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Santa Claus and the Soldier

  • T'was 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 some 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 such disorder,
    • Not how I had pictured an Aussie 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,
    • In 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 soldier 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 cold night's chill.
    • I didn't want to leave, on that cold, dark, night,
    • This guardian of honour, so willing to fight.
  • When the soldier 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.

Designed to instill patriotism, confidence, and a positive outlook, War Posters were used extensively during WWI & WWII to assist the military and persuade all Americans to help with the war effort.

 Using stark imagery to elicit powerful emotions, the posters appealed to people's conscience, fears and ideals of freedom and democracy. 

The posters called upon every man, woman, and child to make personal sacrifices or adjustments to further the greater national cause. 

Used for the purposes of recruitment, boosting production, motivation, rationing, conservation, security and financing the War, the posters linked the home front with the military front.

The Medic’s Christmas Poem
"'Twas the night before Christmas as I flew o'er the Army Post,
when I spied a young man who seemed out of place.
His eyes showed compassion, his hair a bit short,
but his head was held high and his body was strong.

His air was confident, his uniform smart,
but what impressed me most was the size of his heart.
For he embodied honor, one of this country's best,
and the words U.S. Army showed large on his chest.

As I stood there in wonder and gazed into his eyes,
the words that he spoke took me quite by surprise.
"What's wrong Santa, haven't you ever seen a Medic before?"
I sensed something special and longed to know more.

"To be honest, this field thing wasn't part of my plan,
but the Army didn't give me a hospital or garrison."
The words he spoke next surprised me all the more,
"But I'm as proud of my Unit as I am of the Army!"

"Don't worry Santa, that I'm a Medic you see,
for when a Soldier goes down they will still call on me.
They'll forget I'm a Soldier, they'll call in my stock.
At the top of their lungs they'll yell ,"Medic!"

"And I'll answer that call, anytime, anywhere.
Though I know I'm a target I really don't care.
I'll face incoming fire as I race cross the land,
and use my very own body to shield a downed man."

"Working long hours and into the night,
my unit's battle is over, but I'm just starting to fight.
For the life of every Soldier is sacred to me.
I refuse to surrender them to death, and in that I'll find victory."

"And yet I'll take the time to comfort a dying man,
to sit down by his side, to reach out and hold his hand.
For it takes as much courage to care as to fight.
For just as the poem says, many don't "go gently into that night."

"Santa, it's not any one uniform that makes you a man,
but rather it's those ideals for which you choose to stand.
I draw my line here, it's long and it's plain.
For pain, hurt and suffering are the things I disdain."

I know very well that I may lose my life,
So that a Soldier may see an unmet child and young wife.
So Santa, it really doesn't matter if they don't like my hair.
I'm a Army Medic, their Doc, and I'll always be there."

"I follow the brave docs who have come long before,
from North Africa, Korea, and Vietnam’s shore.
As history proudly shows, they all gave their best,
and for those who have died, surely they're blessed."

"At Inchon, the Gulf and times during Tet,
our brothers have fallen, but we carry on yet.
For we carry their honor and legacy still."
As I held back my tears it took all of my will.

I had to leave him there for I had other plans,
but I knew in my heart that the Army is in good hands.
As I flew away I heard his laughter, it rang so loud and clear.
"Hey Santa, how 'bout a nice pair of boots for the 26 miler next year?"

 

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