Merry Christmas, My Friend


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.




LCPL James M. Schmidt, USMC, 1986