Jeff MacNelly was a friend of the military, and especially of the Navy. He did a number of ‘special’ cartoons over the years for those of us who served…
This is one of my favorites… Sadly he passed way too young in 2000 due to lymphoma.
Author unknown, but a damn good one…
This one goes out to Brigid, Alma, Frito, Flake, Juvat, JP, JimJim, Wing, Joe and all the other aviators out there…
‘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.”
And a Sailor version…
Twas the night before Christmas, and he lived in a crowd,
In a 40 man berthing, with shipmates so loud.
I had come down the exhaust stack with presents to give,
And to see just who in this rack did live.
I looked all about, and a strange sight I did see,
No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stockings were hung, just boots close at hand,
On the bulkhead hung pictures ………of far distant lands.
He had medals and badges and awards of all kinds,
and a sobering thought came into my mind.
For this place was different, it was so dark and dreary,
I had found the home of a Sailor, this I could see clearly.
The Sailor lay sleeping, silent and alone,
Curled up in his rack, dreaming of home.
The face was so gentle, the berthing in such good order,
But not how I pictured a United States Sailor.
Was this the hero whom I saw on TV?
Defending his country so we all could be free?
I realized the families that I’ve seen this night,
Owed their lives to these Sailors who were willing to fight.
Soon round the world, the children would play,
And grownups would celebrate a new Christmas Day.
They all enjoyed freedom each month of the year,
Because of the Sailors, like the one lying here.
I couldn’t help but wonder how many lay alone,
On a cold Christmas Eve, on a sea far from home.
The very thought brought a tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees and started to cry.
The sailor awakened and I heard a rough voice,
“Santa, don’t cry, for this life is my choice.”
“Defend the seas this day, the peace do I keep.”
The sailor then rolled over and drifted to sleep,
I kept watch for hours so silent, so still,
And we both shivered from the night’s cold chill.
I didn’t want to leave on that cold, dark night,
This guardian of honor so willing to fight.
Then the Sailor rolled over and with a voice soft and pure,
Whispered, “Carry on Santa, it’s Christmas..All is Secure”
Modified by Jim Fuqua, USN Retired
And one more…
A SOLDIER’S CHRISTMAS POEM
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 i did see,
No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stocking 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 sober thought came through my mind.
For this house was different, it was dark and dreary,
I 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 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 round the world, the children would play,
And grownups 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.
The very thought brought a tear to my eye,
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 corps.”
The soldier rolled over and drifted to sleep,
I couldn’t control it, i continued 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,
This guardian of honor so willing to fight.
Then the soldier rolled over, with a voice soft and pure,
Whispered, “carry on Santa, it’s Christmas day, all is secure.”
One look at my watch, and I knew he was right,
Merry Christmas my friend, and to all a good night.
