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Christian
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Discussion Starter #1
This Poem was written by a Marine.

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 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 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 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 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.’

Merry Christmas to all our heroes both home and abroad. Pass this poem on and please remember a soldier in your thoughts and prayers for this Christmas Season.
 

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Information is Ammunition
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22,122 Posts
you said it was written by a marine- whats with all the 'soldier' talk?
 

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Christian
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Discussion Starter #3
you said it was written by a marine- whats with all the 'soldier' talk?
I just recieved the email it said it was written by a marine, no name or I would have posted it. Isnt a marine a soldier?
 

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Information is Ammunition
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I wouldn't try calling a marine a soldier. At least not to his face. :D:
 

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Christian
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Discussion Starter #10
a marine...
ok i asked for that pie in the face didnt I. So cut and paste the poem and do a replace on "soldier" and add "marine" .

BTW thats how I received the poem, I think the guy was writing so the average civilian could understand the purpose and not nitpick so much on semantics. Its pretty much a universal title...soldier, I was in the Air Force and people referred to me as a soldier all the time. They didnt know. and it certainly isnt disrespectful.
 
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we put up with it, but we much prefer Marine, Jarhead, or Leatherneck to soldier.

I have this exact poem but every place it reads soldier my version says Marine, I would guess there are a few variation floating around.

EDIT: I forgot Devil Dog... how in the world did I forget Devil Dog????
 

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Christian
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Discussion Starter #12
we put up with it, but we much prefer Marine, Jarhead, or Leatherneck to soldier.

I have this exact poem but every place it reads soldier my version says Marine, I would guess there are a few variation floating around.
Yes I was having a beer one evening on post with a few marines (NCO type club), and one asked me what branch I had served in, I told him Air Force but I had really wanted to be a Marine but simply coudn't pass the physical....

he got a very serious look on his face and asked what was the problem...without cracking a smile I said "I couldnt get my head in a jar" .....
 

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I wouldn't try calling a marine a soldier. At least not to his face. :D:
OK here is a Poem where Marines are correctly named as well as the various soldiers int he Army:

Halfway down the trail to Hell,
In a shady meadow green
Are the Souls of all dead troopers camped,
Near a good old-time canteen.
And this eternal resting place
Is known as Fiddlers' Green.
Marching past, straight through to Hell
The Infantry are seen.
Accompanied by the Engineers,
Artillery and Marines,
For none but the shades of Cavalrymen
Dismount at Fiddlers' Green.
Though some go curving down the trail
To seek a warmer scene.
No trooper ever gets to Hell
Ere he's emptied his canteen.
And so rides back to drink again
With friends at Fiddlers' Green.
And so when man and horse go down
Beneath a saber keen,
Or in a roaring charge of fierce melee
You stop a bullet clean,
And the hostiles come to get your scalp,
Just empty your canteen,
And put your pistol to your head
And go to Fiddlers' Green.
 

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Yes I was having a beer one evening on post with a few marines (NCO type club), and one asked me what branch I had served in, I told him Air Force but I had really wanted to be a Marine but simply coudn't pass the physical....

he got a very serious look on his face and asked what was the problem...without cracking a smile I said "I couldnt get my head in a jar" .....
ROFLMA !!!!!!!!! why is that Airmen always have good jokes? :rofl:
 

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Christian
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Discussion Starter #15
ROFLMA !!!!!!!!! why is that Airmen always have good jokes? :rofl:
I actualy got a roar of laughter at the table and my drinks paid for the rest of the night. Love you guys!
 

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Merry Christmas! Please give credit to the original author of this poem, my Uncle,
Lance Corporal James M. Schmidt. The poem posted above is a modified version of his writings over 20 years ago. Please allow me share with you the original. Both are truly touching.

ABOUT "MERRY CHRISTMAS, MY FRIEND"
Thanks to Brett Kramer, who wrote us yesterday with the correct information, we have learned that the beautiful poem sent to us some years ago by one of our "web friends" is a modified copy of the original circulated on the internet for some years. The original poem's true author, James M. Schmidt, was a Lance Corporal stationed in Washington, D.C., when he wrote the poem back in 1986.

The true story of the poem, as told by Lance Corporal Schmidt: "While a Lance Corporal serving as Battalion Counter Sniper at the Marine Barracks 8th & I, Washington, DC, under Commandant P.X. Kelly and Battalion Commander D.J. Myers [in 1986], I wrote this poem to hang on the door of the Gym in the BEQ. When Colonel Myers came upon it, he read it and immediately had copies sent to each department at the Barracks and promptly dismissed the entire Battalion early for Christmas leave. The poem was placed that day in the Marine Corps Gazette, distributed worldwide and later submitted to Leatherneck Magazine."

Schmidt's original version, entitled "Merry Christmas, My Friend," was published in Leatherneck (Magazine of the Marines) in December 1991, a full two years before it was supposedly "written" by someone else on Christmas Eve 1993 (and had appeared in the Barracks publication Pass in Review four years before it was printed in Leatherneck).

As Leatherneck wrote of the poem's author in 2003: "Merry Christmas, My Friend" has been a holiday favorite among "leatherneckphiles" for nearly the time it takes to complete a Marine Corps career. Few, however, know who wrote it and when. Former Corporal James M. Schmidt, stationed at Marine Barracks, Washington, D.C., pounded it out 17 years ago on a typewriter while awaiting the commanding officer's Christmas holiday decorations inspection . . . while other leathernecks strung lights for the Barracks' annual Christmas decoration contest, Schmidt contributed his poem to his section."

Over the years the text of "Merry Christmas, My Friend" has been altered to change the Marine-specific wording into Army references (including the title: U.S. Marines do not refer to themselves as "soldiers") and to incorporate line-ending rhyme changes necessitated by those alterations.

We reproduce below Corporal Schmidt's version as printed in Leatherneck back in 1991:

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.

Reports are that after leaving the Corps, Corporal Schmidt earned a law degree and now serves as an attorney in Los Angeles and is director of operations for a security consulting firm.
 

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Isaiah 41:10
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361 Posts
Merry Christmas! Please give credit to the original author of this poem, my Uncle,
Lance Corporal James M. Schmidt. The poem posted above is a modified version of his writings over 20 years ago. Please allow me share with you the original. Both are truly touching.

ABOUT "MERRY CHRISTMAS, MY FRIEND"
Thanks to Brett Kramer, who wrote us yesterday with the correct information, we have learned that the beautiful poem sent to us some years ago by one of our "web friends" is a modified copy of the original circulated on the internet for some years. The original poem's true author, James M. Schmidt, was a Lance Corporal stationed in Washington, D.C., when he wrote the poem back in 1986.

The true story of the poem, as told by Lance Corporal Schmidt: "While a Lance Corporal serving as Battalion Counter Sniper at the Marine Barracks 8th & I, Washington, DC, under Commandant P.X. Kelly and Battalion Commander D.J. Myers [in 1986], I wrote this poem to hang on the door of the Gym in the BEQ. When Colonel Myers came upon it, he read it and immediately had copies sent to each department at the Barracks and promptly dismissed the entire Battalion early for Christmas leave. The poem was placed that day in the Marine Corps Gazette, distributed worldwide and later submitted to Leatherneck Magazine."

Schmidt's original version, entitled "Merry Christmas, My Friend," was published in Leatherneck (Magazine of the Marines) in December 1991, a full two years before it was supposedly "written" by someone else on Christmas Eve 1993 (and had appeared in the Barracks publication Pass in Review four years before it was printed in Leatherneck).

As Leatherneck wrote of the poem's author in 2003: "Merry Christmas, My Friend" has been a holiday favorite among "leatherneckphiles" for nearly the time it takes to complete a Marine Corps career. Few, however, know who wrote it and when. Former Corporal James M. Schmidt, stationed at Marine Barracks, Washington, D.C., pounded it out 17 years ago on a typewriter while awaiting the commanding officer's Christmas holiday decorations inspection . . . while other leathernecks strung lights for the Barracks' annual Christmas decoration contest, Schmidt contributed his poem to his section."

Over the years the text of "Merry Christmas, My Friend" has been altered to change the Marine-specific wording into Army references (including the title: U.S. Marines do not refer to themselves as "soldiers") and to incorporate line-ending rhyme changes necessitated by those alterations.

We reproduce below Corporal Schmidt's version as printed in Leatherneck back in 1991:

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.

Reports are that after leaving the Corps, Corporal Schmidt earned a law degree and now serves as an attorney in Los Angeles and is director of operations for a security consulting firm.
thank you, and SEMPER FI. HOORAAY!
 

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Uh oh...
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57 Posts
I had this one sitting around in my files, not sure who wrote but I had it for a few years.

A DIFFERENT CHRISTMAS POEM

The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,
I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.
My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,
My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.

Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,
Transforming the yard to a winter delight.
The sparkling lights in the tree I believe,
Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.

My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,
Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep.
In perfect contentment, or so it would seem,
So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.

The sound wasn't loud, and it wasn't too near,
But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear.
Perhaps just a cough, I didn't quite know,
Then the sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.

My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear,
And I crept to the door just to see who was near.
Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night,
A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.

A military man, some twenty years old,
Carrying a weapon, huddled here in the cold.
Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,
Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.

"What are you doing?" I asked without fear,
"Come in this moment, it's freezing out here!
Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve,
You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!"

For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,
Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts..
To the window that danced with a warm fire's light
Then he sighed and he said "Its really all right,

"It's my duty to stand at the front of the line,
That separates you from the darkest of times.
No one had to ask or beg or implore me,
I'm proud to stand here like my fathers before me.

My Gramps died at 'Pearl on a day in December,"
That is a Christmas 'Gram' always remembers."
My dad stood his watch in the jungles of 'Nam',
And now it is my turn and so, here I am.

I've not seen my own son in more than a while,
But my wife sends me pictures, he's sure got her smile.
Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,
The red, white, and blue... an American flag.

"I can live through the cold and the being alone,
Away from my family, my house and my home.
I can stand at my watch through the rain and the sleet,
I can sleep in a tiny bed with little to eat.

I can carry the weight of killing another,
Or lay down my life with my sister and brother..
Who stand at the front against any and all,
To ensure for all time that this flag will not fall."

"So go back inside," he said, "harbor no fright,
Your family is waiting and I'll be all right."
"But isn't there something I can do, at the least,
"Give you money," I asked, "or prepare you a feast?

It seems all too little for all that you've done,
For being away from your wife and your son."
Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret,
"Just tell us you love us, and never forget.

To fight for our rights back at home while we're gone,
To stand your own watch, no matter how long.
For when we come home, either standing or dead,
To know you remember we fought and we bled.

Is payment enough, and with that we will trust,
That we mattered to you as you mattered to us.
 
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