For Red and others who served our Nation

[UndercovrAngel]

While trying to find another poem that I had seen in regards to Christmas eve and a soldier standing guard, I came upon this poem. I think that it says what Red wrote in regards to the Navy Corp.

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?"

HMC(FMF/SW) Mark Forsberg
2/3 UDP, Okinawa, December 1997



Angel ^j^

[UndercovrAngel]

Here is another poem that I just found:


'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the base
Only sentries were stirring - they guarded the place.
At the foot of each bunk sat a helmet and boot
For the Santa of Soldiers to fill up with loot.

The Soldiers were sleeping and snoring away
As they dreamed of "back home" on good Christmas Day.
One snoozed with his rifle - he seemed so content.
I slept with the letters my family had sent.

When outside the tent there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my rack to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Poked out my head, and yelled, "What was that crash?"

When what to my thrill and relief should appear,
But one of our Blackhawks to give the all clear.
More rattles and rumbles! I heard a deep whine!
Then up drove eight Humvees, a jeep close behind.

Each vehicle painted a bright Christmas green,
With more lights and gold tinsel than I'd ever seen.
The convoy commander leaped down and he paused.
I knew then and there it was Sergeant McClaus!

More rapid than rockets, his drivers they came
When he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
"Now, Cohen! Mendoza! Woslowski! McCord!
Now, Li! Watts! Donetti! And Specialist Ford!"

"Go fill up my seabags with gifts large and small!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away, all!"
In the blink of an eye, to their trucks the troops darted.
The engines did flutter, they sputtered, then started.

The armored moved out - it was "Duty or bust."
McClaus disappeared in all of the dust!
As I drew in my head and was turning around.
Through the tent flap the sergeant came in with a bound.

He was dressed all in camo and looked quite a sight
With a Santa hat added for this special night.
His eyes - sharp as lasers! He stood six feet six.
His nose was quite crooked, his jaw hard as bricks!

A stub of cigar he held clamped in his teeth.
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
A young driver walked in with a seabag in tow.
McClaus took the bag, told the driver to go.

Then the sarge went to work. And his mission today?
Bring Christmas from home to the troops far away!
Tasty gifts from old friends in the helmets he laid.
There were candies, and cookies, and cakes all homemade.

Many parents sent phone cards so soldiers could hear
Treasured voices and laughter of those they held dear.
Loving husbands and wives had mailed photos galore
Of weddings and birthdays and first steps and more.

And for each soldier's boot, like a warm, happy hug,
There was art from the children at home sweet and snug.
As he finished the job - did I see a twinkle?
Was that a small smile or instead just a wrinkle?

To the top of his brow he raised up his hand
And gave a salute that made me feel grand.
I gasped in surprise when, his face all aglow,
He gave a huge grin and a big HO! HO! HO!

HO! HO! HO! from the barracks and then from the base.
HO! HO! HO! as the convoy sped up into space.
As the camp radar lost him, I heard this faint call:
"HAPPY CHRISTMAS, BRAVE SOLDIERS!
MAY PEACE COME TO ALL

[red1030]

UndercovrAngel.... how delightful. I know Mark ... I left Okinawa in May of 1997. He was our chief at medically related services... where I was assigned. What a great poem he wrote... wow this world is so small. i had no idea. I wonder where he is today, most likely he is retired by now... thank you... great memories. Red