Family Christmas at our home is always fun, with a special rack to hold Christmas socks for all married children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. The excitement and noise is always great and each Christmas is a day to be treasured. Fifty-three family Christmases have now passed, but the one I always think of first was not a real family day.
World War II and a chain of events put me into the naval hospital at Farragut, Idaho. Just a few months before, as scoutmaster of a great bunch of 78 Boy Scouts of Troop 401 in Salt Lake City, I had made my last overnight Scout camp with the boys in our favorite camp spot in Parleys Canyon.Now it was the day before Christmas and although those great gals, the Navy nurses, had tried hard to make it seem like Christmas with music and decorations all through the hospital ward and even a bit of mistletoe (which they tried hard to avoid), I was still feeling blue as I lay on my lower bunk thinking of home.
Down the hospital ward came a Navy commander wearing gold braid half-way up his sleeve. Marching up to the nurse in charge, he said, "Where is this man Ertmann? I want to see him." The nurse pointed to me, and over he came. All eyes were watching as we all wondered what I had done to deserve a gold-braid visit like this. "Ertmann," he said. I answered, "Yes, Sir!" and came to attention. "At ease, sailor. I just wanted to see what you looked like." He turned and waved and down the hospital ward came two sailors, each pushing a large canvas post office cart full of Christmas packages to be dumped on my bunk. Seventy-eight packages from 78 Boy Scouts at home. Every package tied with a square knot in good Boy Scout style.
I had just received my back-to-duty orders and was shipping out the day after Christmas. My gear had already been moved out and I was restricted to one small bag to take on the Navy plane with me. So on Christmas Day, Ward C threw a Christmas party. Tables were brought in and the sailor patients gathered around to help me open my 78 packages plus a few more from my wife and two sons, parents and other loved ones. The excitement and noise was great and the blues were gone as the Christmas spirit took over. Contributions came from all the men in the ward as they, too, shared their packages from home. Homemade fruitcake, cookies and candy made by mothers and sisters of Boy Scouts. Christmas candy, nuts, fruit, boxes of crackers and small jars of peanut butter and popcorn by the gallons, and several small Christmas trees, games and books and other small gifts to be shared. Even the Christmas cards became important as the sailors read them and shared the special ones with each other.
The Navy doctors, nurses and the corpsmen brought in the soda water as their contribution to our Christmas party. Doctors, off-duty nurses and walking patients from other wards came in to join in the great Christmas fun, and the Christmas spirit was truly with us. One of the nurses borrowed two guitars, one of the corpsmen wheeled in a piano and the songs started. All the old favorites were sung. And many a sailor wiped away the tears and worked away at finishing up that beautiful spread of Christmas goodies on the table in the center of the hospital ward.
The Navy chaplain came in to join in the festivities and one of the ladies asked him to read the Christmas story from the Bible. Patients allowed sailors to sit on their beds, and all became quiet to listen. As the chaplain finished reading, a song came from a young sailor, a bed patient, as he let us know his feelings about Christmas and helped bring the real meaning of the day to each of us. After the boy sang the first verse, the sailors, officers and nurses all joined in and sang with him, "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear, That Glorious Song of Old."
The party was over, my packages from Scouts and home were gone. The lights were out and all around me I could hear men crying as the fun of the party wore off and we all again gave thought to family and loved ones. Dozens of men stopped by to say thanks for a special Christmas, one to be remembered.
I couldn't write to all the Scouts and tell them how much their thoughts, gifts and best wishes meant to me and the men of hospital Ward C, but I did send a letter to the troop leaders, letting them know of the great party they had given us and the love and appreciation I had for all.
Oh, how I missed my beautiful wife, my two small sons and family members at home. Christmas is a family time, a time for closeness and lots of love. A time for friends and a time to share with others. This Navy Christmas wasn't quite family but almost. The real Christmas spirit was there and that great party cheered up many homesick sailors.
There have been almost 50 good family Christmases since that one in Farragut, Idaho, but when, on Christmas Day, I stop to count my blessings, this one - "The Christmas of Seventy-eight Packages from Home" - always comes to mind and I wonder how many sailors of Ward C and Scouts of Troop 401 remember it with the special Christmas feeling that it brings to me.
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ADDITIONAL INFORMATION
About the author
Ray E. Ertmann has a big goal: to be the first 100-year veteran Scouter in America, and he only has 32 more years to go.
Ray has been married for 53 years, is a father of four, grandfather of 13 and great-grandfather of five a lifelong leader of Boy Scouts.
He's still a merit badge counselor and has earned the Silver Beaver award. He's proud, too, of his Eagle Scout sons, grandsons and Eagle Scout wannables, his great-grandsons.
Now retired, Ray Ertmann lives in Midvale, where he owned his own auto parts stores. He keeps himself busy with woodwork, LDS Church service and, of course, Scouting. Helen and Ray Ertman enjoy traveling, camping (in a trailer because the gound is so far down) and being with thier large family.
Each Christmas their family comes for breakfast. This year there'll bee 34 stockings hung with care and a lot of love from Grandma and Grandpa Ertmann.