'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 present to give,
And just who in this home did live.
I looked all about,
A strange sight I did see,
No tinsel, no presents,
Not even a tree.
No stockings 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,
It was dark and dreary,
I found the home of a marine,
Once I could see clearly.
The marine 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 Is saw that night,
Owed their lives to these Marines,
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 Marines,
Like the one lying here.
I couldn't help wonder
How many lay alone,
On a cold Christmas Eve,
In a land far from home.
The very thought,
Brought a tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees,
And started to cry.
The Marine awakened,
And 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."
The marine 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 nights cold chill.
I didn't want to leave,
On that cold, dark night,
This guardian of honor,
So willing to fight.
The the Marine 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."
- Unknown Author
