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 might in this home live.

I looked all about, such a strange sight did I see, no tinsel, no presents not even a tree.

No stocking by the 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 flew through my mind.

For this house was different, and so dark and dreary, I'd found the home of a soldier, that I could see clearly.

The soldier lay sleeping, all silent, alone, curled up on the floor of 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 whom I'd just read? Curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed?

I realised the families that I saw this night, owed their lives to these soldiers who were willing to fight.

Soon around the world, the children would play, and grown-ups would celebrate a bright Christmas Day.

They all enjoyed 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 away 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 honour so willing to fight.

Then the soldier rolled over, with a voice so soft and pure, whispered, "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."

- This poem was written by a Marine stationed in Okinawa Japan - Origination Unknown -

I know the world didn't look upon kindly on the US soldiers ever since Bush decided to attack the Middle East. But just stop for a moment, and think of all the men and women who died out there for their country. Not only in this recent war. WWI, WWII, the Vietnam war, the Gulf war. Sometimes we only think about what we can see, and not what is happenning behind the scenes, where all the ugly things happen.