A Soldiers Christmas

T’was 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 site did I see,
No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree,
No stockings by the mantle, Just boots filled with sand,
On the wall hung pictures of far distance lands.

With Medals and badges, Awards of all kinds,
A sober thought came through my mind.
For this house was different, it was dark and dreary,
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.

The solider lay sleeping, silent, alone,
Curled up in this, His one bedroom home.
The face was so gentle,, the room in such disorder
Not how I pictured a United States Solider.

Was this the War Hero of whom I’d just read?
Curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed?
His head was clean shaven, his weathered face tan,
I soon understood this was more than a man.
I realized the families that I saw this night
Owed they’re lives to these soldiers who were willing to fight.

Soon round the world the children would play
And grownups celebrate a bright Christmas day.
They enjoyed freedom each month of the year,
Because of these 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
Dropped to my knees and started to cry.

The Soldier awakened and I hear a rough voice,
“Santa don’t cry, this is my life my choice:
I fight for freedom, I don’t ask for more
My life is my god, my country my Corps.”

The Solider rolled over and soon drifted to sleep
I couldn’t control it I started to weep.
I kept watch for hours. So silent and still
And we both shivered from the cold nights chill.

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 on that cold dark night,
This guardian of honor, so willing to fight.
Then the Solider rolled over with a voice soft and pure,
Whispered, "Carry on Santa, Christmas Day is Secure"

One look at my watch and I knew he was right
Merry Christmas my friend and to all a good night.

The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,
I gazed 'round the room and I cherished the sight;
My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,
My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.
Outside the snow fell.... a blanket of white,
Transforming the yard to a winter delight;
The sparkling lights on the tree, I believe,
Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.
My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,
Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep;
In perfect contentment, or so it would seem.
So I slumbered in peace, then I started to dream.
The sound wasn't loud, and it wasn't too near,
But I opened my eyes when it came to my ear;
Perhaps just a cough, I didn't quite know,
Then the sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.
My soul gave a tremble. I struggled to hear,
And I crept to the door just to see who was near;
Standing out there alone in the cold of the night,
A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.
A soldier, I reckoned, some eighteen years old,
Perhaps a Marine huddled there in the cold;
Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,
Standing watch over me, my wife, and my child.
"What are you doing?" I asked without fear,
"Come in this moment! It's freezing out here;
Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve,
You should be at home on this cold Christmas Eve!"
For barely a moment, I saw his eyes shift,
Away from the cold, and the snow in a drift;
To the windows that danced with a warm fire's light,
Then he sighed, and he said, "It's really all right."
"I'm out here by choice. I'm here all the time,
It's my duty to stand at the front of the line;
No one has to ask me, or beg, or implore,
I'm proud to stand here like my father before."
"My grandpa at Pearl, on a day in December,
Is a memory my grandma will always remember;
My dad stood his watch in the jungles of 'Nam,
And now it's my turn, and so, here I am.
I've not seen my family in more than a while,
But my parents send pictures. They're great for a smile."
Then he bent down and carefully pulled from his bag,
The Red, White, and Blue. An American flag.
"I can live through the cold, and this being alone,
Away from my family, my house, and my home;
I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,
I can sleep in a foxhole, with little to eat.
I can carry the weight of killing another,
Or lay down my life for my buddy.....my brother;
Who stand here with me against any and all,
To insure for all time that this flag does not fall.
So go back inside," he said, "harbor no fright,
Your family is waiting and I'll be all right."
"But isn't there something I can do, at the least,
Give you some money? Prepare you a feast?
It seems all too little for all that you do,
Being away from your home and your family too."
Then his eyes welled a tear that held no regret,
"Just tell us you love us, and never forget;
To fight for our rights back at home while we're gone;
To stand your own watch, no matter how long.
For when we come home, wither standing or dead,
To know you remember we fought and we bled,
Is payment enough, and with that we will trust,
That we mattered to you, as you mattered to us."

Some 36 years since I was a soldier, I remember my
Christmas prayer on Firebase West in the Cental Highlands 12/25/70.
It was a plea from fear...fear for my soul...fear of
killing a woman, child, old person who were non-combatants.

Oh I was afraid of dyin', but more afraid of dyin' wrong.
So, I need to say...thank you Lord Jesus...for hearing my prayer.
For saving me from mistakenly killin' those who didn't chose to fight.

I didn't (don't) have the guts to stand as You did...without fightin' back,
lovin' your enemies...to the sacrifice of Your own life. But, I do have
the experience to worship Your courage...and pray for guideance.