Trey's Grandmother sent us a Christmas card with a wonderful poem in it. The poem reminded me just how lucky I am. Squeaker is failing majorly in the sleeping department but I have a nice warm house, and a comfortable bed/couch to sleep on.
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,
an 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 willed 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 min.
For this house was different, so dar and so dreary,
the home of a soldier, now I 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 pictures 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 lived to these soldier who were willing to fight.
Soon round the world, the children would play,'
and grownups would celebrate a bight Christmas day
They all enjoyed freedom each month of the yea,
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 hear a rough voice,
"Santa don't cry, this life is my choice;
I fight for freedom, I don't ask for more,
my life my God, my country, my corps."
The soldier 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
In our family military service is abundant.
Trey's Grandfather- Army Air Corps- Air Force
Trey's Brother Rich- Army
Trey's Brother Lee- Navy (currently stationed on a air craft carrier and will not be home for Christmas)
LR's Father- Marines
LR's Brother Alan- Navy
LR's Brother Shwaa- Army (active duty but stationed state side)
That's just in recent generations. To all the families to sacrifice their loved ones being away, an of course to our soldiers both past and present,