Posted by Posted by Buffy, his daughter on June 2, 2002:

Text "Far From Home, Soldiers Capture Christmas Spirit By Rolly Dessert Thursday, December 24 1987 It was a quiet afternoon on Christmas Eve, 1950. I was in command of a platoon of infantry soldiers in Korea. We had just finished 30 days of combat. The fighting had bee a harrowing, bitter, rear guard action against the advancing Red Chinese Army. Physically exhausted and bone-tired, we had finally been pulled out of the line and placed in a rest area near Osan, 30 miles south of Seoul. In the fading light of that snowy, cold afternoon, my soldiers were returning from their first hot shower in more than a month. Their spirits were high as they quickly began to recover after a day's rest. Someone had built a big bonfire in the center of our bivouac area. Soon all of us were gathered around its welcome warmth and crackling flames. There we sat, eating C-rations and drinking hot cocoa. That simple meal was enough to keep us buoyed up for awhile. North of us we could hear the deep rumble of our artillery. We could see the sky reflecting both a Korean sunset and the red flare of shells landing on the enemy. Their crunching sounds echoed around the hills of Seoul. In tow days I would lead these 40 soldiers back into combat. That unspoken thought was in all our minds, as we sat there around the fire, 9,000 miles away from our home. All we had were our lives and each other. We felt isolated and remote from all we loved and held dear. After supper our blue mood returned and deepened into one of apprehension and loneliness. Each of us felt a quiet desperation of the kind that wells up inside of you and brings a lump to your throat. So far away from family, friends and sweethearts, we thought and talked quietly about home and all the old familiar places and sounds and smells that make up memories of Christmas at our home. Our conversation became nostalgic. We spoke of where we were and what we were doing on Christmas Eve a year ago. Then we talked about where we wanted to be next Christmas. There was silent wondering about the future in all of us, knowing that in 48 hours we would be back in combat, replacing some other platoon in need of rest. Then, unexpectedly, in the dim twilight, a truck drove up and out jumped our company clerk. Mail Call! Everyone brightened as letter from home; Christmas cards, newspapers and packages were passed around among us. I breathe a sigh of relief when I saw that everyone had gotten mail from home. What a Godsend! What a blessing! What a wonderful thing had happened! Our morale soared as we read our letters. There was much laughter and some tears, too, as these hard-bitten young paratroopers became like little boys again, simple and childlike. One by one, they came over to show me pictures of their wives, children, girlfriends and families. They gave me cookies and candy and cake they had received. It was a magic moment for all of us. My own dear wife's Christmas letter came that day. I treasured it above all my soldier's kit bag possessions. I read and reread that letter a thousand times in later days. I, too, had some pictures to show around of my family - two boys and an infant girl born on the very day that awful war had broken out six months earlier. Soon, we began to sing Christmas carols. One of my men, an Italian soldier from Philadelphia, had a beautiful voice. Someone produced a guitar. We prevailed upon our young tenor to sing for us. He sang all the traditional carols: "Silent Night," "Oh, Come, All Ye Faithful," "Jesu Bambino" and others. Many of us joined in. The song I loved the most was "Oh Little Town of Bethlehem." I had sung that as a little boy at a church Christmas pageant 20 years before. It was my favorite. As his voice soared through those lovely strains, all of us became very quiet and just listened, deep in our own thoughts. The spell was finally broken when our platoon sergeant announced that we had to put out the fire and go to bed. I posted the guard for the night, checked our perimeter security and then joined my platoon in the warming tent. The last thing I heard before I dozed off was my driver whispering to me: "Good night, Lieutenant, Merry Christmas." Soon we were all asleep. The Sun News received many excellent entries for it readers on "My Most Memorable Holiday." Deland resident Rolly Dessert's entry was chosen as our Christmas Eve story."

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