My Dog at My Feet

Somehow my post of October 13th disappeared, so this is a re-post of that post.  

 Lord, I'm hurting right now.  

My loyal and faithful friend is gone.

I knew it was the right thing to do,

I didn't want to see him suffer so.

But he's at peace now.

He was always there for me, at my feet, trotting along.

 But now I am alone.

 My dog of sixteen years is no longer with me, Lord. 

 Please keep him safe for me,

And let him know I miss him.

In fond memory of Corkie, a faithful and loyal friend.

1996 - 2012

    

The Veteran in My Life: part two

        Uncle Charlie continues to tell of how he and his crew returned and found the Hideout completely empty, after closing Camp Evans.  No one was there and everything - classified map, radios, bunkers - everything was cleared out. Uncle Charlie found a note weighted down by a rock on a "crude table hewn from a log".   It read: " 'Mr. M.----, I hope you find this. These are your orders for you and your crew to report to your next unit.' " We stood in shock. Our unit had left Viet Nam and returned to the United States without letting us know. We felt rejected.
        I told the crew to go to their quarters and gather their belonging. All was still in place as we had left it eight days earlier. We loaded everything in the aircraft and headed for our next assignment.  I reported to the new unit for all of us. When I reported, the operations officer stated, "Sure, we can use another pilot." I replied, "Well, I brought my own copilot, crew chief and door gunner, too." He was surprised. "Anything else I need to know?" he asked. I responded in the affirmative, "Well, I brought my own Huey. Do you want it?" He was rather taken back at that.

        We settled into the new unit. About three weeks later, the unit administrator posted an order stating that anyone with less than ninety days remaining on his tour would be sent back to the United States.  I had ninety-two days to go. So I missed my chance to return to the US by two days. But three days later, while walking past the same office, a voice rang out, "Hey, aren't you M-----? Your name is on the list to go home." I informed him that I had missed it by two days.  But he enlightened me that the order had just been amended and redated by three days. It was still a ninety-day order, but now I had only eighty-nine days to go. I made the list by one day. I was going home! I only had two hours to get ready to catch a flight to Da Nang on a CH-47.

        My best memory was that 1 Thessalonians 5:18 never failed me. All eyes were now pressed to the small windows until we were out of sight of the mainland. How ironic that we wanted to get a last glimpse  . . . to remember the war . . . that we do desperately wanted to forget.
       The Viet Nam war was never officially declared. It was the war . . . that wasn't. For those of us who were there, the war that wasn't, still lives within us. Little do we realize how the war that wasn't, is firmly etched in our souls. In a since, the future is not ours.  It belongs to the war that wasn't.  The war that wasn't, has a mysterious effect on every decision we make. For those of us who participated, the war . . . that wasn't . . . now is.  We are Viet Nam veterans. What do others see when they look at us?

 

"It was a relatively easy task to identify those who were wounded in Viet Nam . . . .

their uniforms are adorned with Purple Hearts.

It is a relatively easy task to identify those who were POWs in Viet Nam . . . . 

their names are public record.

It is a relatively easy task to identify those who died in Viet Nam . . . .

their names are engrave on The Wall.

It is a relatively east task to identify those who are still missing in action . . . .

their loved ones still seek them.

These are the casualties of the war . . . that wasn't. But what of the ongoing casualties of the war . . . that now is?

          Yes, it is fairly easy to distinguish those casualties of the war that wasn't. But it is more difficult to determine the casualties of the war . . .that now is. For those of the war that wasn't, it was an external matter. But for those of the war that now is, it is internal. The war that wasn't, can be measured in months and weeks. But the war that is, cannot be measured. The casualties of the war that is, continue to be wounded and dying.

         Are you a present day casualty of this internal war that now is? Do you continue to be wounded and held prisoner by what you experienced over there? Is your happiness and joy short term?

But you do not have to be a POW to what you have experienced. God is the Author of lasting joy, and His ways are time-tested and true. The counterfeits of drugs and alcohol may offer systematic relief of anger, depression and low self-esteem. But lasting peace and joy can only be experienced through a relationship with Jesus Christ.

         It is futile to approach God on our terms. A basic principle of sin is attempting to run our own life instead of choosing God's way. Choosing our own way actually separates us from God and creates a barrier. Consider these verses from the of Romans in the Bible.

Romans 3:23, "All have sinner and fall short of the glory of God."
Romans 6:23, "The wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord."
Romans 10:9, "If you confess with your month that Jesus is Lord, and believe in your heart that God raised   Him from the dead, you will be saved."
Romans 10:11, "Whoever believes in Him will not be disappointed."
This verse promises that if you approach God on his terms, you will not be disappointed. You will discover true peace and joy.
Your mission in Viet Nam was to fight to preserve peace and liberty. You served your county well. You did your best in the war . . . that wasn't. But you have not completed the mission until you experience this peace yourself. Your duty is to complete the mission . . . and win . . . the war that is.

Thank you Veterans, for all the hard work you have endured on my behalf, I sincerely mean it!

Please Note: No part of these two posts is to be used in any way without permission from the author,

Viet Nam pictures included.

The Veteran in My Life: part one

Mom's brother, Charlie, is a Viet Nam helicopter pilot veteran.  He and my other Uncle, Richard, are the only two veterans I know personally.  Uncle Charlie wrote a paper about his time in Viet Nam and with it being Veteran's Day weekend, I thought it fitting to share some of it:

"I memorized 1 Thessalonians 5:18. The verse was quite simple, "In everything give thanks, for this in the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you." Little did I realize how much I would lean on this verse in months to come.

"Sometimes I fell asleep while the other pilot was flying, but twice I fell asleep while at the controls.  Once while at the controls, I fell asleep and the aircraft went into a steep left spiral and the nose tucked. I woke up and regained control of the aircraft. I glanced a the other pilot to see why he hadn't taken control. He was asleep. He never knew what happened. Sometimes the door gunner or crew chief would fire one of the M-60 machine guns just the keep us awake. 

 "There was no way to prepare for the realities of battle. During my first fire fight, the instrument panel became a blur. I couldn't focus. My eyelids were fluttering uncontrollably due to the tremendous shock waves from the projectiles passing just outside my door.  1 Thessalonians 5:18 came to my mind. I found strength in my special verse. 

". . . .flying down a riverbed, I sensed that I had flown into something. I had felt the impact, but I did not know what had happened.  When we landed to refuel, we found a small tree hanging on the right skid.

"War is always bad, but there are times when things get worse than bad."  He goes on to tell about a mission where he had to rescue some soldiers immediately, however, a dying Viet Cong soldier was laying in the way:  "He was in the only area to touch down, and I straddled him with the skids." The ground commander went to Uncle Charlie's side of the chopper and ". . . motioned for the other four to get on board.  As the others ran for the aircraft, a Viet Cong stood up on the far side of the crater. He took aim at me with his AK-47. The ground commander saw him and took aim with his converted M-79 Grenade Launcher. The M-79 barrel was sawed off to 5 inches, and the stock was fashioned into a pistol grip. The grenade hit the Viet Cong in the chest . . . "

One of Uncle Charlie's missions was to rescue a Special Forces soldier who was "pinned down on a mountaintop."  Uncle Charlie was able to locate the exact spot where the soldier was, due to his mirror signal reflection.  A captain was in the helicopter with Uncle Charlie and this happened to be his first mission, which made the captain quite nervous.  "He instructed me to light a cigarette and give it to him.  I replied that I was a pilot fully capable of flying the aircraft; he could light his own cigarette if he so desired. He refused and ordered me to light it again, I again refused. At this point he just let go the controls and grabbed his cigarette. I took control of the aircraft. He attempted to put the cigarette in his month, but missed. He was very nervous by this time. On his second attempt, he stuck the cigarette in his nose. The Huey was vibrating quite a bit, and he had difficulty finding his mouth. He was very frustrated at this point. He finally lit it and quieted down considerably. But I wasn't about to let him have the aircraft controls back."

"On the eighth day at Camp Evans, the Colonel and Commander Sergeant Major exited the command bunker and walked to the flagpole. There were now only six of us Americans at Camp Evans. I saw that the Command Sergeant Major had a tape recorder and was preparing for some sort of ceremony. Not knowing what what about to happen, I gathered my crew next to the aircraft. We were about fifty feet from the flagpole. When he began to play the Star Spangled Banner, the Colonel lowered the Stars and Stripes. The two of them furled the flag and walked over to the helicopter.  The commander said, "Let's go Mac." No one had ever called me "Mac", but I assumed he was referring to me. None of the six of us had dry eyes. It was an extreme emotional event; we had just closed Camp Evans."

To be continued. 

We, the People

The sun is shining and it's a beautiful day to get out and fulfill our duty as free, American citizens.

Time Off

Mom, dad and I decided we needed some time off after so many deaths this year. So last month we packed our bags and headed to southern Ohio and Kentucky.  Stops along the way included: Georgetown, OH (would LOVE to live there sometime!) where we drove by U.S. Grant's childhood school house and childhood home; Ripley, OH, where we looked around in an antique store that was in an old piano factory building. We also watched a little boy chase his older brother who was chasing their little white puppy.  We got to see inside a private house that was right by the Ohio river (which was the highlight of the vacation for me).  From there, we went to Maysville, KY and got stuck driving around in squares due to all the one way streets. Lexington, KY was our next destination where we drove past Mary Todd Lincoln's childhood home, and visited the Lexington cemetery.

Look at that porch!

Old homes.  Swoon. (Yes, I swoon over old buildings.)

Dad and mom with the wonderful couple who took us on a tour of their home. (Love the exterior color scheme!)

Lexington, KY cemetary

This tree is very large!  It is estimated to have been around since the signing of the 

United States Constitution!

I was walking around and saw something I'd never seen before: Confederate flags instead of the normal American flags. 

 I walked over for a closer look.  The last names read Morgan; I wondered if they were any relation to the famous John Morgan, leader of Morgan's Raiders.  I looked at the stones behind the first ones and guess who I found . . .

The man himself.

Mom, dad and I moved on to another section of the cemetery.  There were over one thousand of these white markers.

Cemeteries can give a person many mixed emotions.  That day, mine were a combination of silence, gratitude, thankfulness, and sorrow.