[OT] A Soldiers Christmas

Just a quick note and poem of rememberance for all of those that serve
in
harm's way during the holidays, all services, all nations, all faiths. 
The
full site is at http://mrmom.amaonline.com/asoldierschristmas.htm

"THE SOLDIERS NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS"

  By Major Bruce W. Lovely

   (With Apologies to Clement Moore Who First Wrote the Story for His
Children
in 1822 also credit given to M/Sgt Noah Brazos Ross, RA18033195, a
USArmy 18th
Field Artillery survivor of Utah Beach, France, Luxembourg, Belgium,
Battle
for the Ardennes, Deutschland  wrote "Daddy's Christmas" (Soldier's
Christmas)" as a Bonita, Montague County, Texas, highschool exercise in
1937)

			      Twas the night before Christmas, he lived
all
alone,
				In a one bedroom house made of plaster &
stone.
			       I had come down the chimney with presents
to
give
				   And to see just who in this home did
live.

				  I looked all about a strange sight I
did
see,
				   No tinsel, no presents, not even a
tree.
			       No stocking by the fire, just boots
filled with
sand,
				 On the wall hung pictures of far
distant
lands.

				  With medals and badges, awards of all
kind
				   A sober thought came through my mind.
				For this house was different, so dark
and
dreary,
			  I knew I had found the home of a soldier, once
I
could see clearly.

				 I heard stories about them, I had to
see more
			       So I walked down the hall and pushed open
the
door.
				   And there he lay sleeping silent
alone,
				Curled up on the floor in his one
bedroom
home.

				 His face so gentle, his room in such
disorder,							 
				  Not how I pictured a United States
soldier
						Was this the hero of
whom I’d just read?
				 Curled up in his poncho, a floor for
his bed?

			       His head was clean shaven, his weathered
face
tan,
				 I soon understood this was more than a
man.
				 For I realized the families that I saw
that
night
			      Owed their lives to these men who were
willing
to fight.

				Soon ‘round the world, the children
would
play,
			     And grownups would celebrate on a bright
Christmas day.
				They all enjoyed freedom each month of
the
year,
				 Because of soldiers like this one lying
here.

				  I couldn’t help wonder how many lay
alone
				On a cold Christmas Eve in a land far
from
home.
				Just the very thought brought a tear to
my
eye,
				   I dropped to my knees and started to
cry.

				The soldier awakened and I heard a rough
voice,
				   "Santa don’t cry, this life is my
choice;
				   I fight for freedom, I don’t ask for
more,
				  my life is my God, my country, my
Corps."

				With that he rolled over and drifted off
into
sleep,
				   I couldn’t control it, I continued
to weep.
				  I watched him for hours, so silent and
still,
				I noticed he shivered from the cold
night’s
chill.

				  So I took off my jacket, the one made
of
red,
			       And I covered this Soldier from his toes
to his
head.
				  And I put on his T-shirt of gray and
black,
			     With an eagle and an Army patch embroidered
on
back.

			     And although it barely fit me, I began to
swell
with pride,
			  And for a shining moment, I was United States
Army
deep inside.
				I didn’t want to leave him on that cold
dark
night,

				  This guardian of honor so willing to
fight.
		 Then the soldier rolled over, whispered with a voice so
clean
and pure,
			       "Carry on Santa, it’s Christmas Day, all
is
secure."
				     One look at my watch, and I knew he
was right,

			       Merry Christmas my friend, and to all a
good
night!

			   I wrote this poem for Christmas Eve 1993
while
assigned to US
				  Forces Korea Lt Col Bruce Lovely, USAF
				    (Printed in the Fort Leavenworth
Lamp,
1995)