'Twas the Night before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas, He lived all alone,

In a one bedroom house made of plaster and 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 mantle, just boots filled with sand,

On the wall hung pictures of far distant lands.

 

With medals and badges, awards of all kinds,

A sober thought came through my mind.

 

For this house is different, it was dark and dreary,

I found the home of a soldier, once I could see clearly.

 

The soldier lay sleeping--silent, alone--

Curled up on the floor in this one bedroom home.

 

The face was so gentle, the room in disorder;

Not how I pictured a United States soldier.

 

Was this the hero of who I'd just read?

Curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed?

 

I realized the families that I saw this night,

Owed their lives to this soldier who was willing to fight.

 

Soon 'round the world, the children would play,

And grownups would celebrate a bright Christmas Day.

 

They all enjoy freedom each month of the year,

Because of the soldiers, like the one lying here.

 

I couldn't help wonder how many lay alone,

On a cold Christmas Eve in a land far from home.

 

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."

 

The soldier rolled over and drifted to sleep,

I couldn't control it, I continued to weep.

 

I kept watch for hours, so silent and still;

And we both shivered from the cold night's chill.

 

I didn't want to leave on that cold, dark night,

This guardian of honor, so willing to fight.

 

Then the soldier rolled over and with a voice soft and pure,

Whispered, "Carry on, Santa. It's Christmas Day, all's secure."

 

One look at my watch, and I knew he was right,

"Merry Christmas, my friend, and to all a good night."

This poem was written by a Marine stationed in Okinawa, Japan. He makes the following request:

"Would you send this to as many people as you can? Christmas is coming soon and some credit is due to our U.S. service men and women for our being able to celebrate this and other holidays. Let's stop and think of our true heroes who have sacrificed their lives or parts of their lives so that we may enjoy our many freedoms."

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