beginning of this terrible war. I pray that the war will end, I pray for the lest fortunate people, and I pray that you will return home safely. Bermuda has been occupied by the Germans. They have shut off the St. David's lighthouse because the soldiers don't want any enemy ships seeing the light. I suppose that this works to my advantage because the light always shone in my bedroom window at night. It always kept me awake. I have decided that Bermuda is a good place to live in at this time because it is far away from the major troubles. It is also not nearly as cold as I could imagine it is where you are. We get the same rations as England: a pound of butter, an orange, a cup of sugar and a quart of milk (which is usually sour by the time it reaches us) per month. Now, this is enough to live on, but during this particular season it strangles the Christmas spirit in everyone! We have no Christmas tree. All we have is a small bunch of cedar branches that I have gathered. Sure, they are brown with age and all the spiny leaves are starting to die, but at least it's something! Yesterday I went out into the garden for the first time in about a month and I noticed that a blanket of morning glories had grown over the hibiscus bush in the left hand corner of the garden. I crawled in through a small hole in the morning glory. The centre of the bush was hollowed out by nature and the ground on which I sat was fertile with grass. I reached above my head and grabbed a piece of the vine that dominated my hibiscus. I began winding the morning glory around and around in a circle until I had produced the perfect wreath. Then, peering through the thick curtain, was a red hibiscus flower, the perfect finishing touch for my work of art. I ran inside to hang up my wreath to show that the spirit of Christmas was alive in the Smith household. I first ran to the living room to receive some acknowledgement from my mother. When I showed it to her I received a simple, "That's nice, dear,'' (hardly what I was looking for). Regardless of my mother's outlook, I ran to the door to hang up my contribution to the already weak and still dying Christmas spirit. As I opened the door I was met by the harsh faces of two uniformed soldiers. I dropped my wreath and ran to mother.

I told her the news and she took me in her arms. We sat there frozen with fear. My arms and legs were shaking. Mother was also scared but she tried not to show it. I closed my eyes and tried to block out the horrible thoughts that were racing through my mind. I had seen the soldiers standing on the corners of the streets and bustling to and from the ships, but never had I seen them this close before. I heard footsteps. I grasped mother tightly, both of us in a trance looking towards the door. The first soldier stepped through the doorway, followed closely by the other. "Excuse us,'' said the first soldier, "We're incredibly sorry if we startled you.'' Mother and I looked at each other and then looked at the soldiers in shock. "Our ship is stationed in Dockyard,'' he continued, "and we are too far away to get to the dining hall for Christmas dinner. We smelled wonderful smells coming from your kitchen and we were wondering if we could join you for Christmas dinner.'' Well, mother and I were just sitting there with our chins on the floor in amazement. There Memorable dinner love to have you stay,'' she said in reply. We got to work making two extra places at the table. When it was all prepared we sat down, all four of us, and said grace. The food was delicious! Squash, carrots and chicken, the most I have had in a long time. I was upset because mother only told me after dinner that the great tasting chicken was Nadine, my favorite pet. The conversation was interesting. It never occurred to me that the soldiers missed their families just like we miss you. Hans and Freidrick had to leave. We said good-bye and went our own separate ways. I think that in the whole in Bermuda, not one person had a more memorable Christmas than we did. I miss you a lot and I hope you will return soon. Your Loving daughter, June. PHOTO Anya Maas, runner up in the Under-18 category SHORT STORY CONTEST CPN