It’s Christmas Eve on the base in some far away location in the middle of the desert. You’re a small town kid from Wisconsin, always enjoying a White Christmas with your family. A tiny sigh falls past your lips as you stare at the small plastic tree, undecorated, that you’re sat next to. You’d tried calling home, wanting to hear their voices, but reception is nonexistent.

So instead you lay on the ground, head resting under the branches of the flimsy tree as you try to imagine lights and ornaments, not hearing the heavy boots of your Lieutenant walking into the common room.

He notices you clad in Christmas pajamas and your head hidden under the tree.