SEASON'S GREETINGS IN A WAR ZONE.

Byline: Steve Vlasich Local View

AS Americans bask in the glow and warmth of another holiday season, their happiness is tempered by the fact thousands of their sons and daughters are separated from their loved ones by the cruel fates of war.

On duty in faraway hot spots such as Afghanistan and Iraq, and in dozens of less hazardous places, GIs stand guard between us and those who would harm us.

Separation from home and family is the price the soldier pays for his rendered duty, but at no time of the year is that separation more difficult than during the holiday season.

For the GI away from home, the song ``White Christmas'' is enough to bring a tear to the eye of even the most hardened warrior. As they stand guard, American GIs dream of home and remember past Christmas gatherings with turkey dinners, chestnuts, eggnog, old family friends and family gathered from great distances to celebrate this unique season.

There isn't a Christmas that goes by that those who served in the military can't recall a Christmas when they were separated from their family.

In World War II, I spent the coldest winter of my life in the Ardennes forest of Belgium during Hitler's last gamble, the Battle of the Bulge. Snow, fog and poor visibility combined to render Allied support helpless to aid the battered defenders of Bastogne. Infantrymen suffered as much from trench-foot as they did from other causes, and all agreed the Ardennes was pure hell.

Hitler's last gamble included sending English-speaking German soldiers dressed as American GIs, driving American military vehicles, throughout the American lines to sow confusion and panic. Combat MPs challenged everyone traveling the Ardennes roads to know ``who is married to Mickey Mouse'' and ``who won the 1944 World Series.''

My recollection of Christmas Eve 1944 was our company of 250 engineers spending Christmas Eve in an abandoned German brewery. Our cooks put together a hot meal of canned C rations, which was washed down by gallons of wine requisitioned by engineers who rowed across the Moselle River. Gathering as many 5-gallon water cans as they could find, our fellow soldiers filled them with wine that put a welcome edge on the otherwise bland meal.

Other troops returned with a Christmas tree they had cut down themselves, and, eventually, it was decorated.

As the evening wore on and the wine disappeared, the food tasted good and the tree looked even better. While there was an air of bravado fueled by Moselle wine, each man retreated within himself to remember Christmases past. We would have given all we had to be back home.

Mercifully, the evening ended, and the next morning we left the brewery to move on to our next assignment.

Millions of America's veterans have such stories to tell, and thousands more who serve in Afghanistan and Iraq will have theirs to tell family and friends upon their return.

As this holiday season dawns, our men and women will suffer the same homesickness and loneliness as their fathers and grandfathers before them. Looking back, they will know and remember that the companionship and friendship of their fellow soldiers kept them going. They will thank God for their comrades who kept them happy and smiling, even when there was no reason to be happy or to smile.

Maybe that's the magic of the holidays.

For those of us fortunate to spend this holiday season with family and friends, let's raise a glass to those who put their lives on the line for us. Send a prayer their way, that they be safe and sound, and that their holidays will be as merry as can be.