Merry Christmas My Friend

 

Merry Christmas, My Friend

 

By James M. Schmidt, a Marine Lance Corporal

 

stationed in Washington, D.C., in 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 his 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 on 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.

 

I dropped to my knees and I started to cry.

 

 

 

He must have awoken, for 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.”

 

 

 

With that he rolled over, drifted off into sleep,

 

I couldn’t control it, 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.

 

 

 

Then I put on his T-shirt of scarlet and gold,

 

with an eagle, globe and anchor emblazoned so bold.

 

And although it barely fit me, I began to swell with pride,

 

and for one shining moment, I was Marine Corps deep inside.

 

 

 

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 Day, all secure.”

 

 

 

One look at my watch and I knew he was right,

 

Merry Christmas my friend, Semper Fi and goodnight.