Entertainment
Was John Wayne A ‘Draft Dodger’ During WWII? – My Blog
So I got into a brief exchange on Twitter the other day About John Wayne being a draft dodger in WWII. These claims go back for decades, leveled by biographers, some historians, and some who hate John Wayne for the image he enjoys as the expression of American manhood: Stoic, fair-minded, moral, and forthright. In his films, he tended to portray strong characters that protected the weak and meek often at the cost of great personal sacrifice.
To say that John Wayne was patriotic is an understatement. John Wayne for many Americans is patriotism itself. This is not to say that John Wayne always lived up to the high ideals that his characters embrace, he was a bit of a philanderer and was married three times. That is the problem with high ideals, they tend to be very hard to live up to. Much easier I suppose to embrace low ideals, no ever gets accused of failing to live up to low expectations, do they?
The draft dodging claims are offered under several variations:
John Wayne was a phony who didn’t want to fight in WWII, basically an accusation of cowardice.
John Wayne stayed home and made millions starring in motion pictures while others died in his place.
John Wayne was having a fling with Marlena Deitrich and didn’t want to leave her. This claim is put forward by Marc Eliot in his book “American Titan: Searching for John Wayne,” where he writes, “When she came into Wayne’s life, she juicily sucked every last drop of resistance, loyalty, morality, and guilt out of him, and gave him a sexual and moral cleansing as efficiently done as if she were draining an infected sore.”
Defenders of John Wayne are met with the rebuttal that other famous movie actors had served in uniform like Jimmy Stuart, Clark Gable, Ronald Reagan, and Henry Fonda and Wayne should have done the same. That is a rather simple rebuttal that fails to account for several things, like the way the draft worked during WWII versus voluntary enlistment, and the way Hollywood was brought directly into the war effort by President Roosevelt in a country fully mobilizing for total war against the Axis powers. Finally, as hard as it may be to believe, Gable, Fonda, Reagan, and Stewart were all much bigger stars at the time than John Wayne was. Those guys could pretty much do whatever they wanted in the military(or not do), Wayne was not in that position.
The Draft In World War II Was Nothing Like The Selective Service System That Replaced It
The U.S. adopted a draft system for enlistment in 1940, prior to the start of WWII, the original age was set between 21-35, it was later expanded to age 64. Citizens were responsible for filing registrations themselves. More than 45 million men registered. A lottery system was used to induct new enlistees. After three of these national lotteries, the system then went to one using birthdates, and groups were inducted by age, as in calling up every male born in March 1920. After being called up, there was a pre-induction physical with a rejection rate that ran between 33%-51%. Contrary to uninformed opinions, the military didn’t just take anyone with a pulse. Given the vast numbers being called up, the military rejected lots of enlistees for conditions that were treatable because the government didn’t want to pay for 100,000 hernia operations or replace hundreds of thousands of missing teeth to make men passable on the physical. Some enlistees with skills the military needed, doctors, machinists, mechanics, dentists who were too old or had physical defects would be inducted as not-suitable for combat duty and would remain stateside working in the long logistics tail of a military machine numbering over 12 million men and women in uniform. Nearly 40% of those in uniform were rear-echelon types working in clerical, supply, medical, and other administrative duties.
John Wayne registered for the draft(which is not the act of someone trying to dodge being drafted) and was told he was ineligible to serve because he was married and supporting four children. When Pearl Harbor was attacked, Wayne was just a year short of the age cut off. In 1941 there was no shortage of young men the military could pick from so he received a 3A classification, which was Uncle Sam saying to John Wayne, “Thanks, but we don’t need you.”
By 1943 however, the military still needed men and Wayne was given a 1A eligible status again since the maximum age had been extended to 63. You could no longer just enlist voluntarily either. As it turned out, guys were getting draft notices from the Army and they would dash over to the Coast Guard or Navy office and enlist instead.
When the government caught on to this President Roosevelt signed an Executive Order that ended voluntary enlistments in 1943. The draft system would be the only way into the military. As a result, about 75% of the enlisted men who served in WWII, were draftees.
Upon induction, enlistees were allowed to state a preference for either land or naval forces and by late in the war, even the Marine Corps was receiving draftees, but it all depended on the needs of the government. They would send you where they wanted you to go.
So this was the environment that John Wayne was living in at the time. The only way into the military was through the draft system, and that involved a physical that as many as half of the inductee would fail.
That 1A status that Wayne received was then challenged by Republic Studios which had him under contract to make a picture a year. Under that contract, they could also loan him out to other studios taking half the money paid to him as a commission. John Wayne in 1942 was not yet the star he would become. In 1939 he was ranked the 9th favorite cowboy movie star by fans being polled by trade papers in the movie industry. He had a starring role in Stage Coach that had brought him some fame, but he wasn’t Robert DeNiro in terms of stature yet by any means. Early in the war the Government fully enlisted Hollywood to make movies that kept up morale at home. Perhaps the most famous directors of their era, Frank Capra, John Ford and John Huston were all directly commissioned into the military to make films about why America needed to fight this war. We tend to think of Nazi Germany and Josef Goebbel’s when we turn the word “propaganda” into an image in our heads, but the truth was that Germany’s own propaganda efforts were modeled on our own. They admired us when it came to cranking out propaganda. Republic Studios needed to stay in the picture business to meet its obligations to the war effort at home and they wanted John Wayne deferred. And John Wayne didn’t have any say in that, he wasn’t a free agent, he was an employee.
So the government granted the request. This wasn’t treatment only meted out to celebrities. I had a distant relative who was a Captain in a New York National Guard unit when WWII began. His unit was activated and rolled into the 1st Infantry Division. So he packed his gear, told his employer he was recalled to active duty and was going off to war. His employer happened to be Standard Oil, the largest oil company in the country and he was a petrochemical engineer. Standard contacted the government, told them he was essential to the war effort, and before he could get on the train to go, he was involuntarily but honorably discharged and exempt from further military service. He didn’t like it one bit and tried to protest not just the government’s decision but also Standard Oil’s. He was politely reminded that there was a war on and what he personally wanted didn’t amount to a hill of beans. He would do as he was told, for the good of the country.
So John Wayne really didn’t have any choice here. He wasn’t a free agent, he was working as an employee of Republic and they had asked the government to defer him. Apparently, Wayne didn’t take it very well either. The head of the studio told him that if he tried to quit to join the military the studio would sue him for breach of contract. This begs the question: If the Duke was so determined to avoid being drafted, why would the studio head of Republic have to threaten him with a lawsuit if he left to join the military?
Critics of John Wayne have said that threats like these were common and never enforced, but John Wayne would have had no way of knowing that in 1943, would he?
John Wayne Would Have Failed The Induction Physical
I think there is very good reason to believe that even if John Wayne had been able to break his contract and volunteer he would have failed the induction physical on several disqualifying conditions.
Wayne stood 6 feet 4 inches and was quite an athlete in high school. So good that he had a full scholarship to USC as a football player. There are various reports of his suffering several injuries while in college. He suffered a broken collar bone at some point. Then while body surfing in the ocean off Southern California, he tore a shoulder muscle that never healed properly. Then he had his leg broken during practice his freshman year. Wayne’s injuries were sufficient to prevent him from playing football and he lost his scholarship to USC and dropped out. If these injuries were enough to keep him from playing football in his early twenties, they would certainly have prevented him from finishing boot camp in the Army or Marines at age 34.
Wayne was able to find work as a stunt man for John Ford in numerous westerns. These stunts would have been high falls from roofs and off horses. Wayne suffered injuries to his back that plagued him for the rest of his life. Later in his career, he took to wearing three-inch lifts in his shoes because slipped disks had reduced his height by some three inches.
That’s a lot.
Wayne also suffered from chronic ear infections which affected his hearing.
Wayne’s injuries combined with his age would have probably resulted in his being classified as 4F had he been called up and given an induction physical. Later in the war, the Draft Boards were looking past some things like flat feet, and missing fingers(not thumbs though) to make it’s manpower quotas, but it was doing this for young men, not men in their mid-thirties.
John Wayne in his USO uniform with Lt. Col. William Bleckwenn during Wayne’s three month USO in the South Pacific, December 1943
John Wayne Wasn’t A Big Star Like Clark Gable or Henry Fonda Who Did Serve In The Military.
As for the Hollywood leading men who did go to war like Jimmy Stuart and Clark Gable, a couple of points.
Jimmy Stuart was drafted in March of 1941 before the war had broken out. He was initally rejected for service for being too skinny. It is said he then drank a lot of beer for the carbs to get his weight up. The Army accepted him and Stuart got himself into the Air Corps and was taking correspondence courses to become an officer. Stuart was also a private pilot with 400 flight hours as a civilian. When the war did break out, he was already in the military and seemingly bent on a second career(or a change of careers) as a bomber pilot. Jimmy Stuart went on to fly combat missions in bombers over Europe, resumed his acting carreer, and retired from the Air Force a Brigadier General in the reserves.
Clark Gable was 40 when the war started and was beyond draft age or even voluntary enlistment age. He wrote a letter to President Roosevelt after the Pearl Harbor attack asking to join the military and FDR’s response was, “STAY WHERE YOU ARE,” meaning for him to stay in Hollywood making movies and doing war bond drives. His wife Carol Lombard was then killed a month after Pearl Harbor in a plane crash returning from a war bond tour. By some unknown means, Gable managed to enlist, get a billet to officer candidate school and be trained in aerial gunnery and photography. He was then assigned to the First Motion Picture Unit (FMPU) located at what was called “Fort Roach” – the Hal Roach Studios in Culver City, California. The FMPU was commanded by producer Jack Warner, as in Warner Brothers Studio. Jack Warner was probably the string-puller that got Clark Gable into the Army Air Corps at age 40 to go into his unit. Gable spent part of the war stateside making training films but managed to get himself over to Europe to make a propaganda film about B-17 bombing missions over Germany called “Combat America.” He even managed to get himself aboard to for bombing missions several times to film footage and take up a gunners position, as an officer. This was a job for enlisted men. Clark Gable never went to college and had dropped out of high school, and he still ended up with a commission as a Captain.
Gable would finish the film and see it released and requested being dismissed from active duty in 1944 because he was past the age for combat duty and returned to making movies. That request was granted and his discharge was signed by then Captain Ronald Reagan. This was pretty special treatment given to Gable given that a world war was raging. Very few officers could ask to be discharged and go back to being a civilian, you were in for the duration of the war, plus six months according to a decree by FDR. But it was Clark Gable asking and he was a big star at the time, the “King of Hollywood.”
Ronald Reagan was inducted and passed the physical. He didn’t take on Nazi Panzers single-handedly during the Battle of the Bulge, he spent the war in Hollywood making training films for the Signal Corps.
Henry Fonda joined the Navy in August of 1942 because he wanted to be in the war, and not make movies about the war. He refused a commission with two years of college preferring to earn it on merit. He was already a very famous actor when he enlisted making the equivalent of more than $2 million per movie in today’s dollars. He was a Quartermaster on a Destroyer, the USS Satterly. Fonda was 37 when he volunteered, technically past the age of enlistment, but he got a waiver. A year after enlisting Fonda was offered a commission as a full Lieutenant junior grade(O-2), rather than an ensign, again, the justification was his advanced age and success as an actor.
So, Clark Gable wrote his own ticket as the biggest star in Hollywood, the Army initially rejected Jimmy Stuart when we were desperately short of pilots and Ronald Reagan went into the Army to make movies for the Army. All received some special treatment from the government(maybe not in Stewart’s case) to enter the military based on their high celebrity status. In contrast, Wayne did not receive special treatment on his own, but only by the intervention of his employer who wanted to retain him for the war effort.
Vietnam. John Wayne signs Private First Class Fonsell Wofford’s helmet during his visit to the 3rd Battalion, 7th Marines, at Chu Lai..: 06/20/1966. Fleetwood, SSgt, Photographer; Department of Defense. Department of the Navy. U.S. Marine Corps.
John Wayne Didn’t Get Rich Sitting Out The War
Which brings me to the next point of criticism about Wanye not serving, that he stuck with the movies so he could cash in as a multi-millionaire while Americans were dying on the Sands of Iwo Jima. I was able to look at what John Wayne was actually getting per movie and it was by no means a shower of riches. Wayne had been on a year-to-year contract with Republic from 1938 to 1943. He made eight films in a serial format called “The Three Mesquiteers.” His lavish salary amounted to just $3,000 a film. That would be worth about $60,000 today. Is that rich? Republic then offered John Wayne a longer contract that ran from just 1943 to 1945. He made eight movies in that time period, including the “Fighting Seabees,” “They Were Expendable,” and “Back to Bataan.” He wasn’t paid big money for any of these pictures. For “Fighting Seabees” Wayne was paid $24,000. That would be about $460,000 today. That’s a pretty good payday, but it isn’t a king’s riches. Last year, Duane, “The Rock” Johnson was paid $50 Million for one movie. It should also be remembered that Wayne paid big taxes on that money in the 1940s, the IRS took 51% of it.
Unlike Clark Gable or Jimmy Stuart, John Wayne was not a big star in 1943, he was a B movie actor, and getting paid like one. He didn’t really become the Legendary John Wayne until at least 1949 with “Sands of Iwo Jima” and “She Wore A Yellow Ribbon.” He was still working for Republic but getting paid better, about $100,000 a picture. This payday jacked John Wayne’s taxes up to 85%. He was probably keeping more money on the movies that kept him in the 51% tax bracket.
People who accuse Wayne of wanting to cash do so imaging him as the megastar John Wayne of the 1950-60s rather than the B movie actor he was in the 1940s.
As to whether he really wanted to serve, it very much appears that he did. He wrote to Director John Ford who was a Commander in the Navy Reserves and headed up a motion picture unit documenting the war practically begging him,
“Have you any suggestions on how I should get in? Can you get me assigned to your outfit, and if you could, would you want me? How about the Marines? You have Army and Navy men under you. Have you any Marines or how about a Seabee or what would you suggest or would you? No I’m not drunk. I just hate to ask for favors, but for Christ sake you can suggest can’t you? No kidding, coach who’ll I see..”
In the National Archives, there are records of John Wayne writing to William Donovan at the OSS begging to give him a job in what would become the CIA. Those archives include his application and an acceptance letter from Donovan himself inviting Wayne into the OSS photographic unit. The letter never reached Wayne. It was sent to his ex-wife who was probably thinking of the alimony she would be giving up and never told him about the letter. It is ironic that biographers give her statements about John Wayne being ashamed about not serving such weight when she herself played a major role in preventing him from serving. It is possible that Wayne contacted Donovan on advice from John Ford for reasons stated above, he really wasn’t the kind of big-name star that Steward, Gable or Fonda were, guys who could pretty much write their own ticket
It is easy,(and also intellectually lazy and bordering on dishonest) to take a single point of data regarding John Wayne’s life in that time and build a draft dodger claim on it while excluding the totality of other things which directly point away to his avoiding service in the military in some way. On some points, like getting rich, the plain facts just don’t support it.
Finally, I think the “John Wayne was a Draft Dodger” claims fail most completely on this single point. In order to “Dodge” the draft it would require at minimum that the dodger get a draft notice, and John Wayne never got a draft notice, something even his most determined critics are forced to acknowledge.
Entertainment
My Roommate Demands I Pay Her Back Half the Rent Because She Was Away for Two Weeks
My roommate returned from a luxurious vacation with an insane demand: she wanted a refund of her rent since she hadn’t “used” her room for two weeks. Oh, I paid her some money alright, but it wasn’t what she was expecting.Hi, I’m Felicity. At 24, I was just trying to navigate life in an overpriced city with my roommate, Ashley. Sharing rent wasn’t just about friendship. It was all about survival. Most people couldn’t afford to live that area on their own.
A woman in a city | Source: MidjourneySo, Ashley and I struck a deal. We also always split things down the middle, and for a while, it worked out fine. That is, until she came back from a two-week vacation and decided the rules no longer applied to her.Let me explain a bit more about her. Ashley is definitely a “Keeping Up with the Joneses” kind of person. She would rather drown in debt than not have the latest things or go to the trendiest places.
A woman using her credit card in a store | Source: MidjourneyFor the most part, I didn’t care. It was her life. As long as her part of the rent came on time, her choices didn’t matter to me. But one time, her friends, most of whom had extremely rich parents, invited her on a vacation. They went to a beach resort and enjoyed all the luxuries they wanted. I saw the proof on Instagram. In my experience, rich people expect others to be rich too. You would think they’d treat their friends, but that’s not the case most of the time. 
A pool in a resort | Source: MidjourneyAlso, Ashley was paying for herself and had too much pride to say she couldn’t afford stuff. That’s one of her many issues. But again, it was her life. These choices didn’t affect me until she returned from the trip.As soon as she left her luggage in her room, she came out to the living room and bombarded me with stories about the dishes they ate, the places they saw, the men they flirted with, and the shopping they did. I nodded along as best as I could before she went to sleep.
A woman at a beach resort, laughing | Source: MidjourneyBut the following morning, while drinking coffee, she dropped a bomb on me.”You know,” she said, biting her bottom lip, “since I wasn’t here for two weeks, I think it’s fair if you refund me for half of my rent for this month.”At first, I cackled. “Good one, Ashley. You almost got me there,” I wheezed out.But she didn’t laugh back. Instead, she gave me one of those “I’m serious” looks she usually reserves for when Starbucks messes up her caramel drizzle ratio.
A woman in an apartment talking to another who can’t be seen | Source: Midjourney”Think about it, Felicity. I wasn’t here, so I wasn’t using the apartment or the utilities. Why should I pay for something I didn’t use?” she asked and smiled as if her logic was bulletproof.I blinked. “What are you even talking about? This isn’t like, a hotel where you only pay for the nights you stay. Rent doesn’t work that way. Also, you left your stuff here.”She shrugged. “That doesn’t matter. I wasn’t here, and you had the apartment to yourself. So, a refund is more than fair.”
A woman in an apartment talking to another who can’t be seen | Source: MidjourneyShe kept going, and each word out of her mouth sounded more entitled than the previous one. I knew why she was doing this, truly. it wasn’t because she actually thought her argument made sense, but because her credit cards were probably all maxed out after that ridiculous trip. She needed help, and this was her prideful way of trying to get it. I’m sorry, but I was not responsible for her poor financial choices, so I refused and went to my room to change for work. 
A woman in her room | Source: MidjourneyBut I should’ve known Ashley wasn’t done.Over the next few days, she decided to launch what I now refer to as the Great Post-it Campaign. Everywhere I turned, little neon notes were reminding me of what I “owed” her.”Rent Refund: $450,” one stuck to the fridge said. “Fair is fair!” another chirped from the bathroom mirror, and her snark didn’t stop there. She’d huff dramatically whenever we passed in the hall, muttering things like, “Some people have no integrity,” or, “Must be nice to pay half the rent and live alone.”
A woman with arms crossed | Source: MidjourneyWhen those hints didn’t work, she started slamming doors and plates. Making more noise than usual. All to get me to break. But I wasn’t going to, though she had me wondering if it might be time to move in with someone else.Anyway, Saturday came, and I thought I’d have to be locked up in my room to avoid more of her antics. But Ashley came out of her room, dressed to the nines, and left for the afternoon. She was definitely going to see her rich friends.
A woman dressed to go out | Source: MidjourneyAnd the moment the door closed behind her, inspiration struck. If Ashley wanted to play games, I’d show her how it’s done.I grabbed my phone and called Lila, my best friend since high school. She didn’t live in the city, but she was a two-hour train ride away.”Hey, what are you up to?” I asked.”Not much, just plotting world domination. Why?” she quipped. 
A woman using her phone | Source: Midjourney”Well, you might love this. Do you want to stay in the city for a few days? I’ve got a great and cheap room you can use,” I started, giggling, and when prodded, I explained my real intentions.Lila laughed and was on board before I even finished. “This is genius!” she said. “See you in two hours!” I just hoped Ashley wouldn’t return early.
A woman smiling while using her phone | Source: MidjourneyI was lucky. Lila arrived, and there was still no sign of Ashley, so we went to work with my… I guess, you could call it petty revenge.We boxed up Ashley’s stuff and placed them in my living room. Then we set up Lila’s “new” living situation. We brought in her suitcase, threw a throw blanket over the bed, and even added a “Welcome, Lila!” note on the dresser.
Boxes in a living room | Source: MidjourneyIt was like we were playing Airbnb. When we were done, we settled and waited for Ashley to get home. She arrived late that night, loudly jangling her keys as she closed our door, and called out, “Felicity, we need to talk!””Oh, hey!” I called back from the couch, trying to sound casual. “Listen, I found a new solution for our little issue.”There was a pause, then a confused, “What?”
A woman looking confused | Source: MidjourneyI stood from the couch and explained things, all matter-of-factly. “Well, I’ve finally understood the logic about your room.””Finally! I knew you wou—”But I interrupted her before she could go on. “I’ve also noticed that sometimes, particularly during the weekends, you leave our house for the entire day and even the entire night. So, starting today and until Tuesday night, I invited someone to stay in your room.”Her eyes widened. “What?” she asked, looking around. Her eyes zeroed in on the boxes. A second later, her heels were clicking rapidly on the floor as she stormed to her room, where Lila was casually lying on the bed. 
Woman walking in an apartment in heels | Source: Midjourney”Who the hell is this?” Ashley demanded. “What do you think you’re doing?!””Hi!” Lila said brightly. “I’m Lila. Thanks for letting me ‘rent’ this place! It’s nice to come to the city every once in a while without spending so much.”Ashley spun toward me, her voice climbing to a pitch only dogs could hear. “What is this?!” she screeched.
An angry woman | Source: Midjourney”I told you already,” I said innocently. “You don’t use your room on the weekends, so I’ll be renting it out from now on. This is the perfect compromise now that you’ve established the ground rules about rent and usage.” Ashley’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. “That’s not— I didn’t say— You can’t do this!” she shrieked some more.”Why not?” I asked, crossing my arms. “I’m using your logic. I can’t afford this place without your share, so I have to find temporary roommates for the days you’ll be away to comply with your logic.”
A woman smiling with arms crossed | Source: Midjourney”THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT! THIS IS DIFFERENT!” she insisted, stomping her foot.”Is it, though?” Lila chimed in, plopping onto the bed. “Feels the same to me.”I pulled a $100 bill out of my pocket. “And look, Lila has already paid for her entire stay. I calculated it correctly. Well, I rounded it up a bit. I won’t refund you for the two weeks you were away on vacation because we hadn’t talked about ‘the ground rules,’ but we won’t have an issue from now on.”
A woman taking money out of her pocket | Source: MidjourneyThe money was really mine, but Ashley didn’t need to know that. She stared at the bill in silence while her face turned redder and redder. After a second, she took it right out of my hand and turned away from me.”I’m calling the landlord,” she snapped on her way out of the door.Lila and I flew into a fit of giggles when she was gone. That scene was more than worth the $100 I’d just lost.
A woman laughing in a bed | Source: MidjourneyObviously, Ashley didn’t call the landlord. Instead, she sulked and was in and out of the apartment for the rest of the weekend while Lila enjoyed her “staycation.” Lila left that Tuesday night, and Ashley returned fully. She put her things back inside her room, and later, I noticed a lock on her door. She ignored me mostly, but the huffing and puffing was gone. The Post-Its didn’t return, and the noise disappeared.
A locked door | Source: MidjourneyAlso, there were no more discussions about a refund, and the next month’s rent came right on time. But I saw that she barely bought groceries for herself and was home most of the time. I wasn’t a monster, so I cooked double the amount I needed for dinner and offered her some every night. She would mutter her thanks. Slowly, things went back to normal. Well, as normal as they could be with Ashley. She hadn’t changed. She was just maxed out, and no one was bailing her out of her poor choices.
A woman in pajamas, eating popcorn | Source: MidjourneyIt wasn’t long before I started looking for a new job. The city was nice, but it was insane that I couldn’t afford to live on my own. When I got an offer in Lila’s town, I jumped at the chance. But I’ll always remember the time I out-pettied the pettiest person I knew. It’s a good story to tell at parties.
A woman at a party | Source: MidjourneyHere’s another story: When Sandra’s daughter, Abigail, calls her, she hears all about how Abby’s living situation is making her anything but happy. So, she decides to get into mom-mode and save the day for her daughter and her friends.This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
Entertainment
My Landlord Stole My Beautiful Christmas Tree and My Payback Was Harsh
Single mom Suzana saved all year to give her sons a magical Christmas. But when their evil landlord swiped the heart of their holiday — their beloved Christmas tree — she turned heartbreak into an unforgettable lesson in karma and a mother’s unstoppable love.I’m a single mom of two incredible little boys, Ethan and Jake. Christmas isn’t just a holiday in our house. It’s everything. While other families plan summer vacations, I squirrel away bits of my paycheck for our perfect Christmas tree. This year, after months of saving, we finally had our dream tree: seven feet of pure magic, decorated with twinkling lights and precious handmade ornaments.
A beautiful Christmas tree outside a house | Source: Midjourney”Mom! Mom! Look what I made in art class!” 8-year-old Ethan burst through the door, his backpack swinging wildly, waving a paper snowflake. Inside its center, he’d carefully glued a photo of the three of us from last summer’s picnic.”That’s gorgeous, honey!” I knelt to examine his handiwork. “Want to hang it on the special branch?””Can I put it next to my rocket ship?” 6-year-old Jake bounced over, pointing to his own masterpiece — a toilet paper roll painted silver with cardboard fins.
A cheerful little boy looking up | Source: Midjourney”How about right between your rocket and my angel?” I suggested, reaching for the step ladder.”Best spot ever!” Ethan carefully positioned his snowflake. “This tree is like a giant memory book, isn’t it, Mom?””Sure is, baby. Every ornament tells our story.””And it’s the prettiest tree on the whole street!” Jake declared, dancing around its base. “Even prettier than the one at the mall!”
A cheerful little boy | Source: Midjourney”Can we add more lights to the top?” Ethan asked, his eyes sparkling. “It needs to shine so Santa can see it from the North Pole!””Of course we can, honey. Let’s make it the brightest tree in town.”But that joy lasted exactly 21 hours and 16 minutes. At 5:07 p.m. on Christmas Eve, a sharp knock interrupted “Jingle Bell Rock.” There stood Mr. Bryant, our landlord, designer coffee in one hand, latest-model phone in the other. His cashmere scarf probably cost more than my monthly grocery budget.
A frowning man standing on the doorway | Source: Midjourney”Suzana!” He barely glanced up from his screen. “About the rent.”I straightened my shoulders. “It’s not due for another week, Mr. Bryant. Same as every month. There’s still time, right?””Just making sure you’re… AWARE!” His eyes then drifted to our tree, and something cold slithered across his face. “What exactly is THAT THING doing in the yard?””Our Christmas tree? We put it up last —””It needs to go.” He took a long sip of his coffee, grimacing like he’d tasted something bitter. “Fire hazard.”
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney”Fire hazard? It’s outside, Mr. Bryant. We’ve checked all the lights, and —””I’m sending a truck in an hour.” He turned to leave, then paused. “Oh, and happy holidays. Try to keep the noise down with all the… festivities.”I stood there, frozen, as his car purred away. Inside, the boys were decorating sugar cookies, completely unaware that our Christmas was about to be shattered.And then, the truck arrived.”But Mom, you promised until New Year’s!” Ethan’s voice cracked as the truck workers started disconnecting the lights from the tree. “Tell them to stop!”
A truck outside a house | Source: MidjourneyJake wrapped himself around my leg, tears streaming down his flour-dusted cheeks. “Why is the mean man taking our Christmas tree? Mommy, please tell him to stop. Were we bad? I… I promise to behave. Please tell him to stop.”I pulled them both close, fighting back my tears. “No, baby, you weren’t bad at all. Sometimes, grown-ups make decisions that don’t make sense.””But all our ornaments!” Ethan pulled away, his small fists clenched. “My snowflake! Jake’s rocket! Why are they taking everything?””Our tree was the prettiest tree on the block,” Jake cried. “It’s not Christmas without a tree.”
A little boy crying | Source: PixabayWe stood there helpless, watching as the men loaded our beautiful tree onto the truck, ornaments and all. My boys’ quiet sobs felt like tiny daggers in my heart. The truck drove away, taking our Christmas joy with it.That night, after tucking two heartbroken boys into bed, I sat in our empty living room, staring at the rectangular patch of dead grass outside where our tree had stood. The silence felt heavy, broken only by muffled sniffles from the boys’ room.”I hate Mr. Bryant,” Ethan whispered from the hallway, his voice thick with tears. “He stole our Christmas.””Me too,” Jake added softly. “Santa won’t even know where to find us without our tree. It’s all Mr. Bryant’s fault. He’s a bad man. I wish the cookie monster takes him.”
A distressed and teary-eyed little boy | Source: PexelsThe next morning, I dropped the boys at their grandma’s for our traditional Christmas breakfast. Taking the long way home to clear my head, I nearly drove off the road when I passed Mr. Bryant’s house at the end of the street.For a moment, I FROZE at the sight before me.There it was. Our tree. Our beloved Christmas tree. On Mr. Bryant’s yard. With every handmade ornament, every careful decoration, even the crooked star Ethan had insisted on placing himself. But now it sported an enormous golden star on top and a sign that made my blood boil: “MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM THE BRYANTS!”
A beautifully decorated Christmas tree outside a house | Source: MidjourneyMy hands shook as I called Jessie, my best friend since we shared crayons in third grade.”He didn’t just steal a tree,” I choked out. “He stole my kids’ Christmas! Ethan’s snowflake, Jake’s rocket ship… they’re all there, Jess. He’s displaying my children’s memories like they’re his own!””That entitled piece of —” Jessie hissed. “Girl, I haven’t heard you this upset since Jonathan stole your lunch money in fifth grade.””At least Jonathan only took my money. This is different. Mr. Bryant… he STOLE our Christmas.”
A furious woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney”And what did we do to Jonathan?””We filled his locker with shaving cream and glitter.” I smiled at the memory. “It took him weeks to get it all out of his jacket.””Exactly. So what’s the plan? Because you do have a plan. I hear it in your voice.””Maybe. How do you feel about a little midnight adventure?””Girl, I’ve been waiting all year to wear my black yoga pants for crime. What time should I come over?”
A woman talking on the phone | Source: PexelsAt midnight, dressed in black hoodies and armed with more supplies than a craft store, we crept across Mr. Bryant’s perfectly manicured lawn.”These gloves make me feel like a cat burglar,” Jessie whispered, carefully removing each ornament. “Though I doubt most burglars use unicorn print.””More like Santa’s revenge squad!” I gathered my boys’ handmade decorations in a bag, my heart aching as I recognized each one. “Look, he even kept the candy cane Jake made from pipe cleaners.””What a jerk.” Jessie frowned. “Hey, what’s that noise?”
Christmas decor items in a bag | Source: MidjourneyWe froze as a car passed, then burst into nervous giggles when it continued down the street.”Remind me why we’re not just taking the tree and some of your boys’ ornaments?” Jessie asked, wrestling with a particularly stubborn ornament.”Because then we’d be thieves, just like him. We’re going to do something much better.”We worked methodically, replacing Mr. Bryant’s gaudy additions with something special. Foot-wide letters in silver duct tape wound around the tree, flaunting the message: “PROPERTY OF SUZANA, ETHAN & JAKE!”
A message on duct tape wound around a Christmas tree | Source: Midjourney”Wait!” Jessie pulled out a can of glitter spray. “Let’s make it festive. Red or silver?””Both. It is Christmas, after all.”The next morning, I parked down the street with two cups of coffee and a clear view of Mr. Bryant’s house. At 8:15 a.m., his front door opened.The string of curses that followed would have made a sailor blush.”Everything okay, Mr. Bryant?” Mrs. Adams, his next-door neighbor, called out while walking her poodle. She’d lived there for 30 years and took no nonsense from anyone, especially not Mr. Bryant.
A senior man gaping in shock | Source: Midjourney”Someone vandalized my tree!” He gestured wildly at the glittering message. “This is destruction of private property!”Mrs. Adams adjusted her glasses, squinting at the tree. “Is that little Jake’s rocket ship ornament? And Ethan’s paper snowflake?””What? No! This is my tree!””Then why does it say ‘Property of Suzana, Ethan & Jake’ in giant sparkling letters? Wait a minute. Did you steal their tree?”
An older lady pointing her finger | Source: Midjourney”I… I… this is outrageous! It was a fire hazard. I just moved it here.””What’s outrageous is stealing a single mother’s Christmas tree on Christmas Eve.” Mrs. Adams’s voice could have frozen fire. “What would your mother, bless her soul, think, Mr. Bryant?”By noon, photos of Mr. Bryant and the tree were circulating online. Someone had captioned: “When the Grinch Meets Karma” and “Why Stealing Someone’s Christmas is a BAD Idea!”The doorbell rang at sunset. Mr. Bryant stood there, our tree dragging behind him, his face the color of a ripe tomato.
An annoyed senior man standing against the backdrop of a Christmas tree | Source: Midjourney”Here’s your tree,” he muttered, refusing to meet my eyes. Glitter dusted his expensive shoes.”Thank you, Mr. Bryant. The boys will be so happy.”He turned to leave but stopped. “The rent’s still due on the first.””Of course. And Mr. Bryant? You might want to hose down your lawn. I hear glitter can last through spring.”
A cheerful woman smiling | Source: MidjourneyAn hour later, another knock surprised us. Mrs. Adams stood there with five other neighbors, their arms full of ornaments, cookies, and an incredibly stunning Christmas tree.”For inside the house,” she explained, hugging me tight. “No child should cry on Christmas. And Mr. Bryant should know better. His own mother was a single mom, back in the day.”The neighbors helped us set up both trees, sharing stories and cookies while Ethan and Jake bounced around, their earlier sadness forgotten as they hung new ornaments alongside their rescued treasures.
A stunning Christmas tree in a house | Source: Pexels”Mom!” Jake called out, carefully placing his rocket ship on a branch. “Look! Now we have two wonderful trees!””This really is the best Christmas ever!” Ethan added, his smile brighter than any tree light.And just like that, our home was filled with love, laughter, and holiday cheer. As for Mr. Bryant? He hasn’t bothered us since. Karma really is the gift that keeps on giving.
A cheerful woman | Source: MidjourneyHere’s another story: Margaret’s Thanksgiving was shattered when her 5-year-old daughter threw the turkey onto the floor and screamed: “I SAVED YOU ALL!” The confession that followed left everyone rattled. This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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A Stranger Sat Next to Me While My Dying Husband Was in the Hospital and Told Me to Put a Hidden Camera in His Ward to Uncover a Truth
Diana was painfully preparing herself to say goodbye to her dying husband in the hospital. While she was struggling to process that he had only a few weeks left to live, a stranger approached and whispered the jolting words: “Set up a hidden camera in his ward… you deserve to know the truth.”I never thought my world would end in a hospital corridor. The doctor’s words echoed through my skull like a death knell: “Stage four cancer… metastasized… he’s got a few weeks to live.” The diagnosis shattered the future I’d planned with Eric. Fifteen years of marriage reduced to a handful of days. The golden band on my finger felt suddenly heavy, weighted with memories of better times: our first dance, morning coffees shared in comfortable silence, and the way he’d stroke my hair when I was sad.
A heartbroken woman standing in a hospital ward | Source: Midjourney My stomach churned as I watched other families passing by. Some were crying, some laughing, and some were frozen in that peculiar limbo between hope and despair. I knew I had to get out before I shattered completely.I stumbled through the automatic doors, the late September air hitting my face like a gentle slap. My legs carried me to a bench near the entrance, where I collapsed more than sat. The evening sun cast long, distorted shadows across the hospital grounds, mirroring the agony in my heart. That’s when she appeared.
A sad woman sitting in a hospital corridor | Source: MidjourneyShe wasn’t remarkable at first glance. Just an ordinary nurse in her late 40s, wearing navy scrubs, with tired eyes that held something. Her silver-streaked hair was pulled back in a bun, and her shoes were the sensible kind worn by someone who spent long hours on their feet. She sat beside me without asking, her presence both intrusive and oddly calming.”Set up a hidden camera in his ward,” she whispered. “He’s not dying.”The words hit me like ice water. “Excuse me? My husband is dying. The doctors confirmed it. How dare you—”
A nurse sitting on a chair | Source: Midjourney”Seeing is believing.” She turned to face me fully. “I work nights here. I see things. Things that don’t add up. Trust me on this… you deserve to know the truth.”Before I could respond, she stood and walked away, disappearing through the hospital doors like a phantom, leaving me with nothing but questions.That night, I lay awake in the bed, my mind racing. The stranger’s words played on repeat, competing with memories of Eric’s diagnosis day. How he’d gripped my hand as the doctor delivered the news, and how his face had crumpled in despair. 
A confused woman holding her head | Source: MidjourneyWhat did she mean by ‘He’s not dying’? The thought seemed impossible, yet that spark of doubt wouldn’t die. By morning, I’d ordered a small camera online with overnight delivery, my hands shaking as I entered my credit card information.I slipped into his room while Eric was getting his routine scan the next day.My hands trembled as I positioned the tiny camera among the roses and lilies in the vase on the windowsill. Each movement felt like a betrayal, but something deeper pushed me forward.”I’m sorry,” I whispered, though I wasn’t sure if I was apologizing to Eric or myself.
A woman hiding a small camera in a flower vase | Source: MidjourneyAn hour later, Eric was back in bed, looking pale and drawn. His hospital gown made him seem smaller somehow, and more vulnerable. “Where were you?” he asked weakly.”Just getting some coffee,” I lied. “How was the scan?”He winced as he shifted in bed, the sheets rustling softly. “Exhausting. The pain’s getting worse. I just need to rest.”I nodded, squeezing his hand. “Of course. I’ll let you sleep.”
A man lying in a hospital bed | Source: MidjourneyThat evening, after making sure Eric was settled for the night, I went home and sat on my bed. The laptop’s blue glow illuminated my face as I accessed the camera feed, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. For hours, nothing happened. Eric slept, nurses came and went, and I began to feel foolish for listening to a stranger.Then, at 9 p.m., everything changed.The ward door opened, and a woman entered. She was tall, confident, and wearing a sleek leather coat. Her perfectly styled dark hair caught the light as she approached Eric’s bed, and what happened next made my blood run cold.Eric, my supposedly “DYING” husband, sat up straight. No struggle. No pain. He seemed happy. The kind of happiness that seemed out of place on the face of a dying man.
A woman in a hospital ward | Source: MidjourneyHe swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, pulling her into an embrace that looked anything but weak. When they kissed, I felt my wedding ring burn against my finger like a painful sting.My heart shattered as I watched them talk, although the camera didn’t capture the audio, their body language was intimate and familiar. She handed him some papers, which he carefully tucked under his mattress. They looked like they were planning something big, and I needed to know what.
A smiling man holding documents | Source: MidjourneyThe next morning, I returned to Eric’s room, my heart heavy with the secret I wasn’t supposed to know. He was back in character — pale, weak, struggling to sit up.”Morning, sweetheart,” he rasped, reaching for the glass of water with trembling hands. “Bad night. The pain… it’s getting worse.”I wanted to scream and hold him by the collar for answers. Instead, I smiled, the expression feeling like broken glass on my face. “I’m sorry to hear that. Anything I can do?”He shook his head, and I watched him perform his role perfectly. How many times had I cried myself to sleep believing this act? How many nights had I prayed for a miracle while he was probably planning something with his secret lover?
A stunned woman | Source: MidjourneyI didn’t go home that evening. Hidden in the parking lot, I waited, my phone ready to record the truth. I knew his mistress would visit. Sure enough, the woman in the leather coat appeared, moving through the hospital with the confidence of someone who belonged there. This time, I quietly followed her, keeping just close enough to hear.Their voices drifted through the ward’s partially open door. “Everything’s arranged,” she said, her tone businesslike. “Once you’re declared dead, the insurance money will be transferred offshore. We can start our new life.”
A cheerful woman in a hospital ward | Source: MidjourneyEric’s response was eager and delighted. “That’s awesome, Victoria. Dr. Matthews came through perfectly. Cost me a fortune to get him to fake the diagnosis, but it was worth it. A few more days of this act, and we’re free. Diana won’t suspect a thing. She’s already planning my funeral.””The mourning widow whose husband is very much alive!” Victoria chuckled softly. “You should have seen her face when she visited me today. So concerned and so loving. It’s almost sad, poor thing!” Eric laughed.”She was always dumb,” Victoria replied, and I heard the smirk in her voice. “But that’s what made her perfect for this. Once you’re ‘dead,’ she’ll get the insurance payout, and we’ll transfer it all before she knows what hit her. Then it’s just you and me, darling.”
A man laughing | Source: MidjourneyThe casual cruelty of their words cut deeper than any sharp blade. Fifteen years of marriage reduced to a con job. Agony filled my eyes, but it wasn’t the time for tears.I recorded everything on my phone, my mind already forming a plan. They wanted to play games? Fine. I could play games too.The next day, I made calls. Lots of calls. To family, friends, coworkers — anyone who’d ever cared about Eric. My voice broke at just the right moments as I delivered the news: “His condition has worsened dramatically. The doctors say it’s time to say goodbye. Please come today. He’d want you all here.”
A woman holding a phone | Source: MidjourneyBy evening, Eric’s room was packed. His parents stood by his bed, his mother sobbing quietly into a handkerchief. Colleagues murmured condolences. Friends from college shared memories of better days. Eric played his part, looking appropriately weak and grateful for the support, though I could see panic beginning to creep into his eyes as more people arrived.I waited until the room was full before stepping forward. My hands weren’t shaking anymore. “Before we say our final goodbyes,” I announced, my eyes boring into Eric’s, “there’s something you all need to see. My dear husband, bless his ‘dying’ soul, has been keeping a huge secret from all of us…”Eric’s eyes widened. “Diana, what are you doing?”
A man gaping in shock | Source: MidjourneyI connected my laptop to the room’s TV screen. The footage began to play: Eric, very much alive, embracing his mistress, Victoria. Then, the phone recording of their conversation about faking his death, bribing Dr. Matthews, and stealing the insurance money.The room erupted in chaos.His mother’s sobs turned to screams of rage. “How could you do this to us? To your wife?” His father had to be held back by two of Eric’s brothers. Victoria chose that moment to arrive, stopping dead in the doorway as she realized their plan had crumbled to dust.
A shocked woman | Source: MidjourneyThe security arrived, followed by police. I watched as they led Eric away in handcuffs, his protests falling on deaf ears. Dr. Matthews was also arrested, and his medical license was suspended pending investigation. Victoria tried to slip away but didn’t make it past the elevator.I filed for divorce the very next day and returned to that bench outside the hospital, hoping to meet the thoughtful stranger who’d saved me from dealing with the biggest betrayal of my life. The same woman who’d warned me sat down beside me, this time with a small smile.
A nurse sitting on a chair and smiling | Source: Midjourney”Thank you,” I said, watching the sunset paint the sky in shades of endings and beginnings. “You saved me from a different kind of grief.””I overheard them one night during my rounds. Couldn’t let them destroy your life. Sometimes the worst diseases aren’t the ones that kill you. They’re the ones that silently grow in the hearts of those we love, feeding on our trust until there’s nothing left.”
A nurse looking at someone and smiling | Source: MidjourneyI lost my husband, but not to cancer. I lost him to his greed and lies. But in losing him, I found something more valuable: my truth, my strength, and the knowledge that, sometimes, the kindness of strangers can save us from the cruelty of those we love most.As I drove home that evening, my wedding ring sat in my pocket like a small, heavy reminder of everything I’d lost and everything I’d gained.The setting sun painted the sky in brilliant oranges and reds, and for the first time in weeks, I felt like I could breathe again. Sometimes, the end of one story is just the beginning of another.
A smiling woman in a car | Source: MidjourneyHere’s another story: Abigail became a surrogate for her childless sister and gave birth to a beautiful baby. But her joy turned into heartbreak when her sister said: “THIS ISN’T THE BABY WE EXPECTED. WE DON’T WANT IT.”This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
My Roommate Demands I Pay Her Back Half the Rent Because She Was Away for Two Weeks
My Landlord Stole My Beautiful Christmas Tree and My Payback Was Harsh
A Stranger Sat Next to Me While My Dying Husband Was in the Hospital and Told Me to Put a Hidden Camera in His Ward to Uncover a Truth
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