A Soldiers Night Before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all a lone,

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 the home did live.

I looked all about - a strange sight did I 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 kinds,

A sobering thought came to my mind.

For this house was different - so dark and so dreary.

The home of a solider I'd found....once I could see clearly.

I'd 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 was so gentle.  His room in disorder.

Not how I pictured a United States soldier.

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

Curled up in his poncho - the floor for a 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 a bright Christmas day.

They all enjoyed freedom each month of the year,

Because of soldiers like this one, laying right here.

I couldn't help wonder how many lay alone,

On a cold Christmas Eve so far from home.

Just the very thought brought a tear to my eye.

I dropped to my knees and I 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, country, family and Corps."

With that he rolled over and drifted back into sleep.

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

I watched him for hours - so silent, so 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 toe to his head.

And I put on his t-shirt of gray and of black,

With and eagle and Army patch embroidered on back.

And although it'd not fit, my heart swelled with pride.

For one shining moment I was US Army 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 and whispered with a voice 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.

~Lt. Col. Bruce Lovely, USAF