The Eight Bells of Christmas
A salty Holiday remembrance through 250 years of Navy and Marine history
Christmas in the sea services is rarely “feet up by the fire.” It’s watchstanding, hot coffee, and doing the mission anyway—whether the weather cooperates or not.
So here’s a holiday carol for the deckplates: eight bells of Christmas-season “watches” across the Navy’s 250 years—moments that landed in late December, when Sailors and Marines were still on the job. (Not an exhaustive list—just eight important sea stories in our maritime heritage.) The Navy traces its establishment to October 13, 1775; in 2025 the Navy marked its 250th birthday, with fleet-week style events and celebrations tied to that milestone. Naval History and Heritage Command
And because somebody always asks: the Marine Corps is within the Department of the Navy—so yes, Marines are riding this sleigh too.
First Watch (0000-0400) — December 3, 1775
“A brand-new Navy… and the flags go up.”
On the first watch of Christmas, Navy history gave to me: a young Continental Navy raising the Grand Union Flag aboard Alfred in December 1775—an early symbol of America going to sea to fight. Tradition ties this moment to John Paul Jones serving as the ship’s first lieutenant. Naval History and Heritage Command
Salty takeaway: Before there were global fleets and carrier strike groups, there were determined crews, cold decks, and a decision to contest the oceans anyway. If you’ve ever stood a midwatch in lousy weather, you already understand the spirit.
Second Watch (0400-0600) — December 24, 1814 (Christmas Eve)
“Diplomats sign; Sailors stop bleeding.”
On the second watch of Christmas, Navy history gave to me: the Treaty of Ghent, signed December 24, 1814, which ended the War of 1812 between the United States and Great Britain. The Brits in those days had a tendency to take American Sailors from their ships and "impressed" them into the British Navy.
If you want personalities in the room: U.S. negotiators included John Quincy Adams, Henry Clay, and Albert Gallatin (among others) trying to land the paperwork that would end the shooting. In what would be some serious modern day delay in communications - news of the treaty spread so slowly , and word of peace did not reach the American and British armies for some time. American forces, led by Andrew Jackson, won the Battle of New Orleans on January 8, 1815, end the hostilities after the official peace. National Archives.
Salty takeaway: Sometimes the most decisive “naval operation” at Christmas is a pen, a table, and a treaty—because it means Sailors get to go home or at least back to their own Navy.
Third Watch (0600-0800) — December 25, 1863 (Christmas Day)
“Merry Christmas. Here’s your shore battery.”
On the Third Watch of Christmas, the Navy gave to me… a Christmas-morning ambush and a gun crew that refused to quit.
Christmas Day on the Stono River (off Legareville, Johns Island, South Carolina) didn’t come with carols—it came with Confederate artillery trying to catch the Union force flat-footed. The one Union Navy ship in the immediate fight was the gunboat Marblehead, and the action is now commonly referenced as the Battle of Legareville.
This one comes with real, named valor. Multiple Marblehead Sailors earned the Medal of Honor for actions tied to that engagement, including:
Boatswain’s Mate William Farley — credited for keeping up rapid, effective fire during the engagement.
Contraband Robert Blake — described in the official citation as an escaped slave who carried out his duties bravely serving a rifle gun during the engagement. Oh by the way...not only was he an escaped slave, but he was also just 11 or 12 years old! His story is pretty amazing. So check out the link.
Quartermaster James Miller — cited for courage under fierce hostile fire during the engagement.
Landsman Charles Moore — cited for being wounded, briefly retiring, then becoming so exhausted from blood loss he had to be taken below—while the fight resulted in the enemy abandoning positions.
Salty takeaway: The enemy doesn’t care it’s Christmas. The gun crews still have to stand the watch.
Fourth Watch (0800-1200) — Kandahar, Christmas Week 2001 - The beginning of Marine-istan (IFYKYK)
On the Fourth Watch of Christmas, the Commandant gave to me… a boots-on-the-ground reminder that the “holiday routine” doesn’t apply to perimeter security.
A few days before Christmas, Marine Commandant Gen. James L. Jones flew into Kandahar and went out to visit Marines securing the Kandahar airport (19 Dec 2001). The 26th MEU’s own write-up says he didn’t just stop for the command brief—he moved “through the mine-littered land” to see Marines guarding the forward perimeters and get a first-hand read on morale before he headed home to talk with families at Camp Lejeune.
Then on Christmas Day (25 Dec 2001)—while the rest of the planet was arguing about whether Die Hard is a Christmas movie—Marines of the 26th Marine Expeditionary Unit (Special Operations Capable) were photographed moving out from a forward operating base in Kandahar “to defend and maintain security throughout the perimeter,” operating in support of Operation Enduring Freedom. Wikimedia Commons
If you want the “12 Days” cadence line for this watch, here’s a tight one that stays true to the record:
On the Fourth Watch of Christmas, the Commandant gave to me:
a Kandahar walk-through… across mine-littered ground… and a perimeter that still needed guarding.
Fifth Watch (1200-1600) — December 1945
Fifth Watch — Christmas 1945: Operation Magic Carpet (and the ‘Operation Santa Claus’ scramble)
On the fifth watch of Christmas, the Navy gave to me… a Magic Carpet ride home—and a holiday rush that felt like the world’s biggest PCS season.
World War II ends, and America looks around and realizes: “We have millions of Sailors, Marines, Soldiers, and aircrew scattered across the planet… and every last one of them wants to be home yesterday.” That return effort became Operation Magic Carpet, described as the largest combined air-and-sealift ever organized—moving about eight million Americans back from overseas theaters.
But Christmas 1945 was the emotional deadline. The Army’s own historical write-up says demobilization moved “swiftly” with the goal of getting as many home as possible by Christmas—then calls what followed a logistical nightmare.
And because this is "Merica", someone basically said: “Fine. Turn the knob to MAX.” That Christmas push shows up in sources as “Operation Santa Claus”—with the Army and Navy trying to process discharges in record time and accelerate the trip home.
The numbers paint the scene: the Army article says 40,000 returned from overseas on December 24, 1945, while 53,000 were still stuck around San Francisco on Christmas Day waiting on the next leg—because even victory can’t defeat rail congestion and weather.
If you want one ship to personify the whole thing, the National WWII Museum notes USS Saratoga (CV-3) brought home 29,204 Pacific veterans—more than any other single ship in the operation. The National WWII Museum
Salty takeaway: Christmas 1945 proved the Navy can win wars… and then immediately pivot to the hardest mission of all: getting everyone home without losing the plot (or the paperwork).
Sixth Watch (1600-1800) — Cape Gloucester, New Britain
On the Sixth Watch of Christmas, the Navy gave to me… a “Green Inferno” landing and a beachhead built out of black sand, heavy surf, and bad attitudes. NPS History
Before dawn on 26 December 1943, the men of the 1st Marine Division waited offshore while American and Australian cruisers and destroyers opened up—“shattering the early morning calm,” as the Marine Corps’ official commemorative history puts it. Division commander Maj. Gen. William H. Rupertus (fresh off Guadalcanal) was in charge, and the plan was blunt: hit the Yellow Beaches and push toward the two airfields at the tip of Cape Gloucester.
What was the point of this particular “Merry Christmas”?
Those airfields weren’t about creature comforts—they were about pressure. The same Marine Corps history explains that capturing the Cape Gloucester airfield complex would enable Allied airmen to intensify attacks on the Japanese fortress at Rabaul (roughly 300 miles away).
Who was on the pointy end?
The initial assault waves came from Col. Julian N. Frisbie’s 7th Marines, with named battalion commanders in the first waves including Lt. Col. William K. Williams (3/7) and Lt. Col. John E. Weber (1/7). The landing history describes Yellow Beach 1 as a narrow strip—about 500 yards—with later waves hampered by drifting smoke.
The “Green Inferno” wasn’t a nickname — it was a diagnosis
The same account doesn’t romanticize it: Marines came in through heavy surf onto a narrow beach of black sand, and just inland sat “the swamp forest and the Japanese defenders.” Dense jungle hid fortifications and dumps, forcing bombardment to neutralize whole areas rather than pick off neat targets.
A face to remember from this fight: “Chesty” Puller (and what happened when leaders went down)
If you want a “personality on the watchbill,” the Marine Corps History Division notes that Lt. Col. Lewis “Chesty” Puller (then the 7th Marines executive officer) earned his fourth Navy Cross at Cape Gloucester in January 1944, when battalion commanders were wounded—he moved under heavy machine gun and mortar fire, reorganized units for attack, and led them against a strongly fortified position.
Hero work that never makes the recruiting poster: the corpsman who kept moving
One documented example of “heroic actions on this watch” comes from a Navy Cross citation for Pharmacist’s Mate Second Class Lanson D. Mills, a medical corpsman with the 1st Marine Division at Cape Gloucester. His citation states that during 26 Dec 1943 – 3 Jan 1944 he repeatedly moved between gun positions under rifle and machine-gun fire to treat wounded, including administering blood plasma when evacuation was impossible.
And it didn’t end at the surf line
This wasn’t a one-day Christmas stunt. The 1st Marines’ official unit history notes that after the landing, fighting continued at places like Suicide Creek and Ajar Ridge into February 1944.
Salty takeaway: if your Christmas weekend involves swamp forest and enemy positions, you’ve earned whatever coffee you want—and then some.
Seventh Watch (1800-2000) — December 18, 1944
“Typhoon Cobra: when Poseidon doesn’t respect the Op Order.”
On the seventh watch of Christmas, Navy history gave to me: Typhoon Cobra hitting the U.S. Pacific Fleet in December 1944—an event that capsized reality for the Third Fleet under Adm. William F. Halsey. Three destroyers—Hull, Monaghan, and Spence—were lost, and hundreds of Sailors died in one of the most devastating weather disasters in U.S. Navy history. In the words of Admiral Chester Nimitz, the typhoon's impact "...represented a more crippling blow to the Third Fleet than it might be expected to suffer in anything less than a major action."
Salty takeaway: the sea doesn’t negotiate. Seamanship and weather judgment are combat skills—because the ocean can be the enemy.
Eighth Watch (2000-2359) — December 24, 1950 (Christmas Eve)
“Hungnam: the coldest Christmas gift—getting everyone out.”
On the eighth watch of Christmas, Navy history gave to me: the Hungnam evacuation, completed by Christmas Eve 1950—a seaborne withdrawal that moved 105,000 military personnel, 91,000 civilians, 17,500 vehicles, and 350,000 measurement tons of cargo. Naval History and Heritage Command+1
And then there’s the image that always hits like a fist: the merchant ship SS Meredith Victory carrying 14,000 Korean refugees—a staggering number for one vessel—out of Hungnam in December 1950.
Salty takeaway: sometimes the “gift” is not victory music. Sometimes it’s competence under pressure—and refusing to leave people behind.
Final mug hoist
If you’re standing a holiday watch this year—at sea, on duty, or just holding the line at home—this one’s for you. The Navy’s story is 250 years of showing up in late December when it would be easier not to.
Sea story time: Got a Christmas-watch memory (funny, miserable, heroic, all of the above)? Share it and upload a photo here: