As I am sitting here in my tent over in Tikrit, Iraq I just opened a Christmas card from a little girl back in the states and in the card there was a story. I know this has nothing to do with WW2 aviation but I wish to post this story in honor of all the soldiers no matter what country they come from who are away from there families during this holiday season.
A Soldiers Christmas Story
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 too see who in this house did live. I looked all about a strange sight did I see, no tinsel, no presents, not even a tree. No stocking by the mantel, just boots filled with sand, on a 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 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 disorder, not how I pictured a United States soldier. Was this the soldier of whom I had just read? Curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed? I realized the families that I saw this night owed there lives to these soldiers willing to fight. Soon round the world, the children would play, and grownups would celebrate a bright Christmas day. The all enjoyed freedom each month of the year, because of these soldiers, like the one laying 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 awakend and I heard a rough voice, :Santa don't cry, this life is my choice; I fight for freedom, I do not ask for more, my life is my God, my Country, My Corps." The soldier rolled over and drifted to sleep, I couldn't control it, I continued to weep. I kept watch for hours, so silent, so still, and we both shiverd from the cold nights chill. I didn't want to leave on that cold, dark, night, this guardian of honor so willing to fight. Then the soldier rolled over, with a voice soft and pure, whispered, "Carry on Santa, its 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."