Afar from home,on both land and sea. Nary a tree in sight, and no Christmas Ham for Me. My rifle is battered,bruised and scarred.Much like Myself, for this tour is hard. No popular support,for many think it's all over. Yet time and again, My squad is in the field,with our trusty IED dog Rover. We are few and far between us, sent here to train. We're fighting a eons old war that is too old to give a name. Some say it's against terrorism,or even good and bad. This We cannot say, as we fight in Abbatobad.
We don't want a hoverboard,we can see the damn thing has wheels.We merely want tomorrow We ask,for this a devil we would deal. You can keep Your iphone,and even Your laptop. I want not Your car, nor even a bar.All I want now is for Me,too far. For no one is granted tomorrows sunrise. For some of us, it's a done deal that We will not rise. Our Hero's gone on to Valhalla's embrace. As the final war of all approaches at a breakneck pace.
There is no singing in Flanders Field, there is no celebration of joy at FOB Steel. For us our present arrived when We woke. Another day to live, to see home and heart approach. I'll eat My MRE,with abandon and glee. Celebrating Holidays?HELL NO,celebrating ME. The Fighting Warrior, still I stand tall. My generations before Me steel My resolve. I've missed birthdays, holidays and such. For I would give My very life,that No one else would bear such. I have not smelled My kitchen filled with foods,I have not been subject to a merry mood.No these things will wait,for My safe return. Save a last yule log,for Me to burn.
When I finally trudge up that snowy drive. My BDU's pressed and eyes finally alive. I can hear songs,and chatter of those I love. Not a clue that I am approaching, much less alive. I throw open the door, and all eyes turn towards Me. The stares and awe are all upon ME. 'How could You,when did You,how did it happen' mobbed by My family, NOW Christmas can happen. I got My present, sure as the sun rose. It's all I asked for,and it was this that I chose.I will leave again soon,to stand on watch. Until then,Dear Family, keep Me in Your clutch. My soul needs a pressing,My mental wounds need some dressing. Perhaps a glass or two of scotch,a warm fire and a couch. Christmas is here, I ask of You all
HAVE A MERRY CHRISTMAS/TO YOU ALL-