And here's a touching video tribute to our veterans, courtesy of youtube.com website:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wOih0MHNmZU

May we never forget:

Far From Home

'Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone,
In a one bedroom house made of plaster and stone.
I had come down the chimney with presents to give,
And to see just who in this home did live.

As I looked all about, a strange sight I did see,
No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stocking by mantle, just boots filled with sand,
On the wall hung pictures of far distant lands.

With medals and badges, awards of all kinds,
A sober thought came through my mind.
For this house was different, it was dark and dreary,
I’d found the home of a soldier, once I could see clearly.

The soldier lay sleeping, silent, alone,
Curled up on the floor in this one bedroom home.
The face was so gentle, the room in such disorder,
Not how I pictured a United States Soldier.

Was this the hero of whom I’d just read,
Curled upon a poncho, the floor for a bed?
I realized the families that I was visiting this night,
Owed their lives to these soldiers who were willing to fight.

Soon ‘round the world the children would play,
And grown-ups would celebrate a bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedoms each month of the year,
Because of the soldiers, like the one lying here.

I couldn’t help wonder how many lie alone,
On a cold Christmas Eve, in a land far from home.
The very thought brought a tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees and started to cry.

The soldier awakened and I heard a rough voice,
"Santa, don’t cry, this life is my choice.
I fight for freedom, I don’t ask for more,
My life is my God, my Country, my Corps."

The soldier rolled over and drifted to sleep,
I couldn’t control it, I continued to weep.
I kept watch for hours, so silent and still,
And we both shivered from the cold night’s chill.

I didn’t want to leave, on that cold, dark night,
This Guardian of Honor, so willing to fight.
Then the soldier rolled over, and with a voice soft and pure,
Whispered, "Carry on Santa, it’s Christmas Day. All is secure."

One look at my watch and I knew he was right,
"Merry Christmas my friend, and May God Bless You This Night."

By Unknown Author

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The statue in the photograph below, created in bronze by Iraqi artist Khalid Alussy, depicts a soldier grieving over his fallen comrade and being comforted by a small Iraqi child. This statue was moved from Iraq to its permanent home at Fort Hood Texas in February 2004.

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Click here to read the Marine's poem. This poem honors ALL servicemen.

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IT'S THE SOLDIER
(Used by permission of the Old Huntsville Magazine.)

 When the country has been in need, it has always been the soldier!
   It's the soldier, not the newspaper, which has given us the freedom of the press.
   It's the soldier, not the poet, who has given us freedom of speech.
   It's the soldier, not the campus organizer, who has given us the freedom to demonstrate.
   It's the soldier who salutes the flag, and serves under the flag.
   It's the soldier whose coffin is draped with the flag, who allows the protester to burn the flag.
 Yes, it's always the soldier who is called upon to defend our way of life.

  

Roll of Honor, Page 1:

Roll of Honor, Page 2:

And these names have since been added: