Christmas With Madeline

CHRISTMAS WITH MADELINE

DECEMBER 26, 2013 / DHMcCarty

Editors Note: Just another pleasant memory of a Christmas Day. Thumbs was my nickname in the Marines. Can’t imagine why.

I spent the Christmas of 1970 at MCRD San Diego in the barracks. It was the Vietnam era Marine Corps, There was a sense of purpose. There was little time for celebration and frivolity. SSgt Pickles had barracks duty that day. In Good Cop/Bad Cop terms, he was the good Cop to GSgt Newlin’s pure Asshole with a capital A.

We had a quick PT in the morning followed by a two mile run in combat boots and then back to the barracks.. Everyone hit the showers and then a trip to the Mess hall for a hearty Christmas lunch of Glazed Ham with sweet Potatoes and Apple pie with whipped cream. After Christmas dinner, SSgt Pickles had us fall into position on the tarmack.

“All right Recruits, when I dismiss you, you’ve got 10 minutes to get into Tennis shoes, Utes and T shirts. We’re going to hold Mail call and then you’ve got the day off until Dinner Call.

Dismissed.”

SSgt Pickles had withheld Mail Call for the previous three days. He treated it as a punishment for substandard performance in PT. But there was no malice in his voice during those announcements.

When I saw the volume of mail on Christmas Day, I saw through his ruse. Well, that and he was smiling, an emotion seldom visible in Boot Camp. Everyone got mail. Some, a dozen letters or more. Those with no family were treated to the annual Christmas cards from the Honorable Richard Nixon and The Commandant of the USMC, Gen. Leonard F. Chapman jr.

I spent the afternoon staring out the window at seagulls, riding the air currents and circling the dumpsters, and dreaming about a lemon coke in a tall glass of crushed ice, sitting at HoJo’s counter at 13 Mile and Woodward.

It was my first Christmas away from home.

. . . . .

I spent September of 1971 through March of 1972 aboard the USS Inchon Helicopter Assault Carrier. It was a pretty good gig. We were afforded two months of liberty on the six month cruise. From 12/21/71 until 1/3/72 the USS inchon sat just off the coast of Antibes, French Riviera. Marines have very little to do on naval ships, we’re basically just along for the ride. So during that two week hiatus, I was ashore for all but two days.

“So, what you got planned for Christmas Thumbs? Roast Ham and sweet potatoes with the family?”

Cpl. Jerome Patrick Christopher Denning was choking a fat cigar and staring aimlessly at a Playboy. It wasn’t holding his interest.

“Sure Jerry, dinner starts at three. You’re welcome to join the family. My folks might even ask you to give the benediction. I won’t tell them you’re Catholic or expose your IRA proclivities.”

“Whoa, I forgot you were a fookin’ Protestant. I’ll pass on the sweet potatoes. How about tequila, soft hips and soft lips, in a bar on the docks. Gunderson gave me the lowdown. Just ask a cabby for ‘le front de mer’. Or we could go to Cannes and look for movie stars. Maybe we’ll meet Hanoi Jane Fonda. I could have a good talk with her in a back alley, get something straight between us.”

“Tequila at 9:00 a.m. doesn’t appeal to me at all and besides it brings out the devil in you. I don’t want to carry your ass back to the docks with a diaper wrapped around your bleeding head.”

Jerry reached into his locker and pulled out his Nikon and two rolls of film, his cigar clenched between his teeth.

“Mom will love it. Cannes the way the locals see it.”

We took the launch to the docks and caught a cab to Cannes, 13 miles away. Traffic was almost non existent. Jet setters didn’t rise before 10:00 and most cafes were closed for Christmas Day. We stood on the Promenade de la Pantiero and gazed at the grand hotels lining the Promenade.

“This isn’t what I came for. Too cold for movie stars in bikinis and too expensive for your pay grade. You up to a hike? Look up the hill. See that clock tower. I got a feeling that’s where the views are.”

It was a leisurely stroll through a town that I had read about in books and drooled over in the movies. I was a huge film fan, especially foreign movies, and here I was walking the same streets as Yves Montand, Jeanne Moreau and Catherine Deneuve. We passed a few cafes but most were closed. I wanted to sit at a sidewalk table and drink hot chocolate on this brisk Christmas morning.

As we walked further up the hill we entered a residential area. We passed only a few Frenchmen but everyone was friendly, everyone gave us a greeting. we cut through an alleyway and walked past an attractive young matron carrying a wicker basket of baguettes and vegetables in paper bags. She smiled at us and wished us ‘Joyeux Noël’.

I stopped and turned to greet her.

“Excusez moi Madame. Où pouvons-nous trouver un cafe . . .est ouvert?”

She laughed and set down the basket.

“It’s OK, I speak English. Your French will get you a beer and that is about all. Go this way to Rue du Priè. When you see Rue des Frères go to your right. Madeline is always open on Christmas. It is about a hundred meters on the left. Order Le Chocolate Chaud. Au revoir and Joyeux Noël.”

We found the cafe easily. The proprietor was a robust woman of a certain age with flaming red hair. She introduced herself as Madeline and brought a glass bottle of Spring water to the table. There were only three other patrons in the cafe. Madeline leaned over us with a smile and her right hand crossed over her heart.

“You are soldiers Non? And you came to spend Christmas with me. I am touched. What are your names?”

“We’re Marines actually. I am Daniel and this is Jerome. Is it possible to have Chocolate Chaud?”

She Laughed, “But of course. And I will bring you a basket of bread and a hearty soup. My husband died in the Indochina war in 1954. I have a soft spot for soldiers. Especially for handsome young ones.”

The soup was more of a stew and the bread was crusty, crispy and chewy all at the same time. Madeline brought by a bottle of Martell Cognac to toast the holidays. The cognac was exceptional, a taste of grapes and just the right amount of burn. After two or three toasts I was feeling quite mellow and Madeline was looking twenty years younger. She was enjoying the attention of her two young soldiers.

Madeline glanced toward the clock. It was 1:55. She leaned back in her chair and sighed.

“My daughter has dinner at quatre heures today. I always open the cafe on Christmas for the ones that are alone for the holidays. So at this time I will bid you adieu and lock the doors.”

She leaned over and kissed both of my cheeks and then Jerry’s. I reached for my wallet to pay the bill. Madeline waved me away.

“I was a teenager when the Americans liberated us from the Nazis. I kissed a handsome young American soldier. You made my Christmas and I hope I made yours a little sweeter.”

Madeline wrapped me in a hug, wished me a Joyeux Noël and planted a big wet kiss right on my lips and then turned to Jerry who was standing with open arms and a drunken grin, not quite felonious.

She locked the door behind us and waved goodby through the window. The cobblestones of Rue des Frères curved down the hill offering a beautiful view of the harbor.