Shared by Susan Gordon, Region 8 Coordinator and Sharon Ledbetter, Idaho Coordinator.
I received a Christmas card
yesterday with WWII soldiers decorating a tree in the forest. This
was the poem that accompanied the card:
T’was the might 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,
and on the wall 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 soldier, now 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 such
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 realized the families that I saw this night,
owed their lives to these soldiers 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 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 solder 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 solder rolled over and soon 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 evening’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, with a voice 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.”
by Lance Corporal James M. Schmidt
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