Merry Christmas from the Johnsons
If Santa had a Christmas list for the Cold War, it might look something like General Harold K. Johnson’s. A Finnish immigrant, a Vietnam War widow, and a future president of the United States all made the cut — a testament to the global reach and personal touch of a man who led the Army during the 1960s.
Each name on the list tells a story about the Cold War’s “where” and “who.” Alpo K. Marttinen emigrated from Finland and wrote the U.S. Army’s winter warfare doctrine. He received cards from General Johnson at Fort Riley, in Panama, and in Iran. Nancy Lynch, the widow, was pregnant with her second child when her husband was killed in Vietnam. Her husband, Richard, died advising a battalion of Vietnamese rangers in 1964 after serving as Johnson’s aide. Governor Ronald Reagan, a rising political star in 1967, received a card too. Together, these recipients — and hundreds of others — illustrate the Army’s global presence, deep relationships, and evolving priorities during this critical period.
I stumbled across Johnson’s Christmas card lists last year in the Army’s archives. As the sender of more than 100 cards each December myself, Johnson’s list provided a window into the man’s private life and relationships — and the sometimes unsung work of military spouses. My family’s cards keep us connected with old friends and comrades, give my kids a glimpse of their ever-moving friends around the world, nurture aspirational relationships, and reinforce existing bonds.
Johnson’s lists — with entries ranging from Army specialists to statesmen — struck me like a snow globe, capturing a frozen moment of the Cold War’s people and places, shaken to life with each name and address.
Johnson’s Cold War Christmas Cards
Johnson sent a lot of Christmas cards to a lot of places. Born in Bowesmont, North Dakota — a near–ghost town today — Johnson survived World War II as a prisoner of the Japanese, fought in Korea, and became the second youngest chief of staff of the U.S. Army. A 1933 West Point graduate, he married Dorothy Rennix in 1935. In the Philippines at the start of World War II, he survived the Bataan Death March and spent the war in captivity. Then, during the Korean War, Johnson earned a Distinguished Service Cross, the country’s second highest military decoration for heroism, for his actions at the Pusan Perimeter. As a new general, Johnson relocated the 8th Infantry Division from Fort Carson, Colorado, to Germany, where it remained until casing its colors in 1992. Johnson stayed in Germany in Army and NATO assignments until 1960. Johnson then commanded the Army’s Command and General Staff College at Fort Leavenworth, where he taught students to “challenge the assertion” — a phrase mentioned by President Lyndon Johnson when General Johnson retired. After a short stint as the Army’s senior operations officer, Johnson leapfrogged 43 other officers to become the chief of staff. In that role, he advocated for counter-insurgency in Vietnam over an attritional approach. As chief of staff of the Army from 1964 to 1968, Johnson balanced the weight of global responsibilities with a deep commitment to faith, family, and tradition — never failing to send Christmas cards that reflected the relationships and priorities of a remarkable life.
Johnson’s Christmas card lists are lengthy, but it appears that he only checked them once. This article is based on 785 address entries from three lists: his hand-written 1959 list has 164 entries; his typed 1963 list has 264 entries; and his staff-prepared 1967 list has 357 entries.
Interpreting these lists required some judgment, as the snippet below from his 1959 list shows. I’m not an expert in the mid–Cold War or Johnson’s story, so my interpretation leaned heavily on Lewis Sorley’s Honorable Warrior and Johnson’s archived correspondence.
Image credit: U.S. Army Heritage and Education Center
As we analyze Johnson’s card lists, note that these lists only provide a snapshot of his network. Just as my family’s list evolves through a mix of dusting off the old list, considering who has sent us cards recently, and my recent contacts, Johnson’s list likely does not capture the full breadth of his relationships or their significance. While the names, ranks, and locations on the lists enable us to uncover trends and ask questions, they also require careful inference and recognizing what’s missing — both in context and intent.
First, we’ll look at the “where” of his cards.
Christmas Greetings Across the Globe
The destinations of Johnson’s Christmas cards correspond with the Army’s global footprint during the Cold War. They reveal expected hubs like Germany and Vietnam, surprising gaps in the Middle East, and the evolution of U.S. military priorities. These addresses are more than places on a map; they trace the Army’s shifting presence and Johnson’s personal ties to its operations worldwide.
The “hexbin” map below provides a sense of where Johnsons’ card destinations — and the disposition of the Army in the 1950s and 1960s. Cards across the United States land roughly as expected: a plurality (211 entries) in a tight cluster around Washington, DC, and on the east coast, as well as concentrations in Kansas (42), including Fort Leavenworth and Fort Riley, and California (25).
Image credit: Author
It is also a map of a different Army. While California remains a center of the Navy today, Reagan’s California is bright red on the map, hinting at the much more significant Army presence then. The ancient Presidio of San Francisco received 10 cards, as the Presidio of Monterey and Fort Ord received three. Today, the only significant Army installation in California is the Mojave Desert’s Fort Irwin, home of the National Training Center. Though a king-maker assignment today, it hardly existed then. Likewise, Fort Holabird in southeast Baltimore received two cards, while Fort McPherson in southwest Atlanta received one. Over time, congressional cost-cutting closed these city locations in favor of larger, more economical bases.
Abroad, the large number of cards to Europe, Korea, and Japan reflects the Army’s force posture that has existed since the end of World War II. Then, as now, force posture was not static. As the deputy division commander, Johnson brought the 8th Infantry Division from Fort Carson to Germany as part of Operation Gyroscope — which is remarkably similar to today’s rotation of brigades.
Johnson’s cards to Vietnam match increased American involvement there. He sent only one card there in 1959 to Lt. Col. Tyrone Tisdale. In 1963, Tisdale, back in Vietnam as an advisor, and three others received cards. The count jumped to 12 in 1967 including General Cao Văn Viên, the chairman of the South Vietnamese joint general staff.
Other cards sent abroad went to lesser known or forgotten Army sites. He sent three cards to the Ryukyu Islands (including Okinawa), which the United States governed directly until 1972. He also sent five cards to Panama, where the Army secured the Panama Canal from 1903 to 1979.
The cards also remind us how much U.S. foreign policy has changed. Hundreds of thousands of Americans have cycled through Iraq, Afghanistan, Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, and other countries over the last three decades, but the Middle East was not a focus for the Army in the 1960s. Johnson sent only a single card to the Middle East — and it went to Iran. That card went in 1967 to Colonel Marttinen, the post-war Finnish immigrant, who served on the Military Assistance Advisory Group in Iran about 10 years before the Iranian revolution.
Turkey, which straddles Europe and the Middle East, also received four cards. Turkey joined NATO in 1952, and Johnson sent three cards to Americans working for the Joint American Military Mission for Aid to Turkey and the Central Treaty Organization. As one of many post-war attempts to create NATO-like entities, the organization included Iran, Iraq, Pakistan, Turkey, and the United Kingdom.
Disappointingly, Johnson’s card destinations miss some important Cold War locations. Santa could have popped over to the Army’s nuclear-powered Camp Century under Greenland’s ice sheet or celebrated a tropical Christmas on Kwajalein, but Johnson didn’t send cards to either. Likewise, I imagine the chief of staff of the Air Force and chief of naval operations probably sent cards to the Philippines, which hosted Clark Air Base and the Navy base at Subic Bay, or places like Korat Royal Thai Air Force Base that housed units like the 388th Fighter Wing during the Vietnam War.
Delivering gifts to military families during the mid–Cold War must have taken quite a bit of Santa’s time and attention as people moved around the world. However, Johnson’s cards followed people. From generals to soldiers, and family to political leaders, the “who” behind the cards shows the human side of the Cold War.
A Personal Touch
Harold K. Johnson’s Christmas cards were more than holiday greetings. Through them, he may have rekindled old friendships, built new bridges, and celebrated the bonds that mattered most, all while juggling the demands of a life leading the Army.
Many of Johnson’s cards went to family, close friends, and trusted colleagues. A core group of 70 people received cards in 1959, 1963, and 1967, showing their enduring significance in his life. In that group, thick linkages to family and friends in the upper Midwest is clear. Each year, Johnson sent a family Christmas newsletter to his closest friends and family members. His 1966 letter is the quintessential Christmas update: he announced the birth of his new grandson Matt, wished his son Jim well as he shipped out for Vietnam, explained his other son Bobby’s decision to withdraw from West Point, and even assigned presents to people. While the addressee list for these annual updates is not entirely clear, Johnson sent 41 cards across the Dakotas and Minnesota. This included five members of the Johnson family in North Dakota and Minnesota receiving eight cards total, and seven delivered to the town of Aberdeen, South Dakota.
Johnson also reinforced bonds with junior soldiers and subordinates. Sergeant First Class Frank Kaiser, his longtime driver (and sometimes gardener), received a card in 1959, while Sergeant Warren Barlow received three cards over the years. Barlow even sent Johnson a heartfelt reply outlining his goals for personal and professional growth in 1968.
Johnson’s cards often reflected a deep commitment to reconnecting with old friends and honoring past relationships. Several widows of his former colleagues received cards, such as Mrs. Joseph W. Stilwell and Mrs. Herman Beukema. General “Vinegar Joe” Stilwell had passed away in 1946, while Brig. Gen. Herman Beukema, a key figure in West Point’s Department of Social Sciences, died in 1960. Continuing to send them letters reflects a commitment to their memory and suggests friendships between their spouses.
In 1967, perhaps recognizing his final year as Chief of Staff, Johnson sent cards to old friends. Frank Anders, a fellow prisoner of war in World War II, received a card that year. Rescued ahead of Johnson, Anders had informed Johnson’s wife that he was still alive in the chaotic end of the war. Similarly, Oren Hurlburt, a West Point classmate and longtime friend, received cards in 1963 and 1967. Hurlburt’s support during Johnson’s recovery in the Philippines, including steak dinners and jeep rides, underscores the enduring nature of these friendships.
But beyond personal ties, many of his cards also seem aimed at building relationships with leaders, both within and outside the military. Of the 785 cards he sent, 15 went to people addressed as “Honorable,” signaling their significant roles in government. In 1967, these included Ronald Reagan, then the governor of California; the 46th speaker of the House of Representatives; and the chief executive officer of Lockheed. This list reflects the connections Johnson built as a senior military leader, bridging the worlds of defense, industry, and politics.
He extended this practice to foreign leaders, often cultivating newer, transactional relationships alongside long-standing friendships. In 1963, Johnson sent cards to four military educators in the Republic of China, though none appear on the 1959 or 1967 lists. In 1967, he sent a card to Bernardino Parada Moreno, former commander-in-chief of the Chilean Army and ambassador to Paraguay, whom Johnson had hosted during a visit. Other relationships withstood the test of time. French Army General Pierre Renauld received letters in all three years as both he and Johnson rose from major generals to full generals. In 1963 and 1967, he also sent cards to German Army General Friderich “Fritz” Berendson, who appears to have fought in the Vietnam War, surprisingly. In 1967, Johnson also sent a card to Maj. Gen. Chan Ansuchote of the Thai Border Police. They reconnected many years after first meeting in the Command and General Staff College class of 1949.
Despite Johnson’s expansive list, there were notable omissions. For instance, while he sent a card to his longtime driver Sergeant Frank Kaiser in 1959, Kaiser is absent from subsequent lists. Similarly, Johnson’s first first sergeant, Frank Cumiskey, is curiously excluded. Johnson and Cumiskey exchanged many letters (such as this congratulatory note), and Johnson even attributes his early success in the Army to him. Like many holiday mailing lists, Johnson’s had its oversights, but his cards remind us of the power of small gestures to honor relationships, near and far — a lesson worthy of heeding in our own lives.
The Army Goes Rolling Along
Gen. Harold K. Johnson’s Christmas cards remind us that the “who” often matters more than the “where.” The Army goes rolling along, stationed in dozens of countries worldwide, but it’s the people — leaders, soldiers, and families — who form the true backbone of its mission. As you toast your family this holiday season, take a moment to think about everyone on the line, far from home. They have little say in where they are sent, but they serve our country.
These cards also underscore the importance of preserving and studying archives like those the Army maintains at Carlisle Barracks, Pennsylvania. Johnson’s lists, though incomplete and imperfect, provide a snapshot of the Army’s priorities and relationships during a critical time in the Cold War. They show how the personal and professional intersect, revealing the power of connection — and its gaps. Perhaps, in his ambition or the demands of his position, Johnson overlooked some personally important people. His example challenges us to do better: to reach out to those who matter in our lives, not just during the holidays but all year long.
The Army’s story is one of places and people, and Johnson’s cards serve as a small but poignant reminder of both. Through these simple holiday greetings, we are encouraged to think about who we value, why they matter, and how we can honor their contributions — whether they are family, colleagues, or those far from home keeping the Army’s mission alive.
Zachary Griffiths is an Army officer who directs the Harding Project to renew professional military writing.
