It is my understanding that the poem contained in this story was written by a serviceman stationed overseas who wishes to remain anonymous. His request was to pass it along to as many people as possible, and I thought putting it in a little E! story was as good a way as any to do that. He asks that at this time of year we stop and think of our heroes, living and dead, who sacrificed themselves for us, and to remember those who will be spending this holiday far from their homes and loved ones in service to us and our country. If my information is inaccurate about the source, I apologize… but it does not diminish the message it contains.
"'TWAS THE NIGHT THAT SANTA CRIED"
Dinnertime and Johnny was starved. One run had followed another all day, and they had missed lunch. Even Chet's cooking smelled good to him tonight.
He picked up a fallen ornament and put it back on the small Christmas tree, then stood back and smiled. It reminded him a little of a Charlie Brown tree. Johnny couldn't believe that tomorrow was Christmas Day already. Time was going by so quickly.
Going in search of Roy to let him know dinner was ready, he found him sitting on his bunk, reading a letter. Taking note of Roy's quiet demeanor, Johnny sat down on his bunk across from him.
"Not bad news is it?" he asked curiously.
"No," Roy replied, "it's from a guy I knew when I was in the Army. He's on his second tour of duty. Says he's supposed to be coming home soon. I'd sure like to see him again. It's been a long time."
Roy held the letter up and re-read the end of it, then looked at Johnny.
"I guess... I guess some of the guys over there are feeling pretty lonely and a little forgotten by the folks at home. It's pretty rough on them to be so far away... especially at this time of year." Roy sighed softly and put the letter back in the envelope.
"It's kinda hard, you know Roy," Johnny began, "even though we see it on the news every night, it seems so far away. I mean... I know it is far away.... It just... sometimes it doesn't seem like it has anything to do with us. If we didn't turn on the TV or pick up the newspaper, we might not even know there's a war going on. I don't think people mean to forget. They just get caught up in their everyday lives and don't think about it."
"Yeah, I know." Roy answered quietly, "But try to explain that to those guys over there. They're a long way from home -- and they don't know if they'll even be coming home again. Seems like we owe it to them to think about what they're doing and why."
Roy pulled another piece of paper out of the envelope and handed it to Johnny.
"He said one of the guys in his platoon wrote this. He thought maybe I could share it with some others.... He thought maybe it might help people remember and think twice about what being a solider is all about."
It was a poem, written in long-hand on a faded piece of yellow writing paper. Johnny glanced at Roy, then began to read.
'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.
I looked all about,
A strange sight I did see.
No tinsel, no presents,
Not even a tree.
No stocking 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 sobering thought
Came to my mind.
For this house was different,
It was dark and dreary.
I found the home of a soldier
Once I could see clearly.
The soldier 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 I saw this night,
Owed their lives to these soldiers
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 soldiers,
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 soldier 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 solider 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 winter night's chill.
I didn't want to leave
On that cold, dark night
This guardian of honor,
So willing to fight.
Then the solider rolled over,
With a voice soft and pure,
Whispered "Carry on Santa,
It's Christmas Day, and all is secure."
One look at my watch
And I knew he was right.
"Merry Christmas my friend,
And to all a good night."
Without a word, Johnny stood up and handed the poem back to Roy. Lost in thought for a minute, a smile suddenly appeared -- the kind that always did when he was struck by a great idea.
"Roy, what are you doin' tomorrow after dinner?" he asked excitedly.
Roy stood up too, and rolled his eyes a little. He knew that look and that tone of voice only too well.
"I suppose you're gonna tell me, aren't you?" The familiar smile returned to his eyes -- the one that was always there when he knew Johnny was going to talk him into doing something.
"Roy, let's go eat first.... I'm starved.... You know Chet's cookin' tonight, right? It doesn't smell half bad.... But don't tell him I said that or I'll never hear the end of it. You know, Roy, there's a VA hospital right next to Rampart.... What if we get some guys together and go over there tomorrow and... you know, just spend some time with them... I bet they get pretty lonesome and we could take some stuff. I don't know, maybe something to eat and other things. I wonder if they have a Christmas tree.... Maybe we could sing some songs or play some games or just sit around and talk... um... What? Why are you smiling at me like that Roy?"
"I guess you liked the poem, huh?"
"Yeah... somehow the picture of Santa crying isn't one I wanna remember. I just thought... maybe if I did something... I don't know... I thought maybe I could do something to make him smile again."
"I think you just did, Johnny. I think you just did. Let's go eat."
