Down in Troop-ville
Liked Christmas a lot …
But the Sergeant Major
Ensconced in his office
The Sergeant Major hated Christmas! The whole Christmas season!
Some thought TBI or his unfaithful wife was the reason.
It could be his safety brief wouldn’t download quite right.
It could be, perhaps, his glow belt was too tight.
But I think that the most likely reason of all
May have been that his manhood was two sizes too small.
Whatever the reason,
His junk or marital woes,
He stood there on Christmas Eve, hating the Joes,
Staring down at leave requests, ensuring each was denied
Nothing pleased him as much as making a soldier cry
For he knew every one in the barracks beneath
Was busy now, packing for Christmas leave.
“And they’ll wear civilian clothes!” he snarled with a sneer.
“Tomorrow is Christmas! It’s practically here!”
Then he growled, his his heart as hard as rock,
“I MUST find a way to prevent the Christmas leave block!”
For, Tomorrow, he knew …
… All the Janes and the Joes
Would wake up bright and early. They expected to go home!
And then! Oh the joy! Oh, the joy! Joy! Joy! Joy!
That’s one thing he hated! The JOY! JOY! JOY! JOY!
Then the troops, young and old, would sit down and drink.
And they’d drink! And they’d drink!
And they’d DRINK! DRINK! DRINK! DRINK!
They would consume beer and with booze they would toast!
Which was something the Sergeant Major dreaded the most!
They’d do something he liked least of all!
Every soldier in his unit, the tall and the small.
Would do whatever they liked on Christmas,
Without a fresh shave at all!
They would do no PME!
There would be no PT!
And the more the Sgt. Maj. thought of this whole Christmas fling.
The more he thought, “I must stop this whole thing!”
“Why, for my whole career I’ve put up with it now!”
I MUST stop Christmas from coming!
… But how?”
Then he got an idea!
An awful idea!
THE SERGEANT MAJOR
GOT A WONDERFUL, AWFUL IDEA!
“I know just what to do!” He laughed through his teeth.
As he quickly denied every last request for leave.
And he chuckled, and he clucked, “This has always been my dream!”
“I’ll charge the entire unit under Article 15!”
“All I need are my charge sheets…”
The Sergeant Major looked around.
But since the S-1 was closed, there were none to be found.
He roared obscenely at this leave block perversion.
“I’ll get you Communists for this Christmas desertion!”
He got loaded,
On some old hooch from his locker.
Exempt from the alcohol policy,
As he had so many rockers.
Then the Sergeant Major rose,
And toward the base chapel he swaggered,
The source of the season,
That kept him most angered
All the windows were dark, quiet snowfall serene,
As he rearranged the animals from the nativity scene
Into poses grotesque and some downright obscene.
“This was stop number one,” the grouchy Sergeant Major hissed
And he stormed off toward the barracks clenching his fists.
He slithered and slunk, with a smile most unpleasant,
Throughout the whole barracks, and he took every present!
Tobacco! Care packages! All the grog and the rum!
Video games! iPhones! And all things considered fun!
The one speck of goodness
Left behind by that louse
Was a pinch of dip that was even too small for a mouse!
It was a quarter past dawn …
All the troops still a-snooze
When he packed up his truck,
And took one last pull on his booze.
He drove off with their presents! The tobacco! The wrappings!
The alcohol! The tinsel! Video games! The trappings!
Three thousand feet up! Up the side of Mount Moto,
He drove to the tip top to give it the heave-ho!
“I screwed them but good!” the Sergeant Major was humming.
“By now they’re finding out no Christmas is coming!”
“They’re just climbing out of the rack, I know just what they’ll do!”
“All Joes in the barracks with cry BOO-HOO!”
“That’s a noise,” grinned the Sergeant Major,
“That I simply must hear!”
So he paused. The Sergeant Major put a hand to his ear.
And he did hear a sound rising over the snow.
It started in low. Then it started to grow …
But the sound wasn’t sad!
Why, this sounded motivated!
It sounded so merry,
The Sergeant Major grew constipated!
He stared down at the barracks!
And through his blood shot eyes,
He saw a joyful scene
That made his blood pressure rise!
Every Troop down in Troop-ville, the tall and small,
Were falling into formation! For liberty call!
He hadn’t stopped Christmas from coming it came!
The CG granted them 96 hours of liberty just the same.
The Sergeant Major, feet ice cold in the snow,
Stood puzzling and puzzling: “How could it be so?”
Then his cell phone rang, what in tarnation?
It was the CO,
“Sergeant Major, why are you late for libo formation?”