Something for the Holidays!!!

Started by abdsp51, December 22, 2017, 04:16:21 AM

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abdsp51


arajca

This is obviously a fire crew with too much time on its hands. Which, for a a fire crew, is not a bad thing.

abdsp51

A Soldier's Silent Night

Words: James M. Schmidt, 1986, alt.

T'was 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
To see just who,
in this dwelling did live.

I looked all around
A strange sight to see
No tinsel, no presents,
Not even a tree.

On the wall hung pictures
of far distant lands.
Medals 'n badges, awards of every kind;
A sobering thought came alive in my mind.

This house was different...
it was dark, it was dreary.
I had found the home of a soldier,
I could see that most clearly.

The soldier lay sleeping,
Silent, Alone;
Curled up on the floor
In this one bedroom home.

His face was so gentle,
The room in such disorder;
Not at all 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?

Then I realized the other families
I saw this night,
Owed their lives to soldiers
Who were willing to fight.

In the morning, round the world,
Children would play;
Grown-ups would celebrate
A bright Christmas Day.

But they all enjoy freedom
Each month of the year,
Because of soldiers
Like the one lying here.

I couldn't help but wonder
How many lay alone,
On a cold Christmas Eve
In lands far from home.

The very thought
Brought a tear to my eyes;
I dropped to my knees,
I started to cry.

The soldier awakened
I heard his 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.
But, I couldn't control it,
I continued to weep.

I kept watch for hours,
So silent and still;
As both of us shivered
From the cold night's chill.

I didn't want to leave him
On that cold, dark night;
This guardian of honor,
So willing to fight.

Then, the soldier rolled over,
In a voice soft and pure,
He whispered, "Carry on Santa,
It's Christmas Day, all is secure."

One look at my watch,
I knew he was right.
Merry Christmas my friend,
May God bless you this night.

etodd

For the Pilots ......

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 with 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,
I'd have sworn that the call sign he used 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 what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Rutan-built sleigh, with eight Rotax Reindeer!
With vectors to final, down the glideslope 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-ho..."
He stepped out of the sleigh, but before he could talk,
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 he 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."
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 Grumman, inbound from the west."
Then I heard him proclaim, as he climbed through the night,
"Merry Christmas to all! I have traffic in sight."

Author unknown
"Don't try to explain it, just bow your head
Breathe in, breathe out, move on ..."