Merry Christmas, My Friend.

"Merry Christmas, My Friend"
LCpl James M. Schmidt, USMC
1986

Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone
In a one bedroom house made of plaster & 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 this 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 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,
as I dropped to my knees and started to cry.

He must have awoken, for I then heard a 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,
but I couldn't control it and 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.

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 and all is secure."

One look at my watch and I knew he was right,
Merry Christmas my friend, Semper Fi, and goodnight.