I found this post on Urban Grounds, so thanks to Robbie, that blog's owner and writer. It was written by an American soldier, Sergeant Schmid, who was either stationed or on leave in Washington DC in 1987. I couldn't think of anything more appropriate to share on this Christmas Eve.
MERRY CHRISTMAS, MY FRIEND
‘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.
As I looked all about, a strange sight I did see,
no tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stocking by the fire, just boots filled with sand.
On the wall hung pictures of a far distant land.
With medals and badges, awards of all kind,
a sobering thought soon came to my mind.
For this house was different, unlike any I’d seen.
This was the home of a U.S. Marine.
I’d heard stories about them, I had to see more,
so I walked down the hall and pushed open the door.
And there he lay sleeping, silent, alone,
Curled up on the floor in his one-bedroom home.
He seemed so gentle, his face so serene,
Not how I pictured a U.S. Marine.
Was this the hero, of whom I’d just read?
Curled up in his poncho, a floor for his bed?
His head was clean-shaven, his weathered face tan.
I soon understood, this was more than a man.
For I realized the families that I saw that night,
owed their lives to these men, who were willing to fight.
Soon around the Nation, the children would play,
And grown-ups would celebrate on a bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom, each month and all year,
because of Marines like this one lying here.
I couldn’t help wonder how many lay alone,
on a cold Christmas Eve, in a land far from home.
Just the very thought brought a tear to my eye.
I dropped to my knees and I started to cry.
He must have awoken, for 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.”
With that he rolled over, drifted off into sleep,
I couldn’t control it, I continued to weep.
I watched him for hours, so silent and still.
I noticed he shivered from the cold night’s chill.
So I took off my jacket, the one made of red,
and covered this Marine from his toes to his head.
Then I put on his T-shirt of scarlet and gold,
with an eagle, globe and anchor emblazoned so bold.
And although it barely fit me, I began to swell with pride,
and for one shining moment, I was Marine Corps deep inside.
I didn’t want to leave him so quiet in the night,
this guardian of honor so willing to fight.
But half asleep he rolled over, and in a voice clean and pure,
said “Carry on, Santa, it’s Christmas Day, all secure.”
One look at my watch and I knew he was right,
Merry Christmas my friend, Semper Fi and goodnight.
____________
.This made me think of all the soldiers who really have sacrificed their lives, freedoms, and mental and/or physical health. That in itself doesn't make them any better than me. The fact that in a good many cases, knowing what they know now, they would yet probably do it all over again-that makes them a hell of a lot better than I have any desire to be.
See, I too love this country and what it stands for. But when I see the bullshit that it is turning into and how our rights and freedoms are being abused by people on both sides of the political aisle, people that aren't worthy of it, I realize one thing. If it came down to me to make this kind of sacrifice, I know full well who would be the main people to probably benefit from it. And I know that it is the people who I would in my heart be fighting for who would continue to be abused and manipulated by these same people.
Dying for the Constitution, and for the American people, that would be fine.
Dying for a corporation, and the people that run them-or for international "cooperation", globalization, or "free" trade, or any of the other nonsensical concepts we are being spoon fed along with the myriads of other crap we are bombarded with on a daily basis-that is all a damn hell of a different story. I don't think I could do it.
That means all of you would be fucked, if the present system depended on my saving it. I'm great for giving advice, but that is only good for so much. So if you ever see a soldier on the streets, especially one that has served in any war, I sincerely advise you to thank him from the bottom of your hearts.
Then, go out and contribute to making this country worthy of their sacrifice. The foundation for that is still there, it's in the Constitution. Let's continue transforming that dream into reality.
Chuck all the rest of the shit into the sewer that the Founding Fathers never intended for it to be dredged up from.
Because that's all that it is, really, just dressed up in prettier, modern clothes.
