14 Navy Variations of ‘Twas The Night Before Christmas

Sailor's Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas a calm night at sea
We nestled in our racks for a Holiday Routine
When from the ventilation there came such a clatter
We jumped from our bunks to see what's the matter

When from the vent fell this big dust covered dude
He was dressed up in red with a bad attitude
Yelling, "Those ducts are all filthy!" as he brushed off his clothes
"Don't just damn stand there, where's the DCPO?"

He arose form the deck, then he peered all around
Then from his mouth came a bellowing sound
"This berthing's a disgrace!" then he called us by name
"Now Boatswain, Now Corpsman, please explain!"

This was not the Santa I remembered from youth
He smelled of cheap whiskey, he was rough and uncouth
"Now, look here you bastards" he said as he strolled
"You'd best trice this place up, or you'll get nothing but coal!"

"You'll make this space pretty, military, and neat!"
Then he looked down at our boots that lay right near his feat
"Well, what do we have here?" He said with a frown
"Who the hell polished these? Recruit 'Buster brown'?!"

He walked around slowly, he missed not a mark
He even spotted dust bunnies, right there in the dark!
"You've got high dust and low dust, and that overhead it needs cleaning!"
We all stood dumbfounded as his words kept on streaming

"Which man here is senior!?" Then asked St Nick
"You'd better shit me and answer…and SHIT ME ONE QUICK!
The First Class stepped forward, his heart pounding hard
"Now look right here shitbirds, this asshole's in charge!"

"These racks will be tight! This damn deck it will shine!
I don't want to hear bitching! I need not hear you whine!"
So we gathered our foxtales, our buckets, and swabs
We all worked all in silence to finish the job.

It took almost an hour finish our space
He just sat drinking coffee and stuffing his face
Then on re-inspection he explained with a huff
"Now this is more like it! Now your not so screwed up!"

We all stood there smiling, awaiting our gifts
But Santa just snapped out "What's the matter dumb-shits!?"
"Get back to your racks! This will be my last warning!
Just like on shore, the gifts come in the morning!"

It seemed like eternity until reveille sounded
We threw back our curtains as all our hearts pounded
But what were our gifts? For what did we suffer?
A pallet of rags and a shiny new buffer!

Attached to our new buffer, we found a short note
We all gathered 'round to see what he wrote
"Next year at Christmas, best have all your shit wired!"
Signed:
Fair Winds
S.C. Clause
BMCM(Retired)

---

Sailor's Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas, the ship was out steaming,
Sailors stood watch while others were dreaming.
They lived in a crowd with racks tight and small,
In a 80-man berthing, cramped one and all.

I had come down the stack with presents to give,
And to see inside just who might perhaps live.
I looked all about, a strange sight did I see,
No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.

No stockings were hung, shined boots close at hand,
On the bulkhead hung pictures of a far distant land.
They had medals and badges and awards of all kind,
And a sober thought came into my mind.

For this place was different, so dark and so dreary,
I had found the house of a Sailor, once I saw clearly.
A Sailor lay sleeping, silent and alone,
Curled up in a rack and dreaming of home.

The face was so gentle, the room squared away,
This was the United States Sailor today.
This was the hero I saw on TV,
Defending our country so we could be free.

I realized the families that I would visit this night,
Owed their lives to these Sailors lay willing to fight.
Soon round the world, the children would play,
And grownups would celebrate on Christmas Day.

They all enjoyed freedom each day of the year,
Because of the Sailor, like the one lying here.
I couldn't help wonder how many lay alone,
On a cold Christmas Eve on a sea, far from home.

The very thought brought a tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees and started to cry.
The Sailor awakened and I heard a calm voice,
"Santa, don't cry, this life is my choice."

"Defending the seas all days of the year,
So others may live and be free with no fear."
I thought for a moment, what a difficult road,
To live a life guided by honor and code.

After all it's Christmas Eve and the ship's underway!
But freedom isn't free and it's sailors who pay.
The Sailor say's to our country "be free and sleep tight,
No harm will come, not on my watch and not on this night.

The Sailor rolled over and drifted to sleep,
I couldn't control it, I continued to weep.
I kept watch for hours, so silent, so still,
I watched as the Sailor shivered from the night's cold chill.

I didn't want to leave on that cold dark night,
This guardian of honor so willing to fight.
The Sailor rolled over and with a voice strong and sure,
Commanded, "Carry on Santa, It's Christmas, and All is Secure!"

---

A Sailor’s Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas, he lived in a crowd,
In a 40 man berthing, with shipmates so loud.
I had come down the exhaust stack with presents to give,
And to see just who in this rack did live.

I looked all about, a strange sight did I see,
No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stockings were hung, just boot close at hand,
On the bulkhead hung pictures of far distance land.

He had medals and badges and awards of all kind,
And a sober thought came into my mind.
For this place was different, it was so dark and dreary,
I had found the house of a sailor, once I could see clearly.

The sailor lay sleeping, silent and alone,
Curled up in his rack, dreaming of home.
The face was so gentle, the berthing in such good order,
Not how I pictured a United States Sailor.

Was this the hero whom I saw on TV?
Defending his country so we all could be free?
I realized the families that I've seen this night,
Owed their lives to these sailors who were willing to fight.

Soon round the world, the children would play,
And grownups would celebrate a new Christmas Day.
They all enjoyed freedom each month of the year,
Because of the sailor, like the one lying here.

I couldn't help but wonder how many lay alone,
On a cold Christmas Eve on a sea, far from home.
The very thought brought a tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees and started to cry.

The sailor awakened and I heard a rough voice,
"Santa, don't cry, for this life is my choice."
"Defend the seas this day, So others may rejoice."
The sailor 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 shivered from the night's cold chill.
I didn't want to leave on that cold, dark night,

This guardian of honor so willing to fight.
Then the sailor rolled over and with a voice soft and pure,
Whispered, "Carry on Santa, it's Christmas Day, All is Secure."
Merry Christmas to one and all.

---

The Night before ORSE

Twas the night before ORSE
And all through the sub,
Not a watchstander worried
Not even a NUB.

The officers in the wardroom
Were banging their heads.
Thinking of failing filled them
With dread.

The CO in his stateroom
And the ENG in a trance
Had given up, thinking there
Wasn’t a chance.

When forward of Maneuvering
There arose such a clatter
The ENG came back running
To investigate the matter.

Away to the Engine Room
He flew like a breeze,
Stopped by Maneuvering
And started to wheeze.

The lights from Maneuvering
Were glistening off pipes
Which gave the boat a luster
Like a new prototype.

When out of his bloodshot eyes
He did catch,
A movement of the aft
Escape trunk hatch.

As he clutched at his heart
And was turning around,
Down the ladder
ADM Rickover came with a bound.

He was dressed in a wetsuit
From his head to his shoe,
And the clipboard he held
Looked just like brand new.

Now Scram it, now flood it,
Some high airborne too!
Let’s take some tests now
I’m ready…are you?

His tight little mouth
Was drawn up like a line.
His wrinkles were creased
And his white hair like twine.

His eyes, they were narrowed
His skin was so pale.
And when he screamed
He made the instruments fail.

He spoke no kind words
But went right to work
And told all the watchstanders
They operated like jerks.

With a spill in the tunnel
And the plant in a Scram,
He reflooded the escape trunk
And out of it he swam.

But we heard him exclaim,
‘Ere he shut down the lid,
“I passed you, you bastards,
And you’re lucky I did!”

---

A Visit From St. Rickover

‘Twas the night before Mission, and all through the sub Not a creature was stirring, not even a nub.
The Pre-crit was piled in the Wardroom with care.
We were ready to go – although I knew not where.

The EDO nestled, all snug in his bed;
The rover, I think, was back in the head; And I, in Maneuvering, was just barely awake; But kept pressing the button at each three minute break.

Then, from out in the spaces arose such a clatter That I opened an eyelid, just to check out the matter.
I thought of my button, and reached out in fright; But my pressure was fine, all heaters alight.

The lights started flickering, and though I’m a doubter I wondered if this might be a close encounter.
Then what should come in to the maneuvering space But a skinny old man with a dried-prune-like face.

He was dressed all in Civvies, some ratty brown suit That looked like it’d been buried and then taken root His eyes were on fire as he looked right on by me.
I knew in a moment that this MUST be Hymie.

He said not a word, but gave me a foul sneer As I struggled to shake off a feeling of fear.
When he spoke, his voice was as cold as the winter As, snarling, he asked for “Permission to Enter”.

I let him come in, I mean, what could I say?
My palms were all sweaty, my feet turned to clay He came in and sat on the E&S chair And in a crackling voice, a story he shared.

“Now I’ve been at my mission for so many years, That some people say ‘That old man’s slipped his gears’.
But let them all talk, I don’t need to be worried, For I know where a lot of their skeletons lie buried.”

“From Truman to Ike, Kennedy, Johnson,
Carter and Ford – (did I forget Nixon?)
I’ve headed the Nukes through each administration And though they’ve come and gone, I’m still here at my station.”

“Now through all these long years I’ve collected my pension, Terrified thousands and thousands of Ensigns, I’ve seen grow around me a bit of a taint.
It seems I’m accused of being a saint!”

“Now I’ve heard it supposed when the sun became light I was pulling the rods to the Point Of Adding Light.
How, although I’m NOT God, I have filled out the card.
Well I’m telling you now, that’s a whole lot of lard!”

And saying those words he walked out in a funk Went into the stern room and under the trunk.
And, laying a finger aside of his nose,
Gave the rover a nod, and up the ladder he rose.

And I heard him exclaim as he walked into the night “Damn it! It’s dark here! Let there be light!”
And there was light.

---

A Submarine Christmas Poem

'Twas the night before Christmas, he lived in a crowd,
In a 40 man berthing, with shipmates snoring so loud.
I came down the sail with presents to give,
And to see just who in this undersea boat did now live.
I looked all about, a strange sight did I see,
No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stockings were hung, just a 'poopy suit' close at hand,
On the bulkhead hung pictures of a far distant land.
He had medals and badges and awards from far and wide,
But one in particular my eye did soon find.
Why, they were Dolphins, with a tiny submarine...pinned on with pride,
Then a sobering thought did come to my mind.
For this place was different, it was so dark and dreary,
I had found the home of a Sub Sailor, once I could see clearly.
The Sailor lay sleeping, silent and alone,
Curled up in his rack, dreaming of home.
The face was so gentle, the berthing in good order,
Not how I pictured a U. S. Submarine Sailor.
Was this the hero whom I saw on TV?
Defending his country so we all could be free?
I realized the families that I've seen this cold night,
Owed their lives to these Sailors who were willing to fight.
Soon, 'round the world the children would play,
And grownups would celebrate a new Christmas Day.
They all enjoyed freedom each day of the year
Because of these Sailors, like the one lying here.
I couldn't help but wonder how many lay alone,
On a cold Christmas Eve, under sea, far from home.
The very thought made me pause and brought a tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees and started to cry.
The Sailor awakened and I heard a gruff voice,
“Santa, don't cry for me; this life is my choice.
I'll defend the seas on this day
And let others rejoice.”
The Sailor rolled over and drifted to sleep,
I couldn't control it, I started to weep.
I kept watch then for hours, silent and still,
And we both shivered a bit from the night's aching chill.
I didn't want to leave, on that dreary, cold night,
This Guardian of Honor, so willing to fight.
Then the Sailor rolled over and with a voice soft and pure,
Whispered, “Carry on, Santa, it's Christmas Day... all's secure.”
Author: Unknown

T'was the Night Before Christmas-USS Gurnard SSN-662 Style

Twas the night before Christmas and what no-one could see, the men with the Dolphins were under the sea.
Most of the crew were flat on their backs.
Snoring and dreaming all snug in their racks.
Those men on watch were making their rounds, some manning the planes or listening for sounds.
Back in maneuvering or down in the room, they all hoped the oncoming watch would come soon.
I'd finished some PM's whose time was now due, and hoped for some sleep, even an hour or two.
Against better judgement I took a short stroll, and found myself wandering into control.
The NAV had the Conn, the COW was in place, the COB had the Dive and a scowl on his face.
The helm and the planes were relaxed but aware, the QM and ET were discussing a dare.
To comply with the orders the NAV told the Dive, to bring the boat up with minimum rise.
The orders were given and soon they were there, at periscope depth with a scope in the air.
The QM confirmed our position with care, the broadcast was copied, we brought in some air.
The NAV on the scope let out a small cry, he shook his head twice and rubbed at his eyes.
He looked once again to find what it was, that interrupted his sweep and caused him to pause.
Try as he might there was nothing to see, so down went the scope and us to the deep.
I asked what it was that caused his dismay, he sheepishly said, "I'm embarrassed to say."
It could have been Northern Lights or a cloud, or a meteorite he wondered aloud.
But to tell you the truth I guess I must say, whatever it was it looked like a sleigh.
And though it passed quickly and never was clear, I almost believe it was pulled by reindeer.
We laughed and teased him and I got up to go, when our moment was broken by "Conn, Radio."
They told us a message was just coming in, we looked at the depth gauge and started to grin.
"Radio, Conn, I feel safe to say,
your attempt at a joke is too far delayed.
If it had been sooner it might have been neat, but I doubt we're receiving at four hundred feet."
"Conn, Radio you can come down and see,
we're not playing games to any degree."
I headed aft with nothing better to do,
surprised by the fact it was still coming through.
It stopped and was sent to control to be read, the NAV read it slowly and scratched at his head.
Then again he began but this time aloud, to those that now waited, a curious crowd.
"To you denizens of the deep and men of the sea, who risk your life daily so others stay free.
I rarely have seen you, on this my big night, for far too often you are hidden from sight.
But purely by luck I saw you tonight.
As your scope coaxed the plankton to glow in the night.
And lucky for me I've finally won,
the chance to say thanks for all you have done."
"I know that you miss your families at home, and sometimes you feel as if you're alone.
But trust what I say and I'll do what's right.
I'll take something special to your families tonight."
"Along with the gifts I'll take to your kin, I'll visit their dreams and leave word within.
They'll hear of your love, and how you miss them, I'll tell them that soon you'll be home again."
"It might not be much I know that is true, to thank you for all the things that you do.
But I'll do what I can, while you do what is right, Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night."
Author: Sean P. Keck IC2/SS USS Gurnard SSN 662.

---

T'was the Night Before Christmas-Submarine Style

T'was the night before Christmas, and what no-one could see,
The men with the dolphins were under the sea.
Most of the crew was flat on their backs,
Snoring and dreaming all snug in their racks.

Those men on watch were making their rounds,
Some manning the planes or listening for sounds.
Back in maneuvering or down in the room,
They all hoped the oncoming watch would come soon.

I'd finished some PM's whose time was now due,
And hoped for some sleep, even an hour or two.
Against better judgment I took a short stroll,
And found myself wandering into control.

The Nav had the Conn, the COW was in place,
The COB had the Dive and a scowl on his face.
The helm and the planes were relaxed but aware,
The QM and ET were discussing a dare.

To comply with the orders the Nav told the Dive,
To bring the boat up with minimum rise.
The orders were given and soon they were there,
At periscope depth with a scope in the air.

The QM confirmed our position with care,
The broadcast was copied, we brought in some air.
The Nav on the scope let out a small cry,
He shook his head twice and rubbed at his eyes.

He looked once again to find what it was,
That interrupted his sweep and caused him to pause.
Try as he might there was nothing to see,
So down went the scope and us to the deep.

I asked what it was that caused his dismay,
He sheepishly said, "I'm embarrassed to say."
It could have been Northern Lights or a cloud,
Or a meteorite he wondered aloud.

But to tell you the truth I guess I must say,
Whatever it was it looked like a sleigh.
And though it passed quickly and never was clear,
I almost believe it was pulled by reindeer.

We laughed and teased him and I got up to go,
When our moment was broken by "Conn, Radio."
They told us a message was just coming in,
We looked at the depth gauge and started to grin.

"Radio, Conn, I feel safe to say,
Your attempt at a joke is too long delayed.
If it had been sooner it might have been neat,
But I doubt we're receiving at four-hundred feet."

"Conn, Radio, you can come down and see,
We're not playing games to any degree."
I headed aft with nothing better to do,
Surprised by the fact it was still coming through.

It stopped and was sent to control to be read,
The Nav read it slowly and scratched at his head.
Then again he began but this time aloud,
To those that now waited, a curious crowd.

"To you Denizens of the Deep and men of the sea,
Who risk your life daily so others stay free.
I rarely have seen you on this, my big night,
For far too often you are hidden from sight.

But purely by luck I saw you tonight,
As your scope coaxed the plankton to glow in the night.
And lucky for me I've finally won,
The chance to say thanks for all you have done.

I know that you miss your families at home,
And sometimes you feel as if you're alone.
But trust what I say and I'll do what's right,
I'll take something special to your families tonight.

Along with the gifts I'll take to your kin,
I'll visit their dreams and leave word within.
They'll hear of your love, and how you miss them,
I'll tell them that soon you'll be home again.

It might not be much I know that is true,
To thank you for all the things that you do.
But I'll do what I can, while you do what's right,
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a goodnight."

---

Christmas At Sea

The sea is cold, the night is dark... the blowing wind is crisp,
I stare across the ship's huge deck... I did not get my wish.
I wanted so, to be at home... this year on Christmas Eve,
But this will be the year that I... did not get Christmas leave.

I stand and think about my family... gathered by the tree,
I know that one will say my name... and then they'll think of me.
I am not there to share their joy... my country needs me here,
But I am not the only one... who won't get home this year.

I miss my family but I am... on guard for my country,
Protecting those who can have Christmas... is my first duty.
Many men have given all... for us to have that right,
And I feel honored just to sacrifice... a Christmas night.

But still I'm feeling so alone... as many of us are,
As I just stand here on the deck... and watch a Christmas star.
I guess it is a Christmas star... it shines for all it's worth,
And I think back to when a star... foretold His peace on earth.

If only people felt this calm... as on this Christmas Eve,
And not create hostilities... that make their brothers grieve.
Then we could have a peaceful world... as it was meant to be,
But until then we must stand guard... and this night it is me.

Once again my thoughts turn home... my family safe and sound,
Because this ship and other men... are ready to stand ground.
The Navy and the other branches... keep us safe and strong,
So those at home can celebrate... and sing their Christmas song.

But knowing that I must do this... I can't hold back a tear,
Wishing I was home this Christmas... sharing in the cheer.
Seeing all my families faces... lights and Christmas trim,
Now the night is getting darker... as I think of them.

Trying now to fight this feeling... of such loneliness,
Softly speaking to myself... a lonely Christmas wish.
Actually my Christmas wish... is now a Christmas prayer,
Thank you for the men who serve... our country everywhere.

Thank you for our families... who enjoy this Christmas free,
Thank you for the other men... who serve this ship with me.
Thank you for allowing me... to make this sacrifice,
A joyous Christmas for our families... makes it worth the price.

May there be peace within you today.
May you trust that you are exactly where you are meant to be.
I believe that friends are quiet angels who lift us to our feet when our
Wings have trouble remembering how to fly.

---

Naval Air Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas, And out on the ramp,
Not an airplane was stirring, Not even a Champ.
The aircraft were fastened, To tiedowns with care,
In hopes that come morning, They all would be there.

The fuel trucks were nestled, All snug in their spots,
With gusts from two-forty, At 39 knots.
I slumped at the fuel desk, Now finally caught up,
And settled down comfortably, Resting my butt.

When the radio lit up, With noise and chatter,
I turned up the scanner, To see what was the matter.
A voice clearly heard, Over static and snow,
Called for clearance to land, At the airport below.

He barked his transmission, So lively and quick,
Couldn't hear him too well, But think his call sign was "St.Nick".
I ran to the panel, To turn up the lights,
The better to welcome, This magical flight.

He called his position, No room for denial,
"St. Nicholas One, Turnin' left onto final."
And then to my wondering eyes, There did suddenly appear,
A Rutan-built sleigh, With eight Rotax Reindeer!

With vectors to final, Down the glide slope he came,
As he passed all fixes, He called them by name.
Now Ringo! Now Tolga! Now Trini and Bacun!
On Comet! On Cupid! " What pills was he takin'?

While controllers were sittin', And scratchin' their head,
They phoned to my office, And I heard it with dread.
The message they left, Was both urgent and dour:
"When Santa pulls in, Have him please call the tower."

He landed like silk, With the sled runners sparking,
Then I heard "Left at Charlie," And "Taxi to parking."
He slowed to a taxi, Turned off of three-oh,
And stopped on the ramp, With a "Ho-Ho-Ho..."

He stepped out of the sleigh, But before he talks,
I ran out to meet him, With my best set of chocks.
His red helmet and goggles, Were covered with frost,
And his beard was all blackened, From Reindeer exhaust.

His breath smelled like peppermint, Gone slightly stale,
And he puffed on a pipe, But didn't inhale.
His cheeks were all rosy, And jiggled like jelly,
His boots were as black, As a cropduster's belly.

He was chubby and plump, In his suit of bright red,
And he asked me to "fill it, With hundred low-lead."
Then he came dashing in, From the snow-covered pump,
I knew he was anxious, For drainin' the sump.

I spoke not a word, But went straight to my work,
And I filled up the sleigh, But I spilled like a jerk.
He came out of the restroom, And sighed in relief,
Then he picked up a phone, For a Flight Service brief.

And I thought as he silently, Scribed in his log,
These reindeer could land, In an eighth-mile fog.
He completed his pre-flight, From the front to the rear,
Then he put on his headset, And I heard him yell, "Clear!"

And laying a finger, On his push-to-talk,
He called up the tower, For clearance and squawk.
"Take taxiway Charlie, The southbound direction,
Turn right three-two-zero, At pilot's discretion"

He sped down the runway, The best of the best,
"Your traffic's a T-6, Inbound from the west"
Then I heard him proclaim, As he climbed thru the night,
"Merry Christmas to all! I have traffic in sight.

---

Air Defense Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the skies,
Air defenses were up, with electronic eyes.
Combat pilots were nestled in ready-room beds,
As enemy silhouettes danced in their heads.

Every jet on the apron, each SAM in its tube,
Was triply-redundant linked to the Blue Cube,
And ELINT and AWACS gave coverage so dense
That nothing that flew could slip through our defense.

When out of the klaxon arose such a clatter
I dashed to the screen to see what was the matter;
I dialed up the gain and then quick as a flash
Fine-adjusted the filters to damp out the hash.

And there found the source of the warning we'd heeded:
An incoming blip, by eight escorts preceded.
"Alert status red!" went the word down the wire,
As we gave every system the codes that meant "FIRE"!

On Aegis! Up Patriot, Phalanx and Hawk!
And scramble our fighters -- let's send the whole flock!
Launch decoys and missiles! Use chaff by the yard!
Get the kitchen sink up! Call the National Guard!

They turned toward the target, moved toward it, converged.
Till the tracks on the radar all finally merged,
And the sky was lit up with a demonic light,
As the foe became pieces in the high arctic night.

So we sent out some recon to look for debris,
Yet all that they found, both on land and on sea,
Were some toys, a red hat, a charred left leather boot,
Broken sleigh bells, some gloves, and a ripped parachute.

Now it is not quite Christmas, with Saint Nick shot down.
There are unhappy kids in each village and town.
Can the Spirit of Christmas even hope to evade
All the web of defenses we've carefully made?

Just look how the gadgets we use to protect us
In other ways alter, transform, and affect us.
They can keep us from things that make life more worth living,
Like love for each other, and thoughts of just giving.

But a crash program's on: Working hard, night and day,
All the elves are constructing a radar-proof sleigh.
So let's wait for next Christmas, in cheer and in health,
And be good boys and girls, as Santa goes STEALTH

---

The Corpsman’s Christmas Poem

'Twas the night before Christmas as I flew o'er the Marine Base,
When I spied a young man who seemed out of place.
His eyes showed compassion, his hair a bit long,
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. NAVY 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 sailor before?"
I sensed something special and longed to know more.

"To be honest, this field thing wasn't part of my plan,
But God didn't give me a boat or tin can."
The words he spoke next surprised me all the more,
"But I'm as proud of my Navy as I am of the Corps!"

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

"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 Marine 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 Marine 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 Navy Corpsman, their Doc, and I'll always be there."

"I follow the brave docs who have come long before,
From Belleau Wood, Iwo, and Lebanon'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 Corps 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?"

---

The Red Nomex Aviator

On the night before Christmas my ship was at sea,
A big flat-top "bird farm" from the land of the free.
Cruising the ocean at "the tip of the spear",
So everyone home could sleep sound with no fear.

Flight ops had ended hours ago,
The day crew had turned in and gone down below.
Night crew was doin' their maintenance checks,
The aircrews and pilots were gettin' some rest.

The cooks in the galley were fixin' Mid-rat's,
The Air Boss and Cap'n could finally relax.
CIC called up said something's inbound,
Prob'ly the mail plane, a C-2 Greyhound.

Stand clear of the foul-line, one to recover,
"Angel" is airborne, to starboard he'll hover.
Spotters see only one red blinkin' light,
No markers on wing-tips, now somethin' ain't right.

All eyes are watching but no one believes,
What comes o'er the round-down, bold as you please.
Nine deer and a sleigh, no tail-hook or tires,
How does Paddles grade a trap with no wire?

A red Nomex flight-suit, of course gloves that match,
And S. Claus printed on his aviator patch.
Why, it's old Santa Claus wearin' goggles and leather,
With bags full of Christmas cards, presents and letters.

Don't stand there gawkin', froze in your tracks,
Give him a hand with unloadin' those sacks.
The bags are all carried to the mail room below,
And after a pre-flight, Santa's ready to go.

The cat-crew is wondering now which hold-back pin?
Santa just laughs then he's airborne again.
We didn't hear jingling bells from his sleigh,
Ol' Santa was whistling Anchors Aweigh.

Off the angle-deck, over wave-caps of white,
Even without afterburners he's soon out of sight.
We all stood there doubting what we had just seen,
But the deer left a present, smelly and green.

Over the side with all the deer turds,
Don't want them things fod'in one of our birds.
Tho' that night happened many long years ago,
Santa still travels to our ships on the foam.

---

Old Navy Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas, compartments were still,
The sailors were sleeping, as most sailors will.
The ditty bags hung by the lockers with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there

The men were all peacefully dreaming in bed
As visions of liberty danced in each head.
The Chief in his skivvies, hopped into his rack,
Having just came from town and a quick midnight snack.

When out on the deck there arose such a roar,
I ran to the porthole to find out the score.
I stuck out my head and started to shout,
"Just what in the world is this noise all about?"

A moon made for boondocking showed with a glow,
It was downright cold out, 'bout seven below.
What I saw out there looked like those Mardi Gras floats,
'Twas a Captain's gig drawn by four white Navy goats.

In the boat was a man who seemed quiet and moody,
I knew in an instant St. Nick had the duty.
As quickly as Monday his billy goats came,
He whistled and shouted and called them by name.

"Now Perry, now Farragut, Dewey and Jones,
What's the matter John Paul, got lead in your bones?
A little to Starb'rd, now hold it up short,
No fluffing off now, or you'll go on report!"

He was wearing dress "Reds" that fit like a charm,
His hash marks they covered the length of his arm.
The gifts to be issued were all in his pack,
The gedunk was ready to leave on each rack.

His eyes they were watering, his nose caked with ice,
He wiped it with canvass, then sneezed once or twice.
He opened his mouth and started to yawn,
It looked like the Sun coming up with the dawn.

The stump of a pipe, he held tight in his teeth,
And took a small nip from a bottle beneath
He wasn't so big, but he must have been strong,
I figured he'd been in SEALs early and long.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old Tar,
Who said "Evenin' Matey, here have a cigar."
He filled every seabag with presents galore,
And left us all leave papers, right by the door.

With "Anchors Aweigh" he climbed back into place,
A broad smile was creeping all over his face.
One look at his watch and he started to frown,
"This mid watch is certainly getting me down."

Then out to the breakwater and into the night,
The gig started fading, the landscape was bright.
"Merry Christmas" he said, as he drove on his way,
Now I'll finish my rounds and sack in for the day."

---

Guarding Christmas

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 eye 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 sailor, I puzzled, some twenty years old
Yet he stood there, 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!
Huury and 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 snow blown in a drift,
to the window that danced with a warm fire's light
then he sighed and he said "Its really all right,

I'm out here by choice. I'm here every night.
Our freedom comes first 'til the dawn's early light.
Its my duty to stand at the front of the lines,
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,
then he sighed, "That's 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 small rack with little to eat,
I can carry the weight of killing another
or lay down my life with my sisters and brothers

who stand at the front against any and all,
to insure 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 stand your own watch, no matter how long.
Have faith in our country, be bold, and be strong

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".