Bill Sykes' Newsletter
from America.
(January 2005)
An ex-Brit gives his views-(without fear
or favor)---of the American Scene
A
tribute to all soldiers who have fought heroically
for their country in a just cause:
This
poem, which has been around for a number of years,
(written by an anonymous author - purported to be a
soldier stationed in Okinawa, Japan), came across my
desk again this Christmas time and I have no qualms
in once again publishing a poem which I consider to
be a poignant reminder of the many men who have fought
with great heroism and patriotism for their country
and instead of returning to a country fit for heroes
to live in came back home, (many broken in body, mind,
and spirit), to face very hard times in desperately
trying to assimilate themselves back into, shall I
say, a normal society.
I watched a recent report on
a leading American news program that showed a young
American soldier who had just returned from Iraq in
a wheelchair. This young man had suffered spinal cord
wounds in Iraq that had left him paralysed from the
waist down - the father of this young man stated that
once his son left the war zone of Iraq, (and assumedly
the American hospital in Germany where he had been treated),
that his combat pay had been immediately rescinded leaving
him with approximately half the pay that he had been
receiving.
In order to face the uncertain future as a
disabled veteran, (although it was not mentioned), surely
this individual will now be entitled to a war disability
pension, which may help out financially but will not
make up in any way for the pain that he has endured and
the loss of future mobility.
Information can be found as to available benefits on
the Veteran’s website
at www.va.gov/health_benefits
So much for Governments who send their youth out to
fight in the killing fields of this world and do not
honour their pledge to bring them back to a country fit
for heroes to live in.
’Twas 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,
And to see
just who in this home did live.
I looked all about, a strange sight did I see,
No tinsel,
no presents, not even a tree.
No stockings by mantle,
just boots filled with sand,
On the wall hung pictures
of far distant lands.
With medals and badges, awards of all kinds,
A sobering thought came through to my mind,
For this house was different, it
was dark and was dreary,
I had found the home of a soldier, once I could
see clearly.
The soldier lay sleeping, silent, alone,
Curled up
on the floor in this one bedroom home,
The face was so
gentle, the room in such disorder,
Not how I had 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,
I realized the families
that I saw this night,
Owed their lives to these soldiers who were willing to fight.
Soon, around the world the children would play,
And
grown ups would celebrate a bright Christmas day,
They
all enjoyed freedom each month of the year,
Because
of the soldiers like the one lying here.
I couldn’t help wonder how many lay alone,
On
a cold Christmas Eve in a land far from home,
I dropped to my knees and started to cry,
The soldier awakened and I heard
a 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 Corp."
The soldier rolled over and drifted to sleep,
I couldn’t control it and started to weep,
I kept watch for hours so
silent and still,
And we both shivered from the cold night’s chill.
I didn’t want to leave on that cold dark night,
That Guardian of Honour so willing to fight.
Then the soldier rolled over, and with a voice soft and pure,
Whispered, "Carry on Santa, it’s Christmas Day and all is secure."
One
look at my watch and I knew he was right,
Merry Christmas my friend and to all a good night.
We welcome feedback about any of the contents of these
newsletters. Please send all correspondence to bill_sykes@huddersfield1.co.uk
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