Christmas is usually planned with military precision. Please note, when we say “military precision,” we mean operational precision. Not military family precision. Let’s face it, once all the “precision” has been handed out before Christmas stand-down, there is very little left to share with the families.
There are so many films depicting military homecomings over Christmas. The family are seen enjoying the most magical, special time together. Let’s face it. That’s not what happens, is it?
You’ve been told that they’ll be home for Christmas. However, you were also warned not to get your hopes up as it may change last minute. Which usually means their flight will be delayed and they’ll get home on New Year’s Day instead.
- If they’re not deployed and you live close to camp, chances are they will be given guard duties.
Celebrating Christmas around moving boxes comes with the territory.
Your quarter is so small you have nowhere to hide the presents so make your other half take them into work until Christmas Eve.
Your whole house is powered by military issue batteries. But for some inexplicable reason, you always run out on Christmas morning.
If you still live in Germany you don’t get to watch your kids open their presents. You’re too busy panic-dividing the wrappers and packaging into the right recycling bags.
Cooking your first Christmas dinner is always interesting. You quickly realise you’re not a proper adult, but manage to whip something up from the Christmas range out of the NAAFI freezers.
Some of us aren’t so lucky. You realise too late your turkey doesn’t fit into your quarter’s oven, and you can’t cook roasties at the same time because they only gave you one oven shelf.
Your family seem to think the distance to your quarter is 1,298 miles further than the distance to their house. So Moses went to the mountain instead, together with the dog, a newborn, a five-year-old and a car boot full of presents which you’ve had to sneak in while the kids were sleeping.
If you can’t travel by car, by some miracle Santa remembers to deliver suitcase-sized presents.
After reaching the mothership, you realise with shock you forgot the dumb elf at home, on the shelf.
Nightmare. Send help.