Sincerely, Scotty by Walter Scott 12-25

Marine’s Poem

Christmas, a time when we think of those dear to us; of gifts and families gathered together in celebration of the birth of the Christ child.  Unfortunately, we are caught up in the excitement of watching our children and grandchildren open gifts as we sit comfortably around the Christmas tree and rarely think about those who are making the sacrifice so we may enjoy the season.

A marine stationed in Okinawa, Japan, made a request some years ago that we distribute this poem he wrote and give some credit to our U.S. service men and women for our being able to celebrate these festivities.  I don’t know how I got this poem, but let me try in this small way to repay a tiny bit of what we owe.  Perhaps it will make you, my readers, to stop and think of our heroes, living and dead, who sacrificed themselves for us.  I think it is a reasonable request.

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 house 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 came through my mind.

For this house was different, so 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 away 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 my life of 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 the 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.”

Please stop for a moment and pray for our troops and peace for the world.  Pray for a time when all races and religions can accept each other, so that we can someday say, “this world under God.”

Merry Christmas, Scotty