’Twas a Soldier’s Christmas

’Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone,
In a one bedroom home made of plaster and stone.

I had come down the chimney with presents to give,
And to see just whom in this house did live.

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

No stocking by mantle, just boots filled with sand.
On the wall hung pictures of a far distant land.

Medals and badges, and awards of all kinds,
And a sober thought came into my mind.

For this house was different, it was dark and small.
I had found the home of a soldier, that’s all.

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 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 enjoyed freedom each month of the year,
Because of the soldiers, like the one laying here.

I couldn’t 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 is the life of 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 and continued to weep.

I kept watch for hours, so silent and still,
And we both shivered from the cold winter’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, whispered with a voice soft and pure,
“Carry on Santa, it’s Christmas Day and all is secure.”

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