[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)