apologies to Clement Moore

Twas the night before Christmas


'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 thru the night,
"Merry Christmas to all! I have traffic in sight."

Anonymous

Merry Christmas!! Happy Holidays!! Season's Greetings!!


www.Rosspilot.com

GIGGLE!!!

Good one!!

"Rosspilot" wrote in message
...

Twas the night before Christmas


'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 thru the night,
"Merry Christmas to all! I have traffic in sight."

Anonymous

Merry Christmas!! Happy Holidays!! Season's Greetings!!


www.Rosspilot.com

And a very merry Holiday Season to you and your family; and to all of you!!!

Harry

"Rosspilot" wrote in message
...

Twas the night before Christmas

SNIP
Merry Christmas!! Happy Holidays!! Season's Greetings!!


www.Rosspilot.com

Merry Christmas!! Happy Holidays!! Season's Greetings!!

Same to you, and all!
--
Jay Honeck
Iowa City, IA
Pathfinder N56993
www.AlexisParkInn.com
"Your Aviation Destination"

"Rosspilot" wrote in message
Merry Christmas!! Happy Holidays!! Season's Greetings!!

Merry Kwanzaa!

--
Jim Fisher

Two Weeks Before Christmas!



T'was two weeks before Christmas, And all through Iraq,

The people still worried that Saddam would be back.

The Soldiers went out on their nightly patrol,

Capturing the bad guys was always their goal!



With raids seeming endless in the triangle Sunni,

We hoped that not all of Iraq was so looney!

We gathered the tribe of Saddam, in Tikrit,

And suddenly now they all started to snit!



They told of a farm where Hussein just might be

Odierno then called on our boys- from the great 4th ID!

More rapid than Baathists our soldiers they came,

And he whistled and shouted and called them by name



Now Delta, Now Rangers, Now Cavalry too!

On Green Hats, on Pilots, I need all of you!

Go to that farm and secure it right now!

Capture his ass- you guys know how!

Off went our soldiers under cover of night,

So stealthy, so quiet with no trace of light

While we back at home were eating our lunches,

Our boys on the ground were following hunches!



And then it was time for the raid to begin.

The first target came up -empty within!

Could it be our Intel was wrong once again?

No! Somewhere nearby the wolf in his den!



And then in a twinkling, camouflage torn away

In a hold in the ground did their quarry lay

Dazed and confused, right at them he looked,

Did the stupid old fool know his goose was now cooked?



He was dressed all in rags from his toes to his head,

And his beard was as matted as 12 day-old bread!

How the mighty had fallen, could this be Hussein?

One look in his eyes was to know he's insane!



Our boys got their man - how proud we all are

The relief in our country is felt near and far

A bath he has had now -yet he'll never be clean

Forever tainted with mass torture and his Fedayeen.



To our soldiers we give our undying respect

You always give more than we ever expect

We hope you can have now a night with some fun



Your loved ones back home say

-JOB DAMN WELL DONE!



Written by Deborah Sandberg-Proud Army Mom (101st Airborne Division) dated
December 14, 2003.

"Greg Burkhart" wrote in message
news:ZsrFb.617375$Tr4.1605201@attbi_s03...
Two Weeks Before Christmas!



T'was two weeks before Christmas, And all through Iraq,

The people still worried that Saddam would be back.

The Soldiers went out on their nightly patrol,

Capturing the bad guys was always their goal!



With raids seeming endless in the triangle Sunni,

We hoped that not all of Iraq was so looney!

We gathered the tribe of Saddam, in Tikrit,

And suddenly now they all started to snit!



They told of a farm where Hussein just might be

Odierno then called on our boys- from the great 4th ID!

More rapid than Baathists our soldiers they came,

And he whistled and shouted and called them by name



Now Delta, Now Rangers, Now Cavalry too!

On Green Hats, on Pilots, I need all of you!

Go to that farm and secure it right now!

Capture his ass- you guys know how!

Off went our soldiers under cover of night,

So stealthy, so quiet with no trace of light

While we back at home were eating our lunches,

Our boys on the ground were following hunches!



And then it was time for the raid to begin.

The first target came up -empty within!

Could it be our Intel was wrong once again?

No! Somewhere nearby the wolf in his den!



And then in a twinkling, camouflage torn away

In a hold in the ground did their quarry lay

Dazed and confused, right at them he looked,

Did the stupid old fool know his goose was now cooked?



He was dressed all in rags from his toes to his head,

And his beard was as matted as 12 day-old bread!

How the mighty had fallen, could this be Hussein?

One look in his eyes was to know he's insane!



Our boys got their man - how proud we all are

The relief in our country is felt near and far

A bath he has had now -yet he'll never be clean

Forever tainted with mass torture and his Fedayeen.



To our soldiers we give our undying respect

You always give more than we ever expect

We hope you can have now a night with some fun



Your loved ones back home say

-JOB DAMN WELL DONE!



Written by Deborah Sandberg-Proud Army Mom (101st Airborne Division) dated
December 14, 2003.


''Twas the night of the capture, when all through the hole,
Not a creature was stirring, except for one soul;
The operation started with stealth and care,
And American forces would soon be there;

Saddam was snuggled inside his dirt bed,
With visions of recapturing power dancing in his head;
And there in a hole getting ready for a nap,
Living like vermin, Like a dirty sewer rat,

When up above there arose such a clatter,
The deposed dictator rose to see what was the matter.
Our troops had descended in such a great flash,
He grabbed his AK-47 and his $750,000 in cash,

The troops had come before he would know
Shining a flashlight beam on the dictator below,
When, what to his wandering eyes would appear,
But United States troops, and his worst fear,

He looked dirty and tattered like an old bum,
He knew at that moment his judgment day had come.
More rapid than eagles Special Forces they came,
And he threw up his hands, when they called him by name;

"Come out Now! Do not resist!
We urge you to give up, Cease and Desist!
To the top of the hole! With your hands up high!
Surrender peacefully or you will die!"

And then in his pants tinkling, confronting the truth
The United States forces would soon have their proof
As he threw up his hands, down below the ground,
A security perimeter was set up around.

He looked unkempt and tired from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were tarnished with mud and soot;
A layer of grime now covered his back,
He looked like a bum who had just smoked crack.

His eyes--filled with tears! His dimples not merry!
His cheeks sunken in, his beard dirty and hairy!
His confident smile was now a great droop,
He was now in our custody in one fell swoop.

He was haggard and slumped, a shell of his old self,
And I laughed when I saw him on the news in spite of myself;
A Medic shining a flashlight into his eyes and twisting his head,
Soon the Iraqi people will know they have nothing to dread:

He was cooperative and spoke words, and will soon confess his evil work,
And we can rejoice in the fact that they captured this jerk,
To the critics who to this point that have held their nose,
Another terror of mankind has now been deposed:

To those who don't believe, listen to the Iraqi people shout and whistle,
Away his regime goes down like a dud SCUD missile.
Then I heard the Ambassador claim, right there in plain sight,
"American troops captured Saddam Hussein last night!"

Merry Christmas

Semper Fidelis

God Bless the United States Marine Corps

The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,
I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.
My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,
my daughter beside me, angelic in rest.

Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,
Transforming the yard to a winter delight.
The sparkling lights in the tree, I believe,
Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.

My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,
Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep
in perfect contentment, or so it would seem.
So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.

The sound wasn't loud, and it wasn't too near,
But I opened my eye when it tickled my ear.
Perhaps just a cough, I didn't quite know,
Then the sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.

My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear,
and I crept to the door just to see who was near.
Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night,
A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.

A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old
Perhaps a Marne Man, huddled here in the cold.
Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,
Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.

"What are you doing?" I asked without fear
"Come in this moment, it's freezing out here!
Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve,
You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!"

For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,
away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts,
to the window that danced with a warm fire's light
then he sighed and he said "Its really all right,
I'm out here by choice. I'm here every night"

"Its my duty to stand at the front of the line,
that separates you from the darkest of times.
No one had to ask or beg or implore me,
I'm proud to stand here like my fathers before me.

My Gramps died at 'Pearl on a day in December,"
then he sighed, "That's a Christmas 'Gram always remembers."
My dad stood his watch in the jungles of 'Nam
And now it is my turn and so, here I am.

I've not seen my own son in more than a while,
But my wife sends me pictures, he's sure got her smile
Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,
The red white and blue... an American flag.

"I can live through the cold and the being alone,
Away from my family, my house and my home,
I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,
I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat,
I can carry the weight of killing another
or lay down my life with my sisters and brothers
who stand at the front against any and all,
to insure for all time that this flag will not fall."

"So go back inside," he said, "harbor no fright
Your family is waiting and I'll be all right."
"But isn't there something I can do, at the least,
"Give you money," I asked, "or prepare you a feast?
It seems all too little for all that you've done,
For being away from your wife and your son."

Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret,
"Just tell us you love us, and never forget
To fight for our rights back at home while we're gone.
To stand your own watch, no matter how long.

For when we come home, either standing or dead,
to know you remember we fought and we bled
is payment enough, and with that we will trust.
That we mattered to you as you mattered to us.