Page 28 - 200712 - The 'X' Chronicles Newspaper - December 2007

Soldiers Christmas 28 A A Soldiers Christmas 28 The Night Before Christmas The following poem was written by a Canadian soldier on peacekeeping duty in Bosnia. The following is his request. "PLEASE. Would you do me the kind favour of sending this to as many people as you can? Christmas will be coming soon and some credit is due to our service men and women for our being able to celebrate these festivities. Let's try in this small way to pay a tiny bit of what we owe. Make people stop and think of our heroes, living and dead, who sacrificed themselves for us. Please, do your small part to plant this small seed." We feel privileged to oblige. Brian Westbrook, Major (Ret'd) Former Web- I realized the families, Then the soldier rolled over, master That I saw this night, With a voice, soft and pure, Owed their lives to these soldiers, Whispered, 'Carry on Santa, The Night Before Who were willing to fight. It's Christmas Day, all is secure.' Christmas Soon round the world, One look at my watch, The children would play, And I knew he was right, And grownups would celebrate, 'Merry Christmas my friend, T'was the night before Christmas, A bright Christmas Day. And to all a good night.' He lived all alone, In a one bedroom house, They all enjoyed freedom, This poem was written by a peace keeping Made of plaster and stone. Each month of the year, soldier stationed overseas. [] Because of the soldiers, I had come down the chimney, Like the one lying here. With presents to give, And to see just who, I couldn't help wonder, In this home did live. How many lay alone, On a cold Christmas Eve, I looked all about, In a land far from home. A strange sight I did see, No tinsel, no presents, The very thought brought Not even a tree. A tear to my eye, I dropped to my knees, No stocking by the mantle, And started to cry. Just boots filled with sand, On the wall hung pictures, The soldier awakened, Of far distant lands. And I heard a rough voice, 'Santa, don't cry. With medals and badges, This life is my choice. Awards of all kinds, A sober thought, I fight for freedom, Came through my mind. I don't ask for more, My life is my God, For this house was different, My country, my corps.' It was dark and dreary, I found the home of a soldier, The soldier rolled over, Once I could see clearly. And drifted to sleep, I couldn't control it, The soldier lay sleeping, I continued to weep. Silent, alone, Curled up on the floor, I kept watch for hours, In this one bedroom home. So silent and still, And we both shivered, The face was so gentle, From the cold night's chill. The room in such disorder, Not how I pictured, I didn't want to leave, A Canadian soldier. On that cold, dark night, This guardian of honor, Was this the hero, So willing to fight. Of whom I'd just read?, Curled up on a poncho, The floor for a bed?