The Night They Gunned Down Santa Claus
by Chet Lynn � � � � � There's� strange things done
'neath the Vietnamese sun
� � � � � � but the thing that locked my jaws
�
� � � � � was the� night 'neath the moon, the third platoon
� � � � � �
gunned down Santa Claus.
� � � � � � It started off right just another
night,
� � � � � � you had to spend in the dirt,,
� � � � � � security was
out., .360 about
� � � � � � with fifty percent alert.
� � � � � � We
had 81s and naval guns our tanks were track to track,
� � � � � � an ontos or
so an arty FO with barrages back to back.
� � � � � � I froze where I
stood 'cause out of the wood
� � � � � � eight horses came charging
along,
� � � � � � this may sound scary� those mustangs� were hairy,
� � �
� � � "Oh no," I moaned," mounted Viet Cong."
� � � � � � They were
coming our way pulling what looked like a sleigh
� � � � � � you never knew
what they'd use,
� � � � � � our flares were tripped our SIDs had
flipped
� � � � � � Our tipsy blew a fuse.
� � � � � � We let them
close then we yelled "who goes"
� � � � � � like they do in the movie
show,
� � � � � � the answer we got, believe it or not,
� � � � � � was a
hearty," Ho Ho Ho."
� � � � � � Now these troops of mine have seen some
time
� � � � � � they've done some things back-assward,,
� � � � � � they
may be thick but I'll tell you a trick
� � � � � � they knew that wasn't the
password.,
� � � � � � The nineties roared the 81's soared,
� � � � �
� the naval guns raised hell.,
� � � � � � a bright red flare flew through
the air,
� � � � � � as we fired our FPL.
� � � � � � I'll grant him
guts but that man was nuts
� � � � � � or I'm a� no good liar.,
� � � � �
� he dropped like a stone in our killing zone
� � � � � � I passed the word,
"cease fire".
� � � � � � I went out and took a real good look.,
� � �
� � � my memory started to race,,
� � � � � � my mind plays games when It
comes to names
� � � � � � but I never forget a face.,
� � � � � � He
was dressed in red and he looked well fed
� � � � � � older than most I'd
seen,
� � � � � � he looked right weird with that long white beard
� � � �
� � and stumps where his legs had been.
� � � � � � He hadn't quite died
when I reached his side
� � � � � � but the end was clearly in sight,
� �
� � � � I knelt down low and he said real slow,,
� � � � � � "Merry
Christmas.. and to all,. a good night'
� � � � � � Now we should have
known our cools were blown
� � � � � � when that light in the East we
seen
� � � � � � I thought it was flares and it had to be theirs
� � � � �
� or the damned things would have been green,,
� � � � � � I picked up
the hook with a voice that shook
� � � � � � said "gimme the Six and
quick,
� � � � � � Colonel."� I said, " hang on to your head.,
� � � � � �
we just greased old St. Nick".
� � � � � � Now the old mans cool.,� He's
nobody's fool,
� � � � � � right off he knew the word.,
� � � � � � if
This got out, there'd be no doubt,
� � � � � � he wouldn't be making his
bird.
� � � � � � "Just get him up here and we'll play it by ear
� � �
� � � make sure he's got a tag,
� � � � � � dismantle the sleigh, drive those
reindeer� away
� � � � � � and bury that God damned bag".
� � � � � �
Now by and by the kiddies may cry
� � � � � � 'cause nothings under the
tree.,
� � � � � � but the word came back from FMFPac
� � � � � � that
Santa had gone VC.
� � � � � � There's strange things done 'neath� the
Vietnamese sun
� � � � � � but the time that locked my jaws,
� � � � � �
was the night neath the moon, 'When the� third platoon
� � � � � � gunned
down Santa Claus.
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