Most silent night
Standing watch on Christmas Eve
The loneliest moment of my life was Christmas Eve 1987, somewhere in the Pacific Ocean aboard the aircraft carrier U.S.S. Ranger.
I was staring into an empty radar screen. There were no other ships for miles around. I discarded the rules and broke from the radio frequency set for my earphones and searched for hints of Christmas. All I found was barely audible and crackling Polynesian music that sounded, so I remember, somewhat in line with the season. It made me feel lonelier.
It’s hard to imagine being lonely on a ship with 5,000 others, some of them within whispering distance inside the ship’s Combat Information Center. But the always dark room seemed darker that night, and whatever chatter there was seemed muted. Perhaps I was just projecting my own sense of things onto everyone else, but it felt that a cloud of aloneness enveloped that big, sad ship in the middle of nowhere.
This Christmas Eve, thousands of young sailors (men and women) will be on watch in the Pacific, the Atlantic, the Indian Ocean, the Persian Gulf and elsewhere—in the air, on the water and beneath it. Members of the Coast Guard will be on watch in Alaska, Maine, California, Texas, Florida, Guam, Puerto Rico and so many other sites. Service members will be on watch in Afghanistan and Little Rock Air Force Base; in Turkey and Fort Chaffee in Fort Smith; in South Korea and Camp Robinson in North Little Rock. Not so long ago, some of them spent Christmas Eve searching for improvised explosive devices in Iraq. Some are on watch now in military hospitals where the wounded have been sent.
In my mind’s eye, I see family members walking along the Vietnam Memorial—The Wall—in Washington, D.C., wishing names listed there a peaceful Christmas. And I see the wreaths at the national cemeteries in Fayetteville, Fort Smith and Little Rock.
We are a spoiled, distracted and ungrateful people, but many thousands of 20-year-olds are protecting us anyway. The foreign-made gifts you purchased for friends and family got here because those 20-year-olds keep the shipping lanes open. They also keep lunatic dictators from pushing things too far. They bring a degree of stability to the world.
A friend of mine in Guatemala once said that living with a strong America was hard for a small country like his, but living with a weak one would be a lot harder. The geopolitical order the U.S. provides is sometimes tough, but it is order. Central Americans who disagree will change their mind if China’s influence continues to grow in the region. Depending on what our national leaders do, the 20-year-olds who will stand watch this Christmas Eve can be a brake on that growing influence.
Like me, many of these young people did not join the military for idealistic reasons. In my case, my shot at being a rock star failed and, while I had a vague idea that I wanted to go to college, I had no idea how to study or even how to begin the process. Boot camp was the best thing that could have happened to me.
And I don’t look back on my enlistment with pride. Once, someone asked me what I did in the Navy. I said, “I complained.” It’s true. The taxpayers didn’t get their money’s worth from me. That’s one reason I do things with veterans now—trying to make up for youthful blindness.
But, despite myself, I did stand watch on a Christmas Eve, and many thousands of young people will do the same this year. On ships and submarines, on missile sites and at base entry gates, in harbors, on transport planes, on special operations.
To them: Thank you. We respect and appreciate you. Merry Christmas.