* * * *
Luckily, I never really saw much combat. I was in it a few times - I don't know if I ever killed anyone and frankly I don't want to know. ... I worked in an orphanage for a while, and that I really liked. I really enjoyed the kids. But mostly I was in medical. One of the first days I was there, a chopper came and brought some wounded in. And I got this guy who was hurt really bad. ... Basically, is entire lower jaw was gone. Just, gone. He kept trying to tell me something, over and over. Obviously I couldn't understand him ... so I just sat there with him. I sat there with him until he died.
* * * *
A dear friend of mine served in Viet Nam. In the 15 years I've known him, he's rarely talked about anything he saw or did there other than getting wasted - an activity that is more than understandable in those circumstances if you ask me.
The other night we were talking about it for some reason, and he shared this story with me. It's haunted me ever since. My heart has ached for this young man who could not express his final concerns, and died in agony - alone and on the other side of the world. Alone except for my friend.
Forty years isn't too long ago to mourn a fallen fighter. God rest your soul, soldier.
5 days ago
1 comment:
Amen! And there will be a special place in Heaven for combat medics. Tell you friend, frist of all, thank you and welcome home, and then well done from an old tin can sailor.
I'll get wasted with him anytime, if he doesn't mind slumming with an old sailor.
And bless you for appreciating his sacrifice. You will have a special place in Heaven, too.
Looking up, I'll sure miss you guys.
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