Saturday, December 20, 2008


Dear Friends,

When I was trying to think of a way to wish all of my friends a "Merry Christmas", I suddenly found myself writing a poem of sorts...oh, it's not a totally original poem (I'm not that creative). I took the poem, " TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS", changed the title and took many liberties with the poem itself. The end result was, "A CHARLIE FLIGHT CHRISTMAS". I hope you like it, and that it brings a smile to your face. And, whether you served on Crete when I was there or during a different time, or perhaps not at all, may I take this moment to wish all of you a very "Merry Christmas", and may God bless us all!

Your Friend and Fellow "Silent Warrior",

Bob (Midget) Armistead


‘Twas the mid before Christmas and all through the pound,
Those dits and dahs were making a helluva sound!
I sat at my position, my eye lids a saggin
The guy next to me was barfin’...the next one was gaggin’.

We’d all been to a party – had one helluva time.
We all drank raki...and chased it with wine.
There were no sugarplums that danced in our heads.
We were all so hung over, we wished we were dead!

With eyes that were crossed and mouths that were droolin
We sat at our one were we foolin’.
Our eyes were blood shot, our speech was all slurred;
We couldn’t walk straight and our vision was blurred!

The linguists were listening - all snug at their receivers
While trying to act busy like drunk little beavers.
They sipped on their coffee as black as cow dung.
They couldn’t understand their own native tongue!

Greg and Jack watched the X-2’s and kept them in check,
Most of them looked like they’d been in a wreck!
Their clothes were disheveled; their hair was a mess.
None of them was sober...or so I would guess.

Up front the maps hung from the ceiling with care
While analysts tracked jets that weren’t even there.
They typed up reports that no one could read,
And their eyes were so red they had started to bleed.

I sat at my typewriter and searched for the keys.
My head was a noddin’. Man, I needed some zzz’s.
When suddenly up front there arose such a clatter,
I sprang to my feet and listened to the chatter.

With headsets still on I raced toward the front;
When my patchcord ran out I let out a grunt.
My feet flew up and I came down with a crash,
And to my surprise I landed flat on my ass!

Just then the doors opened and all became quiet
And in stepped Santa to hush that damn riot.
He was dressed in fatigues, white hair and a beard,
Combat boots and M-16. Man, he sure looked weird!

He said not a word but went straight to each rack.
And gave every airman a present right from his sack.
To some he gave whiskey and others got beer,
Some got cigarettes or other holiday cheer.

But to all who were there and witnessed that sight,
There was only one gift we all wanted that night:
To be back with our families and all of our friends.
Santa promised next year to work toward those ends.

We went back to our racks, and without a sound,
Santa walked out the door and left the compound.
He climbed in his jeep and zoomed out of sight,
All the time waving and shouting, “Merry Christmas, Charlie Flight”!