Poem pays tribute to country's soldiers, military families

Last Sunday I received a call from Emma, she said her grandson just entered the U.S. Army. She asked me to please re-print the Soldiers Christmas Poem.

Emma, this is for you and for all those who have family members serving in countries other than our own. May God bless them and their families for their sacrifice during this holiday season.

Having served more than 20 years in the military and of that time, 14 years was served overseas. I fully understand the emotions our young soldiers, sailors, airman, and marines feel during the holiday seasons. I came across a poem I modified almost 30 years ago and thought you may find it eye opening. It was written originally by Clement Moore in 1822.

Twas the night before Christmas, they were all alone. In a one bedroom house made of plaster and stone, they held their position, unwilling to give. I had come down the chimney with presents in hand to see just who lived in this distant land. 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 far off lands. With medals and badges pinned on their chests, a sober thought came to mind. For this house was different, so dark and dreary, I knew I had found a battle site for soldiers, sailors, airmen, and marines. I heard stories about them; I had to see more, so I walked down the hall and pushed open the door. And there, weapons against the wall, they lay sleeping silent alone, curled up on the floor in this one bedroom house. Their faces so gentle, this room in such disorder, not how I pictured U.S. soldiers. Was these the heroe of whom I'd just read? Curled up in their ponchos, a floor for their bed? Their heads were clean shaven, their weathered face so tan, I soon understood these were more than men.  I realized the families that I saw that night owed their very lives to those men who were willing to fight. Soon 'round the world, the children would play, and grownups would celebrate on a bright Christmas day.

They all enjoyed freedom each month of the day, because of these soldiers lying here today. 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 tears to my eye, I dropped to my knees and started to cry.

One Marine woke and I heard a rough voice say, "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 and drifted off into sleep, I couldn't control it, I continued to weep. I watched them for hours, so silent and still, I noticed they shivered from the cold night's chill. I took one of my red blankets and covered them from head to foot. I didn't want to leave them on that cold dark dank night, the guardians of honor so willing to fight. Then a Sailor rolled over, whispered with a voice so clean and pure, "Carry on Santa, It's Christmas day, all is secure.

During this time of year, regardless of your political position, please say a prayer for those in harm's way.

n Copy written by Edmond E. Madan, certified forensic, fire, flood, mold inspection and remediation contractor. Ed is the CEO of Northwest Executive & Environmental Services, LLC .