Guard Duty on Christmas Eve

One of my most memorable Christmases was the one I spent marching alone through a frozen and snowy motor pool in West Germany.

On Christmas Eve 1985, I was a 21-year-old private stomping over the frozen bricks, and tromping through the icy snow, while carrying an M-16 assault rifle in a US Army motor pool.

That September, shortly after I arrived in West Germany after a tour in Fort Bragg, North Carolina, the Red Army Faction had murdered an American soldier for his identification card so they could drive a car bomb onto nearby Rein Main Airbase and set off a bomb.  That November, more terrorists put a car bomb in our Frankfurt PX, blowing up my television set being repaired in a nearby shop as well as wounding dozens.

In 1985, Europe was in the grip of terrorism. Whatever their stripe -- Islamic, Libyan or communist -- they were all scum as far as this young GI was concerned. I would have gladly shot them had I been given the chance.

As a result of the violence, we guarded everything. We had precious little time off. We could make a small fortune – the going price was $40 – by trading our free Saturdays for a guard duty shift.

I loved the guard posts that allowed me to patrol vast swaths of US government property, such as my battalion’s motor pool. The Germans, who would spend their weekends grooming their tiny gardens next to our barbed-wire fence, would wave and say “hello” in their best English. I would answer back and chat in my self-taught German.

That must of have been a shock for a beer-drinking family to see a young American soldier answer back in their language while sporting a rifle, helmet and body armor.

The damp winters were particularly brutal in the Rein River Valley. I spent $100 – then a small fortune -- on the best winter boots I could buy at our PX (I still have them). They were German Army issue and we were authorized to wear them on duty.

Guard duty, as a job, is pretty unmemorable. But for some reason, in winter, I loved the shifts. Although stationed near Frankfurt, I remember those winter nights for their solitude. Rarely in my life have I ever felt so alone and relaxed. The only sound was from the breath of my exhale. When I walked, the snow underneath my feet collapsed with a crunch after initially resisting my weight.

That December, word came down for Christmas guard volunteers. I signed up because I wanted to stay awake anyway so I could find an empty phone booth the following morning. My native Iowa was seven hours behind, so finding a phone booth meant calling family on Christmas Eve their time.

And the incentive of a four-day pass for Christmas Eve guard didn’t hurt. I used it to go to Paris the following Valentine’s Day weekend.

I remember the City of Lights. I still have the pictures. I also remember spending that Christmas Eve alone in 1985 because it was on that cold and snowy night in West Germany when I learned that Christmas is best spent with the ones you love.

In retrospect, I wish I had taken some pictures of that guard duty shift.