Canadians Dig In For One Last Christmas In Kandahar; Missing Home And Families

The weather outside is always frightful, and when you’re under fire, it’s never delightful.

And, what Canadian soldiers wouldn’t give to let it snow, even just a little to brighten the drab, winter-scorched farmland of western Panjwaii.

Peace on earth and good will to all men seems very far away this season, almost as distant as it was when troops celebrated their first Christmas amid the ruins of this stark land almost seven years ago.

Much the same as other days, Dec. 25 is expected to come and go with the grind of army orders and routine of patrols along bomb-sewn laneways in mud-moulded villages that have remained stubbornly unchanged since the Nativity.

There is some holiday cheer; decorations here and there around Kandahar Airfield.

On the day itself, VIPs will most likely serve up Christmas dinner for Canadian troops, as in past years. There has been entertainment, including a USO show featuring American comic legends Robin Williams and Lewis Black.

But it’s never the same as being home.

Ask anyone around here; you feel the distance much more keenly at this time of year.

A few days ago, soldiers in the embattled outpost of Zangabad, southwest of Kandahar city, silently rose from their barricades, stopped filling sandbags and trudged sentimentally through the mud of their compound for the chance to record video messages to family.

Even after the journalist, who’d offered to take the clips, moved on to other news interviews, they still kept coming and politely implored for a chance to talk to home.

The scene was even more poignant knowing that this will be the last holiday season with troops serving in the front lines of Kandahar.

You wonder what the New Year will bring for them.

“I think that’s what is sad because (Christmas) is all about family,” said Master Cpl. Deborah Yaxley, 33, of St. Bruno, Que., who at home usually cooks Christmas dinner for her sprawling, extended family.

The distance between her and husband Warrant Officer Mario Emond, 42, isn’t as great as other families. They are both serving in Kandahar, but circumstances will likely keep them separated on Christmas Day.

And neither of them will be able to see Emond’s 20-year-old son Alex, who is with one of the combat units in Panjwaii.

Even if they do meet up, the army’s strict non-fraternization policy means they’re not allowed a hug or a even a peck on the cheek to mark the season.

It is the second marriage for both Yaxley and Emond who have three more children at home under the care of their former spouses, with whom they both genuinely get along.

“They’re in good hands,” said the Valcartier, Que.-based Yaxley. “It’s just Alex I worry about now.”

Pte. Alexandre Emond is following in the footsteps of his father, a career soldier with the Royal 22e Regiment, and his grandfather, who was also a Van Doo.

“I was worried about him, but now that I’m here and see the place, I’m comfortable,” said Mario Emond, who spoke more like a concerned father than a hardened warrant officer.

Soldiers have started to receive packages, little creature comforts such as favourite blankets, gloves and other nicknacks, all dutifully mailed by relatives weeks in advance.

Yet, the hubbub of brightly lit malls and the merchandising excesses of home are but a distant echo in a place where dishevelled Afghan children argue over scraps of paper and pens handed out by passing troops.

The personal reflection we all do at Christmas is somehow deeper in the face of that kind of misery, said Yaxley.

The gripes about cell phones and other trinkets of modern life have ceased.

“When we’re at home, you know, the kids are spoiled rotten, but now they’re like, we don’t need presents we just want you to be safe and we want to send you our love,” she said.

Any gifts exchanged are going to be small, barracks-box-sized tokens of love.

Emond was dutifully silent on whether he’d finished shopping for his wife.

If you look really hard, you catch a hint of the season underneath the Pashtun turbans, in the biblically-lined faces of rural Afghans.

But the sentiment is tempered as much by the sight of AK-47s and the ever-present threat of roadside bombs, as it by the fact this is a Muslim country at war with itself.

Soldiers at a former Taliban compound known as Old School in Zangabad erected a tiny Christmas tree with a glow worm puppet doubling as the angel.

A spartan combat outpost in Fathullah has a full-sized artificial tree that was shipped over by the wife of a soldier.

It is complete with ornaments and lights.

“Some guys will likely cry on the 25th of December because they don’t have their kids here,” said Master Cpl. Stephane Gelinas, of Montreal, whose wife was responsible for the holiday cheer.

He said they plan to have coffee and take some pictures in front of the tree on Christmas day before going out on patrol.

The Van Doo battle group commander, Lt.-Col. Michel-Henri St-Louis, placed the star on top recently.

Gelinas said they plan to keep the tree, which he described as a beacon of hope in this wasteland, lit at night so other Canadian troops at another nearby base can see it as well.

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