A Holiday Memoir- Recollections of Christmas 1944

by Joe Corcoran Jan 27, 1996

Jeanne and I have had seven children. We have watched them grow and develop
from infancy to adulthood. We have seen them through all kinds of holidays.
Without a doubt the warmest recollections of holidays with those kids are
associated with Christmas. I think that is because we saw them through that
period of their lives when they were most innocent, most spiritual and so
dependent on us for all internal and external needs. They believed us
virtually blindly and with a certain purity born of unchallenged faith.Their
response to everything about Christmas provided us with a palpable sense of
warmth, a real aura of comfort, a justification for our lives and efforts. In
retrospect we were like characters in a Norman Rockwell painting.Why then
would I wander off to another picture of Christmas? Why would Christmas in
1944 be so idelibly etched in my memory? I will try to explain.The year 1944
was a most unusual time for all. A big war was being waged all over the
world. Many young and heretofore sheltered not quite men were being exposed
to all sorts of experiences they could not even anticipate. My Thanksgiving
dinner, comprised of less than the traditional menu, was consumed aboard a
ship off the coast of North Africa. Until then that was only a vague place on
a map in a high school geography class. Next we were in Naples harbor looking
at some distance up to Mt. Vesuvius, another geography note. Next it was to
the heel of the Italian boot and a little town called San Pancrazio. Flying
out of Italy was certainly different. People shot at you over these
targets.It was winter and quickly Christmas was upon us, On the eve of
Christmas our bomber crew with the exception of our one Jewish member who
would not join us all decided to go to midnight mass in the cathedral at
nearby Lecce, This motley group of eight, five Protestants and three
Catholics, made the journey in a borrowed truck to the largest church I had
ever seen. No pews, very little light and much cold but a pleasant religious
experience was the reward for our trip.We went back to our base and pyramidal
tent under a shroud of melancholy and home sickness. When we entered our tent
the depression evaporated. There on an unfamiliar table was the most
beautiful Christmas tree I have ever seen though not quite like any I had
ever seen. Hanging from the branches were gifts for all, simple gifts but
gifts. Each gift was wrapped and inscribed with the name of one of us. We all
received a gift from Santa Claus, our own Jewish Santa Claus.