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Gary Barlow in Afganistan


Lampwick
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Full marks to Gary Barlow for making the effort, him and Katherine Jenkins are the only 2 who seem prepared to visit the troops.

 

I Was saying this earlier where are all the overpaid loud mouth celebrities we have shoved down our throats all the time? they all have their high opinions on everything but we never see any of them giving anything back :no:

 

I am aware that Jim Davison goes over regularly but don't know of any others maybe you can all enlighten me :rolleyes:

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I Was saying this earlier where are all the overpaid loud mouth celebrities we have shoved down our throats all the time? they all have their high opinions on everything but we never see any of them giving anything back :no:

 

I am aware that Jim Davison goes over regularly but don't know of any others maybe you can all enlighten me :rolleyes:

Daniel Craig, David Beckham and Cheryl Cole have all visited camp bastion. Katherine Jenkins is the official forces sweetheart so she probably visits troops more than anyone. The best thing about Jim Davidson was all the page 3 girls he brought along.

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Well done Gary, good lad.

I was in Hospital in Shaibah in Basra in 2006 and David Cameron and William Hague were doing the rounds, Cameron asked if he could talk to me and I refused. Should have seen the look on his face.

 

I was in Basra Palace 2006-2007 mate,flown to Shaibah a few times as well ... maybe we met each other :good:

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Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone

In a one bedroom house made of plaster & stone.

 

I had come down the chimney with presents to give

And to see just who in this home did live.

 

I looked all about a strange sight I did see,

No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.

 

No stocking by the fire, just boots filled with sand,

On the wall hung pictures of far distant lands.

 

With medals and badges, awards of all kind

A sober thought came through my mind.

 

For this house was different, so dark and dreary,

I knew I had found the home of a soldier, once I could see clearly.

 

I heard stories about them, I had to see more

So I walked down the hall and pushed open the door.

 

And there he lay sleeping silent alone,

Curled up on the floor in his one bedroom home.

 

His face so gentle, his room in such disorder,

Not how I pictured a young British soldier.

 

Was this the hero of whom I’d just read?

Curled up in his poncho, a floor for his bed?

 

His head was clean shaven, his weathered face tan,

I soon understood this was more then a man.

 

For I realised the families that I saw that night

Owed their lives to these men who were willing to fight.

 

Soon ‘round the world, the children would play,

And grownups would celebrate on a bright Christmas day.

 

They all enjoyed freedom each month of the day,

Because of soldiers like this one lying here.

 

I couldn’t help wonder how many lay alone

On a cold Christmas Eve in a land far from home.

 

Just the very thought brought a tear to my eye,

I dropped to my knees and started to cry.

 

The solder awakened and I heard a rough voice,

“Santa don’t cry, this life is my choice;

 

I fight for our freedom, i ask for no more,

My life is my God, my country, my corps

 

With that he rolled over and drifted off into sleep,

I couldn’t control it, I continued to weep.

 

I watched him for hours, so silent and still,

I noticed he shivered from the cold night’s chill.

 

So I took off my jacket, the one made of red,

And I covered this Soldier from his toes to his head.

 

And I put on his T-shirt of gray and black,

With a crown and an Army patch embroidered on back.

 

And although it barely fit me, I began to swell with pride,

And for a shining moment, I was proud British Army deep inside.

 

I didn’t want to leave him on that cold dark night,

This guardian of honor so willing to fight.

 

Then the soldier rolled over, whispered with a voice so clean and pure,

“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 to all a good night!

 

 

 

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Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone

In a one bedroom house made of plaster & stone.

 

I had come down the chimney with presents to give

And to see just who in this home did live.

 

I looked all about a strange sight I did see,

No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.

 

No stocking by the fire, just boots filled with sand,

On the wall hung pictures of far distant lands.

 

With medals and badges, awards of all kind

A sober thought came through my mind.

 

For this house was different, so dark and dreary,

I knew I had found the home of a soldier, once I could see clearly.

 

I heard stories about them, I had to see more

So I walked down the hall and pushed open the door.

 

And there he lay sleeping silent alone,

Curled up on the floor in his one bedroom home.

 

His face so gentle, his room in such disorder,

Not how I pictured a young British soldier.

 

Was this the hero of whom I’d just read?

Curled up in his poncho, a floor for his bed?

 

His head was clean shaven, his weathered face tan,

I soon understood this was more then a man.

 

For I realised the families that I saw that night

Owed their lives to these men who were willing to fight.

 

Soon ‘round the world, the children would play,

And grownups would celebrate on a bright Christmas day.

 

They all enjoyed freedom each month of the day,

Because of soldiers like this one lying here.

 

I couldn’t help wonder how many lay alone

On a cold Christmas Eve in a land far from home.

 

Just the very thought brought a tear to my eye,

I dropped to my knees and started to cry.

 

The solder awakened and I heard a rough voice,

“Santa don’t cry, this life is my choice;

 

I fight for our freedom, i ask for no more,

My life is my God, my country, my corps

 

With that he rolled over and drifted off into sleep,

I couldn’t control it, I continued to weep.

 

I watched him for hours, so silent and still,

I noticed he shivered from the cold night’s chill.

 

So I took off my jacket, the one made of red,

And I covered this Soldier from his toes to his head.

 

And I put on his T-shirt of gray and black,

With a crown and an Army patch embroidered on back.

 

And although it barely fit me, I began to swell with pride,

And for a shining moment, I was proud British Army deep inside.

 

I didn’t want to leave him on that cold dark night,

This guardian of honor so willing to fight.

 

Then the soldier rolled over, whispered with a voice so clean and pure,

“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 to all a good night!

 

 

 

 

Yeah mate, memories... Christmas 2006 OP Telic 9 :rolleyes:

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I don't usually watch programmes like this but pleased I did. He was a credit to us all. Very touching moment at the end when he did the poppy wreath to the ones we have lost.

 

 

i couldnt have put it better myself, i dont usually watch these things and ive always thought he was a bit of a tool but iut was a cracking program. very suprising how good it was and as you say so touching at the end

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