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True story of an American soldier by Jade This can’t be happening to us! Are we going to die? Is it too late to become saved? Not knowing how to pray, I tried my best to answer Danny’s questions by reading out loud from a “Holy Joe” booklet I received from an Army chaplain, just days before. Amidst the gun fire, I read sentence after sentence, trying to find any information as to how someone could become “born again” or “saved.” Having received several gunshot wounds myself, I noticed to my dismay that my buddy had sustained a lethal gunshot wound to the abdomen area. Even though he had lost large amounts of blood, he was still trying his best to stay alive. At this point, I put the booklet down and tried to help him reposition his intestines back inside his abdominal cavity. However, we were unsuccessful due to his intestines being so slippery and confusingly tangled. Our degree of difficulty seemed to dampen his spirits and his ability to focus. With the Grim Reaper smiling down upon us and the enemy advancing closer each minute, I picked the booklet up and continued to read. Half way through the booklet, I found a section that ironically resembled the type of situation we were currently going through. It illustrated two soldiers surrounded by enemy soldiers who were hell bent on killing them both. One called upon Christ for forgiveness and the other did not. They both died, but the soldier who asked for forgiveness went to heaven and the other soldier went to hell. Even in the darkest hours and most hopeless times in our lives, God has given us a choice and is waiting patiently nearby for us to make the right decision to call upon Him for salvation.
As I reflected back to an earlier point during the week, I remembered walking toward the loading zone exit. Standing at the door was the Army chaplain handing out pamphlets titled, “Holy Joe,” as he usually does before we venture out on each mission. Each time in the past, I would pass him by, thinking to myself, “Who needs this Bible thumper anyway; why does he continually waste his time?” Well, today my instincts told me to go ahead and accept the material he was handing out. I headed out the door onto the loading zone, and climbed into the helicopter. Finding my usual spot didn’t take long, as I had been performing these missions for a long time now. Danny, my closest friend for the last two and half years, was sitting at my right side. Usually, combat personnel keep their friendship at a distance, mostly because they are afraid to get too close for fear of losing one another during combat actions. It is an extreme mental strain to lose a combat partner, let alone a friend. If you keep your relationship on a professional level, it tends to help you accept one another’s death, if or when the time comes. However, this was not the case with Danny and me. We became such close friends, that we basically considered each other a brother. Hearing the helicopter turbine start-up and feeling its propellers begin to rotate meant that it was time to leave. As we lifted off the ground and rose into the sky, I started slowly flipping through the pages of the religious handout the chaplain had given me. I noticed as I glanced at the pictures and text, it was telling some kind of religious story. “Why are you reading that junk?” Danny asked sarcastically. “You know of course, when we go out on missions, it’s our guns and our guts that keep us safe, and not some kind of God,” he remarked seriously. I just gave him a quick smirk and continued skimming through the pages, trying to make sense of what was being written. Before I could finish reading the material, we landed at our scheduled drop zone. Quickly, I stashed the religious pamphlet inside an outer pocket on my military backpack, while at the same time I started preparing myself and personal equipment for combat. Disembarking from the helicopter was fast and smooth. We hit the ground running and searched the surrounding area for a safe place to regroup. Once everyone was accounted for, we moved forward to our military objective, which was located deep in a mountainous jungle region. Travel was extremely slow due to the terrain and threat of guerilla freedom fighters in the area. During that particular time, there were five different civil wars occurring simultaneously in the region. The first day of travel however, was done at a rapid pace, in order to make up for some lost time. The first night we received only two hours of sleep and traveled the remaining portion of the night and most of the second day, to avoid one of the major civil wars that was raging. On our third day, intelligence (Intel) indicated there were reports of hostile troops in our area, and we would probably encounter some resistance. After the update from Intel, we upgraded our security levels and continued forward moving in a straight line, known in the Army as ‘Ranger Formation.’ Crossing along a wide valley, we moved along a mud-laden trail as a cold thick jungle rain soaked us to the bone. It is strange how the rain can be ice cold, even with the temperature hovering around 103º F. The chilly rain seemed to be the only relief available from the miserable jungle humidity and insects. I remember the sun started to fall behind the top of the hill, when the sound of machine gun fire echoed through the valley. It took only a split second to realize that we were under direct enemy fire. ”Ambush!” I yelled at the top of my lungs. “Get Down!” screamed another. The smell of gun powder, screams of the wounded, and the silence of the dead filled the air. Explosions and gunfire erupted from all directions, forcing us to take cover wherever we could. We returned lethal fire and tried our best to take control of the situation, but we were severely outnumbered. There were only twelve of us, and it was estimated that we were outnumbered by at least three to one. I was beginning to get very upset and along with Danny, we began to counterattack the fighters to our north side. While other members of the team split up in groups of two and began to counterattack as well. I moved forward a short distance, while Danny provided protective cover. In turn, I covered him as he moved. This went on for several minutes as we moved closer to our attackers. We ended up close enough to see the expressions of hate on their faces, and the hunger for freedom in their eyes. Better training and mental discipline seemed to play an important role in helping us perform more efficiently than those we were attacking. However, just when we thought the situation was getting better, everything went terribly wrong. Tony, our team member who was wearing and was responsible for the radio, was shot repeatedly in the back, and once in the back of the head while moving for cover, killing him instantly before he fell to the ground. It was a terribly traumatic sight, seeing his head explode in a cloud of blood. Everything was happening so fast, and we did not have time to absorb his loss, before Jacob, our navigation man, was killed by a well placed hand grenade. At this point it seemed as though hell had opened its doors and let loose all of its demons upon us. I looked behind me to verify if Danny was still following along. I gestured to him through the use of hand signals, to stay close and follow me. I decided it was time to rally with the remaining group and try to find a hole in the perimeter. It was time to abort the mission and leave before we all lost our lives. Again, Danny and I ran into strong resistance and were forced to aggress and resist. This time the resistance seemed to be much stronger than the original attack. Now, we really became concerned as to how we were going to make it out in one piece. We decided to move forward about one hundred yards, to a rugged hill top, where we would have a better chance of defending ourselves. Traversing the slick, muddy hill was an extreme challenge. While flat on the ground, we ‘low-crawled’ our way up the hill to the base of a fallen tree. Climbing the hill was hard dirty work. The hill was so slippery, we used roots as foot and hand holds. We noticed the sound of gunfire, in our area, had ceased. Obviously, the rebels had lost sight of us, so we thought. The last obstacle on our way to the hilltop was a large diameter tree that had fallen years ago. This old tree would provide excellent cover and perhaps allow us to utilize it as a safe haven so we could remain there until nightfall. In order to get to the top, we needed to climb over the trunk before being spotted by the troops below. Desperate and extremely fatigued we needed a safe place to hide, and we needed it quick. We decided that on the count of three, we would climb over the trunk together, instead of each climbing one at a time. Looking at each other and using facial expressions, we wished each other good luck. Using my fingers, I counted, “One…Two…Three.” After the third count we stood up, threw our backpacks over the tree trunk and started climbing in hopes of reaching the other side. Once, on top of the tree, we were bombarded with gunfire that pierced our bodies full of holes. The initial pain felt as though someone had poked my body with sharp sticks. We soon realized that the bullets had hit us, even before we heard the sound of gunfire. Severely injured and in extreme pain, I could hear Danny screaming, even above my own cries of suffering. The pain transitioned from a sharp poking feeling to an unbearable burning sensation, which even produced smoke that emitted from the wounds with a slight odor of burning flesh. Finding it difficult to breathe, I soon discovered that a bullet had broken some ribs and collapsed one of my lungs. I reached for my thick bandage, known as a battle dressing, and sized up which wound I would try to patch up. Part of each soldier’s combat gear included one battle dressing. However, two dressings are usually needed to stop the bleeding from a gunshot wound. One is needed for the entrance wound where the bullet entered, and one dressing is needed for the wound where the bullet exits. As I was tying up my dressing, I heard Danny ask, “My bandage is too small! What do I do now?” Forgetting my own injuries, I crawled over to Danny and asked him, “What do you mean your bandage is too small?” I tried to troubleshoot his problem in my mind. “My stomach is hanging out!” Danny painfully replied. As I approached, I could see that he was bleeding profusely from a gaping hole that made the 5” X 7” bandage seem like a small household band-aid. At this point we were more concerned with our wounds than we were with our aggressors being close by. Danny started to cry and repeatedly murmured, “I want to go home…now!” I was very concerned with how bad his injuries were, so I lifted up his shirt, and to my horror his intestines fell out onto the ground. “It’s bad, isn’t it?” he asked. I looked at him and gave a concerned reply, “It doesn’t look good…Danny.” Upon my remark he started crying softly and quietly. The reality of the situation began to hit us. We were in a combat zone and far from medical help. We were a long way from home and might not return alive. Slippery and slimy, Danny’s intestines were hard to handle. My main concern was to place them back where they belonged, and I needed to stop his bleeding so we could move out when darkness fell. As time went by, I began to have even more difficulty breathing, and my wounds were throbbing violently. While we attempted to apply first aid, we noticed the relentless shooting in the distance became less and less as time went by. This meant either the rest of our team was dead or everyone had run out of ammunition. About every ten minutes or so, our attackers would shoot at the tree trunk we were behind, as if it were a shooting gallery. Each time after they quit shooting, one of them would holler at us in broken English. “It would be in your best interest to surrender to us…NOW! We will provide you with the BEST medical attention available. We will also feed and water you. We know you’re hurt, we just want to help you!” We both knew it was a trick. If we surrendered, they would most likely torture and kill us. With surrender not being an option, we decided to wait until dark. Darkness would be our best bet for sneaking past our opposition. We just needed to do our best to hang on until then. Danny started complaining that he was dizzy and exhausted. I told him to hang on and that everything was going to be okay. Looking away, so he could not see me cry, I noticed on the wet and muddy ground, the “Holy Joe” pamphlet I was reading a few days ago. I picked it up and Danny questioned, “Is that the religious booklet from earlier?” “Yes, it is,” I replied. He went on asking me if God would allow someone like him in Heaven. “Is it too late to become a Christian?” Not knowing any of the answers he was asking, I opened the booklet and searched its contents for answers. A verse on one of the pages stood out, “For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: not of works, lest any man should boast” (Eph. 2:8-9). One illustrated section appeared to resemble our situation and showed two soldiers dying and their spirits rising from their bodies to be judged by God. I looked at Danny, and he gave me this lifeless little smile and asked weakly, “What should we do?” I told him, the booklet stated, if we prayed for God to forgive us our sins, He would forgive us and allow us a place in Heaven. Gunfire started to erupt around us, which reminded me instantly of where we were. Danny started to shake; his body was going into severe shock. He just stared as though he could see right through me. Blood started flowing from his nose and mouth, which was a sign his body was beginning to shut down and death was sure to follow. I openly pleaded, “God, please don’t let Danny die. Just give us a few more hours. That’s all we need.” Danny started coughing and choking on blood lodged in his throat. His breathing had become extremely resistant. I put my right hand on him and said, “I’m sorry, Danny…I’m sorry!” Crying and upset, I started to recite the salvation prayer located in the back of the “Holy Joe” booklet, “Dear God, I am a sinner and I need forgiveness. I believe that Jesus Christ shed His precious blood and died for my sin. I am willing to turn from sin. I now invite Christ to come into my heart and life as my personal Saviour.” Before I could finish my prayer, I heard Danny breathe his last breath. My emotions overcame me as I wept over the loss of my closest friend, yet I did not feel alone. Even in my sadness, I felt a comforting peace that I had never experienced before. I started to regain my focus and was no longer afraid of dying. I felt as though there was someone right beside me, coaxing me on, motivating me to survive, and encouraging me to never give up. The sun was now well behind the hill, and it was almost dark. My hunger was triggered by the smell of food cooking. I realized that the enemy troops below were fixing their evening supper. This meant they had to let their guard down in order to eat. Half of them would probably remain on guard, while the other half would take time to eat and relax. This was the chance I had been waiting for. Driven by an unseen presence and the courage that filled me earlier, I was ready to make my escape. Danny looked as though he was asleep and at peace. Tearfully, I told my best friend, “Goodbye.” I removed his dog tags and placed them in my pocket. I then put the bloodstained “Holy Joe” booklet in Danny’s hands and regretfully left him behind. The hardest thing for me to do was to leave Danny, but the severity of my physical condition would not allow me to carry him. This has haunted me daily for years now, and probably always will. His family buried a casket without his body inside, and has never received his remains. To this day, I am unsure whether or not Danny had time to make amends with God. I hope he did and look forward to seeing him again someday. As I left our temporary shelter, about fifteen feet away, I noticed a small overgrown grave, with two sticks tied together that formed a makeshift cross. At that moment, the cross seemed to reinforce my new-found belief that the Lord was truly guiding me. While in the Army, night fighting was one of my specialties. I felt at home in the dark, more at ease and secure than most. The darkness of the night and my skills of stealth allowed me to sneak past the enemy undetected. I traveled a short distance to one of the emergency pick-up points that were prearranged earlier in the week. By the time I reached my destination, I was physically and mentally drained and in serious need of medical attention. My wounds had clotted for the most part, but the pain in my chest felt as though I was being crushed by an elephant. The recovery team spotted me on the ground and proceeded to land. I was filled with joy and relief as two rescuers quickly transported me aboard the helicopter. As we took off leaving enemy territory, I can remember the protective sounds of the chopper’s machine guns firing non-stop, in a defensive manner, at militants below. The combat medic and door gunner calmed me by stating that I was safe and everything was going to be alright. The mission officer came back and asked me if there were other survivors. All I could do was shake my head and cry. Before I lost consciousness a medic injected me with morphine and placed a breathing tube down my throat. I awoke several hours later and saw a few nurses and officers standing around my bedside. I was still in a drug-induced daze, but I was grateful to be alive. Out of the twelve man team, I was the lone survivor, saved by the hand of God. Today my relationship with the Lord continues to grow. Each and every day is special and very important to me. With just the thought of that little wooden cross, my mind drifts back to the day I lost my friend and the time I found my Lord and Saviour. Those days in the jungle, forced me to realize that life is too short to be taken for granted. Before I became a Christian, I blamed God each and every time something went wrong. However, when something good happened in my life, I never gave Him the credit. Without God in our lives we are truly nothing. He not only guided me through the treacherous jungle battlefield, but He also continues to guide me through my everyday battles, in life. Do not wait until you are faced with drastic circumstances, as I did, before you turn your life over to God and know…true freedom.
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