A Ranger Christmas Story
A Ranger Christmas story
Twas the night before Christmas, when all thro' the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The AK’s were stacked by the door with out a care,
In hopes that Infidels would not be here;
The Hadjis were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of 72 virgins danced in their heads
Mohammed in his 'mandress, and I in my prayer cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winters nap—
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the blinds, and knocked over the hash.
The moon on the breast of the dark dingy sand,
Gave the luster to a possible firefight at hand;
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature helicopter, and eight Rangers with night vision gear.
A Platoon Sergeant, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be Ranger St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his teams came,
And he screamed, and shouted, and call'd them by name:
"Now, 1st Squad! Now, 2nd Squad! Place your charges; Stack on the door.
“Wait for my count to breach and clear every floor.”
"To the top of the porch! To the top of the house!
"Clear away! Clear away! Clear away all!"
As sand that blows during the wild storm flys,
As it meets with the rotor blades hovering in the sky;
So top of the house his teams did Rope,
With assault packs full of zip cuffs—and sniper teams with their DOPE.
And then with a large boom, I heard on the roof
The running and stomping of each 3rd Squad hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the stairs a big Ranger came a bound:
He was dress'd all in kit, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnish'd with sand and soot;
A bag of SSE equipment flung on his back,
As he cleared the house like a honey badger high on crack:
His eye—how green they glowed! His frown—how terrifyingly scary,
He flowed from room to room, not looking like a cherry;
His mouth was drawn up tight a like bow,
And he searched the house high and low;
The black rifle he held tight in his hands
Was pointed at Mohammed’s head while he tried to stand.
He had a broad back, with giant thick shoulders
He slammed Mohammed down, like falling boulders:
He was mean, violent, and rip down our shelf,
I cried to Allah when I saw him myself ;
A blink of an eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me nothing but fright and dread.
He spoke not a word, and went straight to his work,
Killing my cousin and then turn'd to me with a jerk,
Laying his finger on his trigger and giving me a nod
I decided I wanted to live up to my religious Jihad.
He sprung his safety as I raised my weapon
He shot a controlled pair within only a few seconds.
Down to the ground is where my body landed
bleeding alone, lifeless, and stranded;
But I heard him exclaim, before he passed out of sight—
Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night.
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