Without commission your peers a commander made - while others found more comfy beds.
Not all warriors earn rank and stars. Not all can summon wings and dragon fire for close support
A uniform the warrior does not always need. From early days they seek a harder road. Truly special - means special ops.
Civilian paths they may take to watch for distant chatter and shadows in the skies.
But the warrior heart may one day answer a call from protected perch to the lion’s den.
The warrior spirit this Christmas Eve has called you far from home.
Far away our warrior sleeps, with food in canister and uniforms in perimeter.
Commendations for missions past were never sought for fame or rank.
Warriors take comfort in the practice of their craft, the shine of instruments you hone, and a Colt you do not ride.
The warrior heart cannot lie. Pride and honor can be earned for things which others classify.
The humble warrior yearns for home, but for him his needs are last.
May a safe return always be the wish for a young warrior’s first Christmas in a foreign land.
May the warrior soon return to the embrace of a loved one’s hand.
Warriors stand between us and foe in many ways. With stripes and stars some nobly serve.
Some stand in shadowed whispers between us and harm. No less honor do they deserve.
A warrior may be your quiet neighbor never feared.
Their fangs they will bear to strongly stand between loved one or stranger and what may suddenly appear.
May warriors of stripes and those without those threads always find courage, wiles, and the means.
Warriors will bear the Christmas even cold and far from home - for what others shun for them is a sacred call.
May hearts this Christmas pierce the miles and dark and keep them warm.
While their tasks and missions others fear, let time soon find them home toasting with those they hold dear.
Ernest Bordini, Ph.D.
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