December 24, 1944
Christmas Eve
The Ardennes, Belgium, Luxembourg
I stood near the Christmas tree we had put together, admiring it and watching a soldier tie the last of the empty c-ration cans to it as ornaments. A soldier had even managed to cut a star out of a can to place on top of the tree. To someone back home, it might not look great, but it's special to us because it gives us a sense of holiday spirit even though we aren't able to be with our families. In a way, we are with family because being with the soldiers you fight alongside and have gotten to know very well is like being with your second family.
I had received a letter from my mother a couple of days ago, but I couldn't find the courage to open it. It's days like today, days where you're supposed to be with your family, that make me feel really homesick. As I looked at our Christmas tree, I imagined what my family would be up to.
It would soon be morning back home, but I imagined my parents telling my little brother the night before that if he didn't go to sleep, then Santa Claus wouldn't bring him his gifts. He probably tossed and turned from excitement until he eventually dozed off. Since I'm not home, my mother most likely sent my father instead to check if my brother was asleep while she quickly grabbed his gifts from the attic. I smiled to myself imagining my parents placing the gifts under the Christmas tree.
The thought of their Christmas dinner popped into my head and my smile disappeared. This year would make it the second year I wouldn't be at the table with them for Christmas dinner. I wonder how they must've felt last Christmas when they probably hadn't received my letter explaining where I had gone off to yet. I'm sure they were worried, but it also must have been odd, especially for my parents, to have an empty chair at the dinner table that they were used to seeing me sit on, but I'm sure there are other things that haven't felt the same since I left.
Will the war continue on through 1945? Will I be gone once again from the dinner table next year? Or will I end up dead on European soil? Who knows, but I really hope this world can find some peace soon.
"Oh, there you are!" I heard Zussman say from behind me. I turned around to see him walking towards me with two canteens in his hands. He was grinning at first, but then his grin disappeared and he looked concerned once he got closer to me. "Why the long face on Christmas Eve? You alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. With it being Christmas time, I'm just really missing home," I answered as I brushed snow that had begun to pile up on the sleeves of my overcoat due to the light snowfall occurring. He then handed me my canteen and I thanked him. The warmth coming from the coffee inside my canteen felt nice as I held it in my hands.
"Same here. My family doesn't celebrate Christmas though. We've always celebrated Hanukkah*, but now that I think about it, both of the holidays are sort of similar. Growin' up, my parents would give me gifts and my Ma' would make a good meal for us, but the most important part of it all was that we were together. I'd say that's an important part of Christmas too, right?" He asked.
"Yeah, it definitely is. To know my family and myself lived to see another year is something I always take a moment to be thankful for around this time."
"I like the way you think." He placed his arm around my waist as we both looked at the Christmas tree in front of us.
"If you don't mind, could you tell me more about Hanukkah? I don't know much about it," I said.
"Yeah, of course. For one thing, my family never had one of these in our home." He gestured towards the Christmas tree. He then got down on one knee and began to draw something in the snow with his finger. I leaned down next to him and examined his drawing. "What we do have in our home is a menorah*. It's basically one of those candle holders but it holds eight candles. That's because unlike Christmas, Hanukkah lasts eight days and on each of the eight nights of the holiday, we light a new candle. I remember I would beg my Ma' to let me light the candles. She was hesitant 'cause she didn't trust my kid self with fire, but she would always give in eventually and it sure made me happy."
"That reminds me of how I used to beg to place the star on top of our Christmas tree. My father would have to lift me up and I would feel so proud of myself afterward even though there were a few times where I did almost knock over the tree." I let out a chuckle.
"You ain't alone there. I almost knocked over the menorah a few times. It's no wonder my Ma' didn't trust me with fire," he said as we both stood up. He went back to looking at the Christmas tree before asking, "So, how do you usually spend your Christmas?"
"Most of the time, it's just my parents, my brother, and I together, but we have had family from Wisconsin come and visit us. That doesn't happen very often though. Now that I'm older, I like to help my mother bring my brother's gifts down from the attic. I also like to help her in the kitchen on Christmas day. After we watch my brother open his gifts, her and I spend most of the morning and afternoon in the kitchen preparing our meal.
"I think the way we spend Christmas is rather simple; We eat a nice meal together, enjoy each other's company, and we always finish our night with coffee and homemade apple pie which I make now since my mother taught me how to."
"That sounds like a nice time. I sure would love to see you workin' your magic in the kitchen someday. I can already picture myself tryin' to help you and you scoldin' me after I screw up," he said and we both laughed.
"I might not be the best teacher, but since you did promise to show me around Chicago if we get back to the states, I promise to teach you some skills in the kitchen. How does that sound?" I asked.
"That sounds like a great time to me. One question: Will there be dessert too?" He winked at me.
"Yeah, I can teach you some baking skills too," I said, acting as if I didn't know what he was referring to.
"No, I meant-"
"You finish that sentence and there won't be any dessert." I interrupted. I looked over at him to see him pretending to lock his lips with a key and I couldn't help but laugh.
"Okay, gross," someone said from behind us. We turned around to see Stiles scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. "I'm now regretting coming over here to tell you two to join us by the fire. Just please leave the flirting over here if you do."
"What's the problem, college? Did you not get much dessert back home?" Zussman asked.
"I'm gonna walk away now." Stiles turned around and took a few steps before stopping in his tracks. "And that's none of your business."
"I'm gonna take that as a no," Zuss whispered to me as we began following Stiles to the fire.
The walk to the fire wasn't a long one. There were five crates placed around the fire that we had put there earlier and Aiello was already sitting on one. Stiles sat on the crate near Aiello, but it was spaced out enough to where he wasn't sitting shoulder to shoulder next to him, otherwise, he probably wouldn't have sat near him. Zussman took the crate near Stiles which left two crates for me to choose from. I could've chosen to sit near Zuss, but I instead chose to sit near Aiello since I figured Daniels would rather sit next to Zussman.
As I sat there, I watched as every breath I released turned into a cloud of smoke. It felt so damn good to be by the fire again. I hadn't even been away from the fire for very long when I was admiring the Christmas tree, yet the cold was quick to attack my face; the only part of my body that was exposed. It was a tingly sort of feeling, almost as if I was being poked in the face with pins and needles. Now that I was by the fire, the tingly feeling had gone away.
We said nothing to each other as we sat there. I figured the boys were probably just enjoying the warmth of the fire like I was. Or maybe they were thinking about home. Like I said before, tonight is one of those nights where the thought of being with your family doesn't leave you alone. I'm sure a lot of soldiers are feeling a little extra homesick tonight.
I was lost in my thoughts as usual and in a bit of a trance as I stared at the fire, but Daniels walking up and sitting on the last crate snapped me out of it. He said nothing and none of us bothered to greet him. Normally, I would be the one greet him, but I chose not to tonight; Sometimes it's better to enjoy the peace and quiet while it lasts.
Now that we were all around the fire, the fair amount of light it provided allowed me to get a good look at my comrades. Their eyes were droopy from lack of sleep and each of them looked like they needed a shave. It was rare they would let their stubble grow out so dark, but they couldn't find time to shave because of all the combat we have been finding ourselves in lately.
When I turned my attention towards Zussman as he stared down at the fire, I realized how good he looked with his facial hair grown out. He looks handsome without facial hair too, but I found it interesting to see this new look on him.
"Hey, Corporal." Aiello broke the silence. "L/N keeps checkin' out Zussman. I think you should yell at her."
"Sorry, Aiello, but I ain't gonna do that."
"But-"
"If any of you care to know, it's 2400*." Stiles interrupted him, looking up from his watch with a close-lipped smile on his face. "Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas, Turner." Daniels held his canteen up to start a toast.
"Oh, and Turner," Aiello paused, holding his canteen up, "Pierson made farmboy over here a Corporal. I wonder what you'd think of that."
Maybe that you should move on already.
"Probably that you're the same old sack 'a shit, Aiello," Zussman said, looking him in the eyes.
"This ain't the time," Daniels scolded before Aiello could say something back, glancing at both of them.
"To Turner," we said in unison as we raised our canteens.
"To Turner!" we heard someone say nearby in a raised voice.
Not just any "someone," but the lovely Pierson. We all turned our heads towards the direction of his voice to see him standing a few feet away with a bottle of alcohol raised in the air.
"Lucky son of a bitch," he said, a slight laugh in his voice towards the end of his statement. He put his arm down, allowing the bottle to rest at his side before taking a few steps towards us. He stopped in his tracks and began to raise the bottle towards his mouth. "You're always first, right?"
We stayed silent, watching him carefully as he took a swig from the bottle.
"Keep eyeballin' me," Pierson continued, his voice gruff.
He started walking towards us and I tensed up as I listened to the crunching sound of the snow each of his footsteps made as he got closer. The swishing of the alcohol in the bottle his hand was holding onto was also unsettling.
"Yeah, get your jollies tonight, boys, because tomorrow when that convoy comes through, you're gonna be on the frontline defending it. And Turner's not gonna be there to defend you!" He rushed forward, kicking snow at the fire and nearly falling on top of it if it weren't for Daniels and Zussman grabbing hold of him.
"Easy!" Daniels said, trying to help Pierson steady himself. Pierson quickly pulled away from Daniels, not wanting any help from him. He fixed his helmet before turning towards Daniels.
"Easy." Pierson walked up close to Daniels. "You're Corporal now, huh. Yeah, let's see how fucking easy it is."
Daniels said nothing but continued to make eye contact with him.
"Go on. Gimme an excuse," Pierson said.
Again, Daniels said nothing, but this time, he looked away and sat back down on his crate.
"Yeah, that's what I thought," Pierson taunted him. He stopped looking at Daniels and turned his attention towards the rest of us. "Six years I served with that man. Six."
"Merry fuckin' Christmas." He began to walk straight ahead, roughly shoving his bottle of alcohol into Aiello's hand. We remained silent as we listened to him walking away.
"Well, that's one way to kill the mood," Aiello spoke once Pierson was nowhere to be seen. He placed the bottle in the snow next to his crate.
"He won't admit it, at least not to us, but he's definitely mourning. It looks to me like he's learning that not even alcohol can help him run away from Turner's death," Stiles said.
Hearing "Turner" and "death" in the same sentence sent a sting through my heart. It made me recall Turner yelling in pain and telling us to leave him. It made me recall the fear of looking back because I didn't want the image of my dead lieutenant in my head.
His death is not something that we pretend didn't happen. It's more so something we choose not to focus on or talk about. We'd much rather cherish the memories we had with him and continue trying to make him proud instead of always remembering his last moments.
"Maybe it'll help you all feel a little better, but my mother sent me a little gift to give to each of you," I said, pulling a small package out of my bag.
"Ah, so the package was for Christmas. I was wondering why you hadn't opened it," Aiello said.
"And you wonder why she makes fun of your schnozz. You're so damn nosy." Zussman said.
"It's funny, really. You call be nosy, yet you seem to always have somethin' to say even when the conversation has nothin' to do with you." Aiello glared at him.
"L/N, you owe me a dollar* 'cause they're about ready to argue," Stiles suddenly said.
"Wait," Aiello looked at Stiles, "you two are bettin' on us?"
"Can you blame us? You two have just proven that you can't even let an hour of Christmas day pass without saying something to each other that's bound to lead to an argument."
"How 'bout you go back to focusin' on that camera of yours because I don't have time to listen to a guy who thinks takin' photographs will get him very far." Aiello gestured towards the camera in Stiles' lap. "You wanna know where runnin' around the battlefield with a camera will get you? In a casket."
I saw Stiles' face harden and he looked away from Aiello, placing his camera in his coat and choosing to look at the fire instead.
"Gosh, Aiello. Do you ever realize how fucked up the shit you say is?" Zussman asked.
"Don't act like you ain't mean to him too."
"Y'know what, you're right. I have said some mean things to him or took my jokes towards him a little too far, but you don't tell your comrade that he's gonna die 'cause you don't know that. Let him keep some hope that he still has his chance to make it home."
"This bickerin' has gotta stop. How 'bout we all just be quiet and be grateful that we're all still together. We should also be grateful that L/N's mother was nice enough to send a gift for us." Daniels looked at me and gave me a small nod.
"Alright, I'm sorry," Aiello mumbled.
"Me too," Zussman said before taking a drink from his canteen.
All eyes were on me as I tried to forget what just happened and opened the package. There were five pairs of wool socks inside and I felt a bit excited to know that I was gonna have an extra pair of socks to store away for future use.
"Merry Christmas, boys," I said as I began to toss each of them a pair.
"Oh man! I really needed a new pair. Please tell your Ma' that me and my feet are sendin' her lots of thank you's." Aiello admired his new socks.
"Tell her 'thank you' for me as well, L/N," Stiles said as he began to put them in his bag.
"And for me, too." Daniels grinned at me.
"To L/N's mother," Zussman said, raising up his canteen and that was followed by the rest of the boys doing the same. I couldn't help but chuckle and I would definitely be telling her about this in the next letter I write to her.
"I know it's Christmas, but we have a long day tomorrow. Try and get some rest," Daniels said as he got up from his crate. "Again, thank you to your mother for the socks, L/N. Merry Christmas."
"Poor guy," I said as we watched him walk off. "Pierson must be stressing him out."
"What did you expect? It's not like Pierson was gonna magically start actin' nice to him once he made him his second." Aiello paused, slinging his bag onto his back. "Probably should've thought about it before becomin' Corporal."
"Daniels will be fine. I know he will. He'll be a better second than Pierson ever was to Turner," Zussman said.
"I think I'll agree with you there." Aiello glanced at Zuss.
"Huh, look at that, L/N, now they're getting along." Stiles said in a dull tone.
"You two never fail to leave me confused," I said.
"It's complicated. Sometimes I feel like I can handle bein' around him, other times I feel like punchin' him in the face." Zussman grinned at him.
"The feelings are mutual. I think that makes us friends." Aiello shrugged.
"Friends? I think you're movin' a little fast there. I like to take things slow, Frank," Zussman joked.
The use of his first name caught Aiello off guard for a few seconds but then a small smile appeared on his face.
"Are you sure about that, Robert? 'Cause I remember you were quick to start flirtin' with L/N durin' basic."
"Okay, but I wasn't a terrible gentleman." Zuss looked at me for reassurance. "Right?"
"A better gentleman than Aiello, that's for sure," I teased. "He couldn't even introduce himself first before saying something rude to me."
"Okay, maybe I was an asshole, but-"
"You still are one," Zuss cut him off and Aiello shot him a look. "Go on. Continue, Frank."
"As I was sayin', I was just pissed off at the time 'cause I had just lost good friends in combat and havin' to leave my family again hurt me a whole damn lot. I know those aren't very good excuses, but I'd say you've proven that you deserve respect. I probably should've been nicer to you." Aiello smirked, glancing at Zuss. "Maybe you would've fallen in love with me instead."
"In your dreams, buddy." Zussman scoffed.
"What's that supposed to mean? I've got charm."
"Eh, you sure about that?"
"I can only tolerate so much of you two together in a day. I'm going to bed." Stiles grabbed his belongings and started to walk off.
"There he goes, usin' his smart words," Aiello said in a low voice, but Stiles still heard him and turned around.
"It's too bad L/N's mother didn't send you a dictionary instead, but don't worry about it, Aiello. If we both survive this war, I'll buy you one myself."
"Golly, ain't that so kind of Stiles?" Aiello asked me and Zuss sarcastically.
"It won't be when I throw it at you." Stiles started walking off again. "Merry Christmas."
"Jeez, what's with you people wantin' to throw stuff at me? First a helmet, now a book," Aiello said.
"Who knows, maybe being hit by a book will make you just as smart as Stiles." Zussman chuckled.
"No thanks to that." Aiello shook his head. "Anyways, I'm gonna go hit the hay. Good night, lovebirds."
"Good night, Frank," Zussman and I said in unison without planning it, making the two of us burst into laughter.
"What the- Okay, I'm leavin' before you two start kissin' or somethin'." Aiello began to walk away.
Zussman made smooching noises as Aiello walked off. Aiello didn't bother turning around, but he did give Zussman the middle finger which made us start laughing again.
"Jeez, what's with Stiles and Aiello bein' grossed out by almost everything we do? There's been too many times where we ain't even tryin' to gross them out, but they think badly of whatever we're doin'," Zussman said as we walked around our camp in search of a place to sleep.
"Something tells me Aiello is jealous that we're able to be together while he can't be with the girl he claims to have waiting for him back home."
"That wouldn't surprise me if it's true, but for someone who says he has a girl back home, he sure don't act like it sometimes."
"He hardly talks about her too. Maybe he isn't taking it serious which I hope isn't the case because he shouldn't be doing that to her," I said.
"Or maybe she isn't real," he said as we found ourselves a tree to sleep by.
The tree wasn't far from our camp but we also didn't have a lot of men from our platoon near us. The only person we had near us was a soldier sleeping by a tree a few feet away from us.
"And what about Stiles? Why do you think he acts that way?" I asked as we both pulled out our rolled up ponchos* from our bags and laid them on the ground.
"Well, like I said earlier, the boy probably doesn't get much action back home and I think he acts grossed out because he doesn't know how to feel about it." Zussman chuckled. "I mean, the boy blushes whenever you even try to mention the thought of him and a girl together. He's like a goddamn grammar schoolboy, realizin' that girls are pretty and that they don't have cooties."
His mention of cooties made me laugh; That darn fake disease that we thought was real during grammar school. Boys believed girls had it and the girls believed the same about boys. Sometimes, we would forget about it, but other times, when we were let out to play, the boys and girls wouldn't dare to play together or we'd chase each other around.
"Well, now that you mention cooties, you can have this tree. I'm gonna go sleep somewhere else," I joked, kneeling down and picking up my poncho from the snow-covered ground.
"Sorry, but that ain't gonna save you. We've been around each other for too long already, so looks like you'll be stayin' here with me for the night." He grabbed my poncho from my hands and placed it back on the ground.
"Great, now my poncho has your cooties too," I whined.
"Here, have some more." He took his bag off his shoulders before reaching in and pulling out his bottle of Old Spice Aftershave. He quickly shook the bottle into his palm before rubbing the drops of aftershave in his hand on my overcoat sleeve with a grin on his face.
"Thanks for that," I said sarcastically as the masculine scent entered my nostrils.
"You're welcome." He put the bottle away.
"I'm really surprised you did that because you men treat that stuff like it's valuable."
"Eh, you might have cooties, but I'm willin' to waste a few drops on you." He gave me a wet kiss on the cheek before sitting on his poncho and using the tree we had chosen to support his back.
"Wow, you're so romantic."
"I know," he said before patting the empty spot next to him. "Now, are you gonna join me or am I gonna have to pull you down here?"
"Of course I'll join you." I took my bag off my back and left it at the end of my poncho so it wouldn't get wet in the snow. I sat down and snuggled up next to him, wrapping my arm around his waist. "After all, you're like a blanket because you somehow feel so warm a lot of the time."
"You sure about that? Does this feel like a warm blanket to you?" He asked before using one hand to move aside my toque and placing the back of his other hand on my neck.
His cold hand immediately made me jump and I released my arm from being around him to grab his arm. When I pulled his arm away from my neck, he started to laugh.
"Alright, Zuss, I hope you like payback," I said and before he could realize what I had said, my hand didn't have a glove covering it and was placed on his neck.
He let out a yelp and now it was my turn to laugh.
"Okay, we're even. No more." He rubbed his neck.
"Alright, you said so yourself, so this better not be a trick."
"My feet and ass are frozen enough, so yes, I promise," he said, making me laugh. "But on a more serious note, next time you write to your Ma', thank her for helpin' my frozen feet out."
"I'll be sure to tell her, don't you worry," I said.
"Y'know, after hearing what you told me about Christmas, I think I'd like to give it a try." He placed his arm over my shoulders, pulling me closer to him.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, if we make it home, I'd like to one day meet your family and I was thinkin' it'd be nice to see how you celebrate Christmas if that's okay with you."
"I'd like that a lot, but under one condition," I said.
"And what is that?"
"I'd like to see how you and your family celebrate Hanukkah."
"Alright, let's add that to our list of deals." He held his other hand out and we shook hands.
"We should get some rest. Long day ahead tomorrow," I said.
"And another day of dealing with Pierson." Zussman closed his eyes, leaning his head against the tree. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
It didn't take long for Zussman to doze off, and as hard as I tried, I couldn't do the same. I sat there watching him sleep peacefully, trying to calm myself down because of this talk about meeting each other's families, yet not knowing what will happen to us tomorrow.
The letter that my mother had sent me was also on my mind. I not only didn't want to open it because of the overwhelming homesickness I was feeling, but also because I didn't want to read something I wouldn't like.
I had finally told her about Zussman in the last letter I sent home. After hearing Zussman had told his mother about me a while back, it took me some time to get the courage to tell mine, but I had finally done it. I had told her a lot about him; How we met, where he comes from, why I enjoy his company.
I wasn't ashamed to tell her. In fact, I feel relieved, but at the same time I'm worried she'll be angry with me because of the situation him and I are in. I especially don't want her thinking I joined the Army to meet a man because that was never what I had planned to do. I really hope she doesn't think that way of me, but I won't know until I stop torturing myself and open the damn letter.
So that's what I decided to do. I slowly removed Zussman's arm from over my shoulders and scooted over to my bag at the end of my poncho. When I pulled out the letter, I took a deep breath before tearing it open.
As I started to read it, I was relieved to not be reading a scolding.
Dear Y/N,
I'm happy to hear that you've met a nice gentleman while in service. After everything that happened before you left, I knew there would be another gentleman out there that would treat you right.
This Robert Zussman sounds like a young man the family and I would love to meet someday. I hope that when you come home, he'll be by your side. Then, we'll properly welcome him into the family rather than only sending him socks.
Even though the air was cold, I felt a sense of warmth as I imagined my family, Zussman, and I at the dinner table, talking and laughing. And knowing Zussman, he would be the one causing the laughter.
There is something about all this that I'm worried about. I often worry that you won't come home, and now that I know about Robert, I'm also worried that you'll one day tell me he's gone. That scares me just as much as I'm scared to receive a telegram about your death not only because of how young he is and how his family will deal with hearing such terrible news, but because I won't be there to comfort you. I would hate for you to feel so alone and sad again.
She already understands the fear I feel at the start of every mission, at the beginning of every day that I have yet to discover if I'll make it through, or whenever Zuss and I talk about what we hope to do, and I didn't even have to tell her. The fear I shut away when I'm dodging death in combat because I can't tell myself that I'll live or aim to be a hero; That's not how being a soldier works. So what exactly is this fear? Not knowing if I'll go home with Zussman or if one of us will go home alone. Then, there's the possibility that the both of us could end up on the list of casualties that continues to grow every day.
I'm not sure if I've told you this, but me and your father had fallen for each other right before he got drafted to Europe. It was late September of 1918 when he got his letter. It was in September when the draft required men of 18 to 45 to register. I remember the both of us were frightened because he had turned 18 that year and he had no choice but to register.
When he got his letter, he acted as brave as he could, promising me that he would come back and that everything would be okay. The war ended in November and even though he was only gone for two months, that short time felt like forever to my young and in love self. I was so scared that I would never see him again.
And that's the same fear I have once again now that you're at war. I really believed that there wouldn't be another war and that I would never have to see your father leave again. Although he didn't have to leave this time, I never imagined it would be because my daughter went off to war instead.
I wish you could be home with us, but what you're doing takes a lot of courage and I hope you know that I'm very proud of you. If I could send you and your platoon an entire Christmas dinner, I would, but for now, I'm sending you lots of love and hope.
There's not a day that goes by that we don't think of you. Your father, brother, and I wish you and your platoon a Merry Christmas! And may the year 1945 bring the war's end and treat you well! We love you very much, Y/N. Write me when you can!
From, your loving mother
There was a knot growing in my throat as I finished reading the letter. My eyes began to water but I managed to hold myself together. Reading my mother's kind words made me feel so loved and I wanted nothing more than to give her the biggest hug.
One of the most important things to a soldier is the letters they receive from their family and their lovers back home. Getting mail is something that can fill you up with joy because you get to hear about what's going on back home, but it can also make you feel lost when you finish reading the words on the paper. You want to go home, but you can't and it makes you want to just cry because you don't know which letter you send out will be your last and which letter will be the last one you read.
As a citizen, it can be a little easier to imagine your future. As a soldier, I find it hard to do that. I feel like I don't know anything about my future and as much as I imagine it, I end up scared that I might be getting my hopes up too much.
When I was a child, I would happily daydream about my future, but now the war makes me feel like I have to be careful about doing that and I hate it. I want to be positive, but there's always those what if's. What if this happens? What if that happens? I wish I could just stop doing that because it doesn't do me any good.
Just as I was about to put away my mother's letter, I realized I wasn't done reading it. There was some more writing at the bottom of the paper.
P.S. I hesitated to tell you this, but I'd much rather you know about it than to feel guilty over not saying anything. Your father isn't doing any better. It's not only that he worries about you, but he's recently developed an illness. He's been having chest pains and he's got a terrible cough. We're not sure what it is, but I'll be taking him to see the doctor soon. I'm sure everything will be okay, but I'll let you know of any news.
I couldn't look at the letter any longer, so I stuffed it in my bag. I almost wished I hadn't realized there was more to the letter. I had read something I didn't like which had worried me before opening the letter, but I hadn't expected it to be about my father.
And as I sat there, trying to control my emotions, there were what if's racing through my mind.
What if everything's not okay? What if there's nothing the doctor can do? What if I never see him alive again?
All I wanted was to silence my thoughts, but I couldn't because I'm here while my family is dealing with a difficult time. There's only so many times my mother can take my father to the doctor before they can't afford it. The only thing I can do is continue sending money their way. I know it'll help, but who knows what treatment my father will need and if it'll be too expensive for us.
My negative thoughts had once again done me no good because I couldn't hold in my emotions. The urge to cry broke down the walls I had built up inside myself to not let out any tears. I bit down on my sleeve to avoid making any noise as the tears streamed down my face. In a way, it felt good to cry instead of letting my emotions build up.
"Hey, why you still up?" I suddenly heard Zussman's groggy voice, making me quickly rub the tears off my cheeks.
"I can't sleep, so I got up for a drink of coffee," I said, clearing my throat before speaking. I hoped he wouldn't realize the slight change of my voice from crying.
"Come here. Maybe I can help you get some rest. There's no way you can go into combat tomorrow without any sleep."
"Okay."
I crawled over to the tree and sat next to him. He placed his arm over my shoulders and pulled me closer to him, so I wrapped my arm around his waist like I had done earlier, feeling as if I was hugging a giant teddy bear. I could smell Old Spice on him as I placed my head on his shoulder. Or maybe it was me, but either way, it was a smell I didn't mind.
There was a mixture of feeling numb, yet okay at the same time spinning around inside of me. Zussman grabbed hold of my hand placed on his side and began to rub circles on top of my palm. Before I knew it, I found it harder to keep my eyes open.
~ ~ ~
Chapter song: "I'll be Home for Christmas (If Only in my Dreams)" by Bing Crosby
~ ~ ~
* "Hanukkah": a Jewish festival/holiday that begins on Kislev 25 (in December, according to the Gregorian calendar) and is celebrated for eight days. Hanukkah reaffirms the ideals of Judaism and commemorates in particular the rededication of the Second Temple of Jerusalem by the lighting of candles on each day of the festival.
* "menorah": a candelabrum used in Jewish worship, especially one with eight branches and a central socket used at Hanukkah.
* "2400": 12:00 am (Midnight)
* "dollar: The purchasing power of $1 in 1944 was about $14.27.
* "poncho":