The Twelve Days of Christmas Day 9

On the ninth day of Christmas my true love gave to me… White Christmas!


Nine ladies dancing

The Song White Christmas

250 words

white christmas

4 thoughts on “The Twelve Days of Christmas Day 9

  1. Christmas Eve is now upon us. Here I was sitting in my barrack listening to Bing Crosby rendition of White Christmas . My mind took me back home for the magic of the season. The women would be in the kitchen cooking up there goodies. For us men would be out among the freshly coat of white snow cutting the tree. Then there was the evening festivities of decorating the tree and singing our favorites.
    Why I’m I here in the first place battling this never ending war were no victory is beauty. Then I remember the letter my sleeping mate was writing. One day I asked him the same question, he simply answered.
    “I’m here so that my kids don’t.”
    The sound of the door brought me back into reality as my mates made their way in.
    “So Johnny , you coming?”
    “Whatever are you referring too.”
    “Where going to Veronica’s down the way. This year she’s promising she has nine ladies dancing in their birthday suit it should be a blast.”
    “Nah! I’ll pass.”
    “What’s wrong with you man.”
    “Just not in the mood for live entertainment.”
    “All right then if you are staying here so I’m I.”
    “No it’s all right. Go and have a blast.”
    “I don’t think so we are in this together.”
    “You are a true friend.”
    “We joined together we will fight together. Tell me again of Christmas down on the farm.”
    “ok if you insist.”
    “I will never be bored . The way you say it.”

  2. Bataan

    “For a drop of water…” They held him up between them but he knew they were suffering too. The Phillipine jungle wasn’t anything like the Bronx and this march was no parade.
    “Come on, Davis, we’ve gotta make it, all of us.” His buddies Steve and Hess from the boot camp settled him on their shoulders again as they watched a group of Japanese soldiers bashing in the brains of some Filipino soldiers, finishing them off with the cold steel of their bayonets.
    “Oh guys, remember the Christmas do? So much drink, so little time to drink it.”
    “Hell, stop thinking about drink. Think about…about girls, Davis. Girls. How many danced with you that night?” Hess was always going on about girls.
    “Oh yeah, that was good night. They put on ’White Christmas’ and everyone danced. How many? Nine, nine ladies dancing with me, little ol’ me.”
    “Ladies, that’s kinda stretching it, eh, Davis? Eh?”
    They laughed but Steve slipped in the mud made by a hundred thousand footprints. Davis fell to the ground and was covered from head to foot. A Japanese soldier ran over and poked him with his rifle.
    “You can say that again,” coughed Davis.
    Steve and Hess picked him up again and they both received the butt of the soldier’s gun.
    “I guess he wants you to get up by yourself, Davis,” sighed Hess.
    “Well, tell him it ain’t happening! This mud is so cool.” He squirmed around like a happy little pig. “Oink, oink!”

  3. Etched

    We were assigned to stop the enemy from advancing through the pass in the southern end of the kumchee mountain ridge. I was assigned night watch just below and slightly forward of the battery of nine 50 cal machine guns; “the ladies” as we called them.

    Sitting in my freshly dug foxhole, I scanned the barren wasteland; laid bare earlier that day by incendiary shells. It was Christmas eve, so I played Christmas songs in my ear-buds while I scanned the charred black soil of the open space below through my night vision binoculars.

    It was about 3:00 Am when I saw them; hundreds of them; coming fast and furious. Where had they all come from? I sent the signal, flares were fired high, and the sky lit up bright and clear; leaving no place to hide.

    Then … we opened fire. Tracers zipped over my head as thousands of molten hot bullets ripped viciously through the of the night; punctuated only by our own mortar shells, and the screams of the wounded below. I plastered myself to the sides of foxhole and witnessed the unleashing of hell to roam the surface of the earth.

    All nine of the “ladies” danced feverishly above me, as a slow motion scene of chaos played out below; accompanied by the seemingly melancholic tune of, “White Christmas” playing through my ear-buds.

    To this day, I cannot hear that song, and not visualize in my mind what a 50 cal. bullet does to a human being.

  4. Nine women dance around in tutus to exact chorography on the surface of an ancient black and white television. A man comes into the dusty room through a hole in a wall that must have been created by indiscriminate explosives. He stares at the silent tv for a few moments before asking, “Why the hell are you watching this shit?”
    “It’s Christmas man…” replies a soldier lounging against a pile of rubble.
    “But the Nutcracker? Really?” asks his compatriot.
    “I’d be watching something else if it was available…”
    “White Christmas?”
    The man on the ground grins up at him for a moment and starts singing the song quietly, “I’m… dreaming… of a whhiiiiite Christmas…”
    His friend leans up against the wall and joins in with him, “Just like the ones… I used to know.”
    All around, the voices of the rest of the platoon join in with the melody. Right before they finish the song, high caliber gunfire from the roof drowns them out.
    The soldier on the ground hops over to a window and looks at the entrenched crowd half a block away that their machine gun is currently peppering. “Can’t even sing a carol in peace… Crummy war…”
    His friend kneels down next to him and pats his shoulder. “Just keep looking forward to that White Christmas, man.”
    He glances at his friend and says bitterly, “Just as long as it isn’t the Nuclear Winter variety…”

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