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It was Christmas 1941. I was in a little town
called Hermosa on Bataan in the Philippine
Islands.
The night before we had retreated from Clark
Field, and before we left we made sure we had
all the trimmings for a real Christmas dinner.
The cooks had worked through the night and
morning preparing the meal, and just before the
meal was ready, a Jap bomber had dropped part of
his bombs in a water buffalo wallow right next
to the kitchen. No one had been hurt but it sure
ruined our Christmas dinner. My Christmas dinner
consisted of a handful of prunes and a piece of
cheese.
That night I walked back up the road toward
Manila, and off to the right was a mango tree
with a swarm of millions of fire flies over,
under, around, and through with none over two
feet from the tree.
I stood for quite awhile and admired the work of
God. It sure made a wonderful Christmas tree.
Merry Christmas
Mukden 623
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