From the Millennial Star, December 1943 –
Christmas Interlude: A Soldier’s Contribution
By William A. Perry
It was Christmas night. Little Jimmy sat with his head on his mother’s lap, staring dreamily into the glowing fire while he visualised the scene again. It was the quaint old town of Bethlehem, the City of David, packed with thronging people who had journeyed there to pay their taxes. Poor Joseph and Mary, from Nazareth, unable to find room at the inn, had to put up in the stable, and while there – wonder of wonders – Jesus was born! What did his mother say? Wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.” How young Jimmy loved to linger over this tender scene! Presently his mother’s soft voice broke into his reverie as she ran her cool fingers through his hair. “Suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of heavenly host praising God. saying ‘Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace and good will toward men.’”
With a startling suddenness he was brought back to everyday life. “Peace and good will?” “Mummy! Why do we have wars so that Daddy has to stay away all the time?”
Mrs. Adams paused a moment before replying. “Well, Jimmy, I guess it’s because men are wicked and want money, power, other people’s property, and won’t live the teachings that Jesus taught us.”
“Could I be like Jesus if I tried very hard?” he asked.
“Yes, my dear, if you obey all his teachings.”
“Oh! I will try, Mummy,” replied Jimmy, and with childlike rapidity, changed his topic.
“When will Daddy be back from the war, mummy?”
“I don’t know, darling. When it is over, I expect.”
Jimmy was vaguely aware of a subtle change in his mother’s voice, and was surprised a few moments later to feel the warm splash of a tear, and her body gently shake as she murmured: “Please God send him back to me.”
“Why, you’re crying, mummy! When I grow up I’m going to see there are no more wars to make you unhappy.”
Corporal James Adams, or “Curley,” as he was known to his mates, sat in his ramshackle billet and drew his greatcoat closer around him. It was a pretty cold night, and fires had to be well screened with Jerry on the prowl ready to give away their position to the artillery. He was alone; all his comrades had gone down to he village to celebrate.
“Funny! It isn’t a bit like Christmas night,” he thought. ” No holly, mistletoe, kiddies’ excited cries, no roast chestnuts or good old party games.” Dinner had been a little better than usual, and the officers had managed to procure some drinks, so that most of the chaps were almost intoxicated before they went out. They did their utmost to persuade him
to accompany them, and he almost succumbed to the temptation. He was literally “browned off”! He hadn’t seen home for nearly three years, and he couldn’t speak the lingo in this God-forsaken country. Mail had been delayed, so his Christmas greetings and news were somewhere on the way. Almost he was persuaded to get drunk and forget everything even for a short while and go with the other fellows; to probably fine himself a girl to minister to his needs and fill that empty ache for feminine companionship. But no! A voice seemed to say “Keep straight! Remember your blessing and those at home who love you.” Now he was ashamed to think how near he had been to giving in.
He sat down and pulled out his well-worn Testament. It was certainly a source of spiritual uplift and help these days. As he slowly turned the pages to St. Luke and read: “For unto you is born a Saviour who is Christ the Lord”, “Peace on earth and good will to all men”, his mind went back to his childhood days some 25 years ago. History was repeating itself with a vengeance.
Why his father never came back from the war he could not discover. He recalled his mother’s tragic face as she read the telegram – Missing, believed killed,” he thought it had said, and the subsequent years of hard work and loneliness as she struggled to keep him and his sister at school. It was while his mother was . investigating the teachings of the Church that he noticed the change in her. She became brighter and more cheery, and actually had a zest in living. He figured it was because she realised it would be possible to be reunited with his father in the hereafter.
Then came that great day when they were all baptised and confined members of the Church of Jesus Christ by those holding the authority.
Since joining the Army the Gospel had been a greater source of help and inspiration to him. It was something solid and substantial to hang on to when things were going wrong and Satan was using his powers to drag everyone down to the lowest possible level. He had seen many a decently minded fellow lose his grip on life and gradually sink lower, losing his self-respect, in the abyss of habitual drunkenness and loose moral behaviour. How glad he was that , he had a pattern and a plan of life that promised gireat reward if carefully fulfilled, instead of drifting around to be tossed here and there by every chance current or wind that happened along.
He knew in his heart that he would have a safe return if he lived Christ’s teachings’ and obeyed all the Principles of the Gospel. That much had been promised in his blessing; besides, he owed it to Mary and young James Junior, waiting patiently at home for him. His eyes grew tender and wistful when he thought of Mary. Gee! She was a great kid! Brave and true, and a fine active member of the Church. He was a lucky guy to get such a swell partner when there were so many other fellows afer her. Why they loved each other so much he could never quite figure out, but one didn’t argue about such wonderful gifts. He could picture her now, sitting round the fire, telling their son the story of Jesus just as his mother had done when he was a kid.
Wars! Why were there wars? He pondered over the same question that he had asked so long ago, and which little Jimmy was probably asking right now. Lucifer was surely putting up a stiff fight this time. He had got into the hearts of men and- nations, making them greedy and feeding their ego with the desirability of great power – the same thing that brought about his own downfall and expulsion from the Council in Heaven. Now he was reaping his reward, for nation was fighting against nation, homes were being broken up, and he was using all his influence to take people away from Christ. There was more vice, harsh brutality, lust, immorality, theft, drunkenness,, but he couldn’t have all his own way, for those who resisted his temptations were better, stronger, cleaner, and fuller sighted. They and their families and Church were drawn closer together into such a unity that Satan Would find well nigh impossible to break.
“By George, it’s getting late; I think I’ll turn in.” He walked to the door and noticed a red patch in the sky in the direction of the village. Just then Jerry artillery opened up with a terrific barrage which rent the air with screaming shells and explosions which shook the very earth. British artillery replied with like intensity, so that it was just like hell on earth. From his crouched position in the dugout it looked like the village was getting it. The boys had instructions to return as soon as anything started, so they should be here now.
Presently the barrage subsided, and through the dim glare he discerned a figure running towards him. Blood was streaming from his left arm, which hung limply at his side. “Dusty Brown!” ejaculated Corporal Adams.
“Better get the ambulance, Curly,” he panted. “Most of the lads have been wiped out – started a drunken fight – knocked over the lamps – set the place on fire – then Jerry hit it plumb centre. Guess I was lucky!”
Corporal Adams raced away to summon the standby crew. As he drove the ambulance down to the village with all speed his mind was racing too. “I nearly went tonight, and could easily have been amongst them.”
His lips framed a silent prayer for his deliverance as he pulled up outside the blazing building to accomplish his thankless task.