The night before Christmas - a soldier story

Have to pass this Christmas story on. . .


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 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 
  On the wall hung pictures of far distant lands 
  
  With medals and badges, awards of all kinds 
  A sober thought did come through my mind 
  For this house was different, it was dark and dreary 
  I found the home of a soldier, once I could see clearly 
  
  The soldier lay sleeping, silent and 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 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 nights 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, 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:  Major Bruce Lovely, adopted from a similar poem 
  by Anonymous.