A Military Twas the Night before Christmas

‘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 dwelling did live.
As I looked all around, a strange sight to see,
no tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.

No stocking on the mantle, just boots filled with sand.
On the wall hung pictures of far distant lands.
Medals and badges, awards of every kind,
a sobering thought came alive in my mind.
This house was different, it was dark, it was dreary.
I had found the home of a soldier, I could see that most clearly.
The soldier lay sleeping silent, alone.Curled up on the floor in his one-bedroom home.

His face was so gentle, room in such disorder,
Not at all how I pictured a U.S. soldier.
Was this the hero, of whom I’d just read?
Curled up on a poncho, a floor for a bed?
Then I realized the other families that I saw this night
Out there lies the soldiers who are willing to fight.
In the morning around the world, children would play
Grown-ups would celebrate a bright Christmas day
But they all enjoyed freedom, each month through the year,
because of soldiers like the one lying here.

I couldn’t help but wonder how many lay alone,
on a cold Christmas Eve, in lands far from home.
The very thought brought a tear to my eye.
and I dropped to my knees and I started to cry.
The soldier awakened, I heard his 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 family.”
The soldier rolled over, and drifted to sleep.

I couldn’t control it, and I continued to weep.
I kept watch for hours, so silent and still.
as both of us shivered from the cold night’s chill.
I didn’t want to leave him on that cold, dark night.
This guardian of honor, so willing to fight.

Then the soldier rolled over with a voice soft and pure.
He whispered, “Carry on Santa, it’s Christmas Day, all secure.”
One look at my watch and I knew he was right,
Merry Christmas my friend,
May God bless you this night.

Without A Witness They are Forgotten

The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,
I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.
My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,
My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.
Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,
Transforming the yard to a winter delight.

The sparkling lights in the tree I believe,
Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.
My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,
Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep.
In perfect contentment, or so it would seem,
So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.

The sound wasn't loud, and it wasn't too near,
But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear.
Perhaps just a cough, I didn't quite know,

Then the sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.
My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear,
And I crept to the door just to see who was near.

Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night,
A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.
A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old,
Perhaps a Marine, huddled here in the cold.
Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,
Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.

"What are you doing?" I asked without fear,
"Come in this moment, it's freezing out here!
Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve,
You should be at home on a cold Chris tmas Eve!"
For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,
Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts..

To the window that danced with a warm fire's light
Then he sighed and he said "Its really all right,
I'm out here by choice. I'm here every night."
"It's my duty to stand at the front of the line,
That separates you from the darkest of times.

No one had to ask or beg or implore me,
I'm proud to stand here like my fathers before me.
My Gramps died at ' Pearl on a day in December,"
Then he sighed, "That's a Christmas 'Gram always remembers."
My dad stood his watch in the jungles of ' Nam ',
And now it is my turn and so, here I am..

I've not seen my own son in more than a while,
But my wife sends me pictures, he's sure got her smile.
Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,
The red, white, and blue... an American flag.
I can live through the cold and the being alone,
Away from my family, my house and my home.

I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,
I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat.
I can carry the weight of killing another,
Or lay down my life with my sister and brother..
Who stand at the front against any and all,
To ensure for all time that this flag will not fall."

" So go back inside," he said, "harbor no fright,
Your family is waiting and I'll be all right."
"But isn't there something I can do, at the least,
"Give you money," I asked, "or prepare you a feast?
It seems all too little for all that you've done,
For being away from your wife and your son."

Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret,
"Just tell us you love us, and never forget.
To fight for our rights back at home while we're gone,
To stand your own watch, no matter how long.
For when we come home, either standing or dead,
To know you remember we fought and we bled.
Is payment enough, and with that we will trust,
That we mattered to you as you mattered to us."

God is Busy

If you don't know GOD, don't make stupid
remarks!!!!!!

A United States Marine was attending some
college
courses between assignments. He had completed
missions
in Iraq and Afghanistan ... One of the courses
had a professor
who was an avowed atheist, and a member of the
ACLU.

One day the professor shocked the class when
he came in.
He looked to the ceiling and flatly stated,
GOD if you are real
then I want you to knock me off this platform.
I'll give you exactly
15 min.' The lecture room fell silent. You
could hear a pin drop.
Ten minutes went by and the professor
proclaimed, 'Here I am
GOD, I'm still waiting.'

It got down to the last couple of minutes when
the Marine got
out of his chair, went up to the professor,
and cold-cocked him;
knocking him off the platform. The professor
was out cold.
The Marine went back to his seat and sat
there, silently.

The other students were shocked and stunned,
and sat there
looking on in silence. The professor
eventually came to,
noticeably shaken, looked at the Marine and
asked, 'What
in the world is the matter with you? 'Why did
you do that?'

The Marine calmly replied, 'GOD was too busy
today protecting
America 's soldiers who are protecting your
right to say stupid
stuff and act like an idiot. So He sent me.'

The classroom erupted in cheers!

That Girl (I borrowed this because I couldn't have said it better myself)

I am that girl.

I'm the girl standing behind you in line at the grocery store, eyeing the newest Support Our Troops magnet. The look on my face is complacent and my thoughts are miles away on some military base I've only been verbally described over the phone.

I'm the young woman in the next car with the windows rolled up and the glassy visage only on the road ahead. The radio is set to one of the local country stations which is currently playing "Letters From Home". But you can't hear it because you're talking to a family member or friend on your cell phone.

You catch a glance at the US ARMY sticker on the bumper of my car but you don't know when the song reaches "my dearest love it's almost dawn, I've been laying here all night long, wondering where you might be", my heart breaks a thousand times.

I'm the girl who visits the military wives web site at odd hours of the night to find some kind of comfort for that lonesome feeling that has settled in the pit of my stomach.

I'm the woman who has fought an inner battle, trying to accept the path the man I love has chosen. I'm the woman who will willingly sacrifice my family, my home to follow a man clear across the country. I'm the woman who never asked for this but deals with it without complaint.

I'm the young woman who swells with pride everytime I see my soldier standing tall in his uniform. I'm the one who spots a US Military sticker, license plate, or flag and feels a connection with its owner, hoping that maybe I'm not alone in this melancholy, sacrificial situation.

I am the young woman who tries to hide her tears whenever she recieves a call from her soldier. Knowing that no matter what the problem is that he still loves her. Whether or not shes red & blotchy. I am the young woman who holds her breath everytime she recieves an unknown call. Worried that somewhere her heart may be breaking.

I am the young woman who tries her hardest to go about my everyday life.
I am the young woman who tries to concentrate during my classes and do the job I get paid to do.
I am the young woman who hates sleeping alone.
I am the young woman who closes my eyes and pretends that the man I love is laying there next to me, his arms wrapped around me.
I am the young woman who tries not to miss him, who tries not to cry whenever I hear his name or even the mention of a soldier
I am the woman who is terrified that the love of my life will be sent off to war.

I am many things.

A mother

A daughter

A sister

A cousin

A niece

A co-worker

A friend

But most importantly, I am the wife of a United States Servicemember and wouldn't trade that girl's life for anything in the world.

Paying Respect

A battlefield cross, or fallen soldier battle cross, is a memorial to a fallen or missing soldier, consisting of the soldier's boots, bayonet, helmet, rifle, and sometimes dog tags. As the name implies, a battlefield cross is generally erected at or near the field of battle, allowing the soldier's comrades to pay their respects and to begin to process the loss. Among the military, the image of the battlefield cross has become quite iconic, and it appears in military tattoos and sculptures as a motif which is meant to symbolize loss and mourning for fallen comrades.

The battlefield cross is made by standing the soldier's boots upright, perching the rifle upright in the boots, and hanging the helmet from the rifle's upright stock. If dog tags are included, they are typically draped from the rifle. Other tokens and mementos may be added to the battlefield cross by comrades, symbolizing inside jokes and other moments of friendship with the deceased.

The origins of the battlefield cross appear to lie in the American Civil War, and they are a bit grizzly. Until this period, fallen soldiers were buried where they were, sometimes by opposing forces, with crude markers being erected and sometimes later replaced. In the Civil War, however, soldiers began to be sent home for burial, so after a battle was over, people would move through the battlefield to mark the bodies which needed to be removed; the most convenient marker would have been the soldier's rifle with his helmet balanced on top, and over time, this image came to be associated with military loss.

During the second Gulf War, the battlefield cross began to attract popular attention, with numerous units erecting battlefield crosses to commemorate their comrades. Since they could not attend the funerals of their fellows, some units made a habit of paying their respects at the battlefield cross, and photographers following the war captured iconic images which were widely reprinted in the United States. Since the Pentagon does not permit the publication of images of flag-draped coffins without a fight, the battlefield cross has come to be used as a poignant reminder of the cost of war.

Although the battlefield cross is not an official military honor, many higher-ranking members of the military have recognized the value of the battlefield cross, encouraging member of their units to memorialize fallen comrades and sometimes holding ceremonies at the site of a battlefield cross. After a set period of time, the memorial may be respectfully dismantled, with the components being returned to the government for appropriate disposition.

Lest We Forget

I wanted to share this because no matter how many times I see this ceremony performed; it is always very moving. This remembrance makes patriotic holidays even more meaningful. I pray that as we all celebrate at holiday events we never forget those who have sacrificed so much and their families that wait for their return.

Below is the script that is read for the ceremony. I what I have printed is the way I've heard it presented most often. There can be modifications and more formal presentations.

As you entered the room, you may have noticed a table at the front, raised to call your attention to its purpose. Those who have served and those currently serving the uniformed services of the United States are ever mindful that the sweetness of enduring peace has always been tainted by the bitterness of personal sacrifice. We are compelled to never forget that while we enjoy our daily pleasures, there are others who have endured and may still be enduring the agonies of pain, deprivation and internment.

We call your attention to this small table, which occupies a place of dignity and honor near the center of activity and to remind all Americans to never forget Servicemembers and civilians who have answered our nation’s call and served the cause of freedom in a special way. At this time, I would like to explain the meaning of the items on this special table.

The table is reserved to honor those missing from this event. It is round to show our everlasting concern for our men and women who remain missing. The table is set for one, symbolizing the frailty of one captive alone against his or her suppressors. The chair is empty to remind us of their physical absence.

The tablecloth is white, symbolic of the purity of their motives when responding to the country’s call to duty.

The single red rose in the vase, signifies the blood they may have shed in sacrifice to ensure the freedom of our beloved United States of America. This rose also reminds us of the family and friends of our missing who keep the faith, while awaiting their return.

The yellow ribbon on the vase represents the yellow ribbons worn on the lapels of the thousands who demand with unyielding determination a proper accounting of our loved ones who are not among us at this time.

The Bible represents the strength gained through faith to sustain those missing and their families who seek answers from our country, founded as one nation under God.

The candle is reminiscent of the light of hope which lives in our hearts to illuminate their way home, away from their oppressors, to the open arms of family and a grateful nation.

A slice of lemon on the plate is to remind us of the bitter fate of those who are missing.

The pinch of salt sprinkled on the plate reminds us of the countless tears shed by families as they wait.

The glass is inverted for they cannot toast with us at this event.

Let us pray to God that all of our loved ones will soon be back with us. Let us remember and never forget their sacrifices.

May God forever watch over them and protect them and their families.

If a picture is worth 1,000 words. . . . . . . .