T was the night before Christmas, and all through the compound,
Not a mortar was incoming, - not even one round.
Stockings were hung in each company with care,
In hopes that Saint Nick would still make it there.
The men were nestled in guard towers and beds (?),
While visions of the World's girls danced in their heads.
Me in my O.D. pajamas and the rest in their scivies
Faced this Christmas longing for civies.
When out near the perimeter there arose such a clatter
I dived under my bed, - didn't want to know the matter.
Trembling there I changed my mind,
Lest the others had gone and left me behind.
Away to the door I flew like a flash,
Cracked the thing open and felt ever so rash.
The moon on the brest of the new fallen rain
Showed all the mud our boots stood to gain.
And then again came that metal-like rattle,
And I looked to what must be the thick of the battle.
Then what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a funny little man with all that Santa Claus gear.
His fluffy red suit was caught in barbed wire,
And his snowless sleigh was missing a tire.
His eight reindeer completed the picture,
With curly tails and slanted eyes, a curious mixture.
They sat there and grinned when he called them by name;
Not one moved, not a reindeer came.
Now Mai, Now Nuy, Now Tei and Rik;
On Lei, On Hai, On Lien and Mik.
(Not to mention Rudolph the red-nosed Dum-Dum,
Couldn't move because he stepped in some gum-gum).
Oh Please, To the top of the barracks, to the top of the wall,
Now dash away, dash away, dash away all!
Never has a reindeer been so rude,
It was obvious- Santa must be rescued.
Toward the motor pool I managed to run,
But all I could find was a surly 5-ton.
I cranked her up and raced to the place
Where Santa was trapped, tears in his face.
I tore at his suit, his beard I untangled.
He finally came loose but looked pretty mangled.
His jolly old face covered with ashes and soot;
His red suit in shreds, a boot off his foot.
But old Saint Nack had not a worry.
The U.S. Army was there in a hurry.
A suit of O.D., his beard fully curled,
And combat boots "The best dressed Santa in the world!"
And last but not least- this is really a whopper-
S.C. would make tracks in his own Christmas Chopper.
He passed out the goodies and thanked us all soundly,
Climed in the Huey and laughed ever so roundly.
The blades started turning, his beard started blowing,
And he seemed to be sorry he had to be going.
But as he rose out of sight, he yelled - "Have no fear!
I'll see you some place else come next year.
I know I'm right, Don't be so uptight!
Happy Christmas to all, and to all a Good Night!"

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