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" The Night Before Xmas "

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,
AND TO SEE JUST WHO IN THIS HOME DID LIVE.

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 CAME 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, 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 NIGHT'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.

 
Author Cmdr.Donald M DeWITT, USN Retired

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God Bless the USA
and the Men and Women
who guard and defend her!!

" The Night Before Xmas in Saudi "

'TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS WHEN ALL OVER SAUDI
THE CREATURES WERE STIRRING ALL OVER OUR BODIES.
OUR STOCKINGS WERE HUNG ON OUR TENTS WITH MUCH CARE
IN HOPES THAT SAINT NICHOLAS SOON WOULD BE THERE.

WE SOLDIERS WERE NESTLED IN BAGS, NOT BEDS;
NO VISIONS OF SUGAR PLUMS DANCED IN OUR HEADS.
INSTEAD, WE WERE DREAMING OF BEING BACK HOME
WITH FAMILY AND FRIEND, AND NOT HERE ALONE.

WHEN OUT IN THE DESERT AROSE SUCH A CLATTER,
WE SPRANG FROM OUR BAGS TO SEE WHAT WAS THE MATTER.
WE ALL GRABBED OUR RIFLES AND RAN FROM OUR TENT
TO HANDLE THE MISSION FOR WHICH WE'D BEEN SENT.

WITH NIGHT GOGGLES ON AND THE MOON SHINING BRIGHT,
WE SPOTTED OUR SUBJECT; WE WERE READY TO FIGHT!
WHEN WHAT TO OUR TERRIFIED EYES SHOULD APPEAR,

BUT A HERD OF EIGHT CAMELS, INSTEAD OF REINDEER.
WAS THIS A MIRAGE? WERE OUR EYES PLAYING TRICKS?
NO, THAT MAN ON THE 'HUMP' WAS REALLY SAINT NICK!

WE TOOK OFF OUR GOGGLES AND LAID DOWN OUR RIFLES
AND WAITED SO PATIENTLY FOR THEIR ARRIVAL.
SO SLOWLY ACROSS THE DRY DESERT THEY CAME,
AND HE WHISTLED AND SHOUTED AND CALLED THEM BY NAME;

NOW ARAFAT, HUSSEIN, KAREEN AND KHADAFI,
ALADDIN, ALI-BABBA, JABAR AND RUDOLPHI!

HE WAS TRYING SO HARD TO QUICKEN THEIR PACE,
BUT THOSE EIGHT STINKY CAMELS WEREN'T UP FOR A RACE.
WE RAN BACK INSIDE SO WE COULDN'T BE SEEN
AND SHOOK OUR TIRED HEADS -- WAS IT ONLY A DREAM?

AND THEN IN A TWINKLE WE HEARD ON THE SAND,
THE STOMPING AND PAWING OF A CAMEL-HOOF BAND.
AS WE PEEKED OUT THE TENT, WE KNEW WE WEREN'T DREAMING,
FOR STANDING OUTSIDE WAS SAINT NICK JUST A-BEAMING.

HE WAS DRESSED ALL IN CAMOUFLAGE, HEAD DOWN TO FOOT,
WITH FLEA COLLARS STRAPPED AROUND EACH SHINY BOOT.
WITH BOXES GALORE TIED ON EACH CAMEL'S BACK,
HE WENT TO WORK QUICKLY TO GET THEM UNPACKED.

HIS EYES HOW THEY BULGED FROM HIS COUGHING AND GAGGING.
THE SAND STORMS THAT NIGHT REALLY HAD OLD NICK DRAGGING.
HE PUT DOWN HIS PIPE THAT HE HELD IN HIS TEETH,
AND THE SAND IT ENCIRCLED HIS HEAD LIKE A WREATH.

HE PUT HIS FACE MASK ON, AND ALL YOU COULD SEE
WAS HIS SANDY OLD BEARD, JUST AS BLACK AS COULD BE.

WE NOTICED A DIFFERENCE IN HIS LITTLE ROUND BELLY.
IT NO LONGER SHOOK LIKE A BOWL FULL OF JELLY.
HE WAS SKINNY AND SCRAWNY -- LIKE THE WIMPY LITTLE ELVES.
"HE'S BEEN ON FIELD RATIONS", WE LAUGHED TO OURSELVES.

HE SPOKE NOT A WORD, BUT WENT STRAIGHT TO HIS WORK
AND FILLED ALL OUR STOCKINGS, THEN TURNED WITH A JERK.
AND TO OUR AMAZEMENT AND UTTER SURPRIZE,
WHAT HE WAS UNLOADING WAS A SHOCK TO OUR EYES.

IT WAS TOOTHPASTE, DEODORANT, GUM AND BEEF JERKY,
PICANTE AND CORN CHIPS TO KEEP US ALL PERKY,
'SHOWER TO SHOWER' AND LOTS OF LIP BALM,
AND G-RATED READING TO KEEP US ALL CALM.

WE WATCHED AS HE FILLED EVERY ONE OF OUR SOCKS
AND WONDERED IF HE KNEW OF OUR JOY WITH EACH BOX.
IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE, HE HAD FINISHED HIS WORK;
SO HE GATHERED HIS CAMELS, AND THEY ALL HIT THE DIRT.

AS HE RODE OUT OF SIGHT, WE ALL WALKED FROM OUR TENT
TO LOOK THROUGH OUR STOCKINGS AT GIFTS WE'D BEEN SENT.
WE STOOD IN THE DESERT BENEATH THE BRIGHT MOON,
AND PRAYED FOR PEACE SO WE'D BE HOME REAL SOON.

Reprinted with permission of Donna Nangauta,
wife of SFC Joseph Nangauta, who is
participating in Operation Desert Shield.

GI Humor from the soldiers of Headquarters, VII Corps

All Rights reserved.

"Navy Corpsman's ~ Night before Christmas"

Twas the night before Christmas as I flew o'er the Marine Base,
when I spied a young man who seemed out of place.
His eyes showed compassion, his hair a bit long,
but his head was held high and his body was strong.

His air was confident, his uniform smart,
but what impressed me most was the size of his heart.
For he embodied honor, one of this country's best,
and the words U.S. NAVY showed large on his chest.

As I stood there in wonder and gazed into his eyes,
the words that he spoke took me quite by surprise.
"What's wrong Santa, haven't you ever seen a sailor before?"

I sensed something special and longed to know more.
"To be honest, this field thing wasn't part of my plan,
but God didn't give me a boat or tin can."

The words he spoke next surprised me all the more,
"But I'm as proud of my Navy as I am of the Corps!"
"Don't worry Santa, that I'm a sailor you see,
for when a Marine goes down they will still call on me.

They'll forget I'm a sailor, they'll call in my stock.
At the top of their lungs they'll yell ,"Get me the doc!"
"And I'll answer that call, anytime, anywhere.

Though I know I'm a target I really don't care.
I'll face incoming fire as I race cross the land,
and use my very own body to shield a downed man."

"Working long hours and into the night,
my unit's battle is over, but I'm just starting to fight.
For the life of every Marine is sacred to me.

I refuse to surrender them to death, and in that I'll find victory."
"And yet I'll take the time to comfort a dying man,
to sit down by his side, to reach out and hold his hand.
For it takes as much courage to care as to fight.
For just as the poem says, many don't "go gently into that night."

"Santa, it's not any one uniform that makes you a man,
but rather it's those ideals for which you choose to stand.
I draw my line here, it's long and it's plain.
For pain, hurt and suffering are the things I disdain."

I know very well that I may lose my life,
so that a Marine may see an unmet child and young wife.
So Santa, it really doesn't matter if they don't like my hair.
I'm a Navy Corpsman, their Doc, and I'll always be there."

"I follow the brave docs who have come long before,
from Belleau Wood, Iwo, and Lebanon's shore.
As history proudly shows, they all gave their best,
and for those who have died, surely they're blessed."

"At Inchon, the Gulf and times during Tet,
our brothers have fallen, but we carry on yet.
For we carry their honor and legacy still."

As I held back my tears it took all of my will.
I had to leave him there for I had other plans,
but I knew in my heart that the Corps is in good hands.

As I flew away I heard his laughter, it rang so loud and clear.
"Hey Santa, how 'bout a nice pair of boots for the 26 miler next year?

Author unknown

Christmas in the Trenches

Sung by: John Mc Dermott

Oh, my name is Frances Tolliver, I come from Liverpool.
Two years ago the war was waitin' For me after school.

From Belgium and to Flanders, Germany to here.
I fought for King and country I love dear.

Twas Christmas in the trenches, And the frost so bitter hung.
The frozen fields of France were still, No songs of peace were sung.

Our families back in England, Were toasting us that day.
Their brave and glorious lads, So far away.

I was lyin' with me mess mates, On the cold and rocky ground.
When across the lines of battle came, A most peculiar sound.

Says I, "Now listen up me boys," Each soldier strained to hear.
As one young German voice, Sang out so clear.

"He's singin' bloody well ya know," My partner says to me.
Soon one by one each German voice, Joined in, in harmony.

The cannons rested silent, And the gas cloud rolled no more.
As Christmas... brought us respite, From the war.

As soon as they were finished, And a reverent pause was spent.
"God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen," Struck up some lads from Kent.

Oh, the next they sang was "Steller Nacht," To "Silent Night" says I.
And in two tongues one song, Filled up that sky.

"There's someone comin' towards us now," The frontline sentry cried.
All sights were fixed on one lone figure, Trudging from their side.

His truce flag like a Christmas star, Shone on the plains so bright.
As he bravely, trudged unarmed Into the night.

Then one by one on either side, Walked into no-man's land.
Neither gun or bayonet, We met there hand to hand.

We shared some secret brandy, And we wished each other well.
And in a flare-lit football game We gave them hell.

We traded chocolates and cigarettes, And photographs from home.
These sons and fathers, far away, From families of their own.

Tom Sanders played his squeeze box, And they had a violin.
This curious, and unlikely Band of men.

Soon daylight stole upon us, And France was France once more.
We said fairwell as we each began To settle back to war.

But the question haunted every heart, That lived that wonderous night.
"Whose family, have I fixed, Within my sights?"

Twas Christmas in the trenches, And the frost so bitter hung.
The frozen fields of France were born, As songs of peace were sung.

For the walls they'd kept between us, To exact the work of war.
Had been crumbled, and were gone Forever more.

Oh, my name is Frances Tolliver, In Liverpool I dwell.
Each Christmas comes, since World War I,
I've learned its lessons well.

For the ones who called the shots won't be, Among the dead and lame.
And on each end of the rifle,

We're the same.

http://www.johnmcdermott.com

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