my way back. Figured I’d hunker down for the night and look for them in the morning. Come on in and join me.”

Gabe and I were best buddies in high school…until that night. My senior year, I parked cars at the only upscale restaurant in our town. One night, a couple pulled up in a red Thunderbird. You know, a real looker. When my shift ended, they were still in the restaurant, so I decided to take the car for a joy ride. I stopped by Gabe’s house, told him it belonged to my uncle, and asked him if he wanted to go for a ride. One thing led to another and we got pulled by a cop, arrested for grand theft auto, booked, and stuck in jail overnight. Before Gabe was absolved of any involvement in the caper, word got back to the college that had offered him a scholarship and they revoked his only ticket to higher education. Me? I was a below average student and planned to work for my dad’s plumbing business. The only trouble I had was with my old man. He was furious, of course. Gabe and I’d hardly spoken since, and I couldn’t blame him. And now we were together in the middle of Nowheresville, Korea.

“Don’t mind if I do, Johnny,” he said as he shuddered, entered the shelter, and put the tree limbs back in place. “I’ve got a wool blanket and some rations in my pack. Seems like we’ll need both tonight.”

We sat close to each other, hoping our body heat and Gabe’s blanket would ward off the bitter cold. As we munched on some of his rations, my mind again went back to that high school prank. “Gabe, there’s something I need to say that I should’ve said a long time ago.”

“I’m listening.”

“I wanna apologize for getting you in trouble for being in that borrowed car. It was all my fault, but you paid the greater price, what with losing your scholarship and all.”

“You know, Johnny, no big deal. Turns out I’d have ended up enlisting anyway, even if I still had the chance to go to college. What I’m trying to say is, I forgive you.”

I was stunned. “So, that’s it…you just, uh, forgive me? Even though I don’t deserve it?”

“It’s called grace–getting what you haven’t earned and don’t deserve. But Johnny, there’s one more thing. You’ve got to accept it. Maybe even pass it on when you have the chance.”

I nodded slowly.

“Listen, my friend. Why don’t we get some sleep? You’ve got an early day tomorrow if you’re gonna try to find your way back to your unit.”

We lay down, back-to-back, and shared the blanket. I fell asleep thinking about what had just happened. The following morning, I woke to shards of early sunlight making their way through the limbs of the shelter. I sat up and looked around. Gabe was gone, but he’d left behind his blanket and rations. Strange. Maybe he’s out gathering wood for a fire. I wrapped the blanket around me and stepped out of the shelter. He was nowhere to be found.

I traipsed through the woods, unsure of which direction to take. By chance, I stumbled upon a dirt road–likely an old logging trail repurposed for foot soldier traffic–and followed it, all the while staying in the protective cover of nearby trees. Suddenly, I heard voices. American voices. It was my unit. I approached my second lieutenant and explained what had happened. He nodded and said, “Fall in. We’re headed back to base camp. Got a twenty-four-hour ceasefire. It’s Christmas Day, soldier.”

A few hours later, we were back at camp. It was good to be “home,” or as close to home as I’d get before we shipped back to the States. Gratefully, I climbed into my tent, set my backpack on the platform floor, and stretched out on my cot. Exhausted, I fell asleep quickly, and didn’t wake up until my tent mate walked in with our mail.

“Got your mail when I picked up mine, Johnny.”

There wasn’t much. A few standard notices from the U.S. Army, stubs of paychecks sent home to my parents, and a letter from my mom. I quickly opened it. Tears formed as I read, but my jaw dropped when I reached the end.

My dearest son,

I hope this letter makes its way to you by Christmas, and your father and I trust that it finds you safe and well. The reports we hear tell us the war is going nicely, if that’s a word appropriate to use for such a thing as war. My prayer is that you and all the boys will come home soon. Christmas won’t be the same without you. Your place at the table will be set, but the chair will remain empty. Our gifts to you will sit wrapped until you’re home and can open them. That will be a day of great joy and celebration. May God be with you, my son.

Love,

Mom

P.S. One more thing, Johnny. I’m so sorry to end on such a sad note, but I feel you should know. Your old friend from high school, Gabe, was shot and killed in action a few days before Thanksgiving. His parents were told he died instantly and without suffering.