I have wracked my brain. My memories of military family members are almost non-existent in my childhood. I was born six months before the end of World War II. My earthly father, who abandoned us before I was two, had not been in the military even during the War because 1) he was was in his forties when America entered the War, and 2) he had been in federal prison for counterfeiting. They weren't so desperate as to draft criminals in those days. One of Mama's brothers, Uncle Murray, was in the Army. He was, my brother Jim tells me, "a personal body guard for General Patton...also a dead shot." (I think that means a very good shot.) I never had many interactions with Uncle Murray. I remember him as mostly very quiet and not at all willing to talk about the War or military life.
Then Mama married Daddy (see The Wedding, May) when I was ten years old. He was a Veteran, having served in the Army as a "foot soldier" in Italy during the war. He had been to Venice and beyond. He had a lot of war stories, though he didn't talk about it all the time.
I asked him if he saw any dead people in the War, and he nodded gravely. "We kinda got used to that. After battles there would be so many dead bodies, sometimes soldiers would sit down on a dead enemy and eat dinner..."
He said once he accidentally pasted a stamp on a letter to home upside down, and got reprimanded for it. He found out spys did that on purpose as a code, passing on information to the enemy.
He told about a time when he was on guard duty, and was not to allow anyone to enter unless they said the password. Well, the Major returned to the compound drunk late at night and couldn't remember the password. Daddy almost shot him, even though he knew it was the major, before the foggy old man finally remembered the password. (I couldn't imagine my Daddy actually shooting someone.)
Of all the routines in military life that Daddy thought highly of, marching was his favorite. I am not sure why he liked it. I think it made him feel like a real part of the group, as everyone had to stay in step and look sharp. He translated that to his later life; when he became Sunday School Superintendent in the Earlimart church, he used to have the whole church, children and adults, march around the inside of the building to place their offering in the pan. He would lead the march, carrying the flag. (I'm smiling, wondering how that would go over in this day and age, in most any church.)
Countless times I've heard my Daddy say joining the military would make a man out of a boy. As they grew up, his boys all did join the military. Eugene and Jim were in the Navy; Ray and Richard were in the Army. I don't think Eugene was ever stationed overseas. Jim spent some time in Japan. Ray was in Germany. Richard was my only brother to be in the military during a war. He was in Viet Nam. Regretfully, since I lived away from home (mostly in Alaska) during his tour of duty, I didn't have conversations with him either by letter or in person, until long after he had returned home and moved to Arkansas, at which time he didn't talk to me about it.
Fast forward to the present time... I now know how it feels to have children in the military, and in harm's way. My husband Jack has one son, Steven, who gave the Army fifteen years and did several tours of duty in Iraq and Afghanistan. My son Jon, in the Alaska Air National Guard is presently in Afghanistan. He is scheduled to come home early in September. I know his wife Evensong and their large family (six children ages ten and under) will be delighted to see him. I probably won't see him when he returns, but I will be delighted, too.
People in the military face the possibility of death constantly. If you stop and think about it, though, so do I. So do you. Death is not just a possibility. It is a sure thing. It is an appointment that we have no other choice than to keep. We do have a choice about being ready to die.
Jesus said "Don't worry..." more often than anything else. I could be the World's Worst Worry Wart. But whatever happens, I know that God, in His infinite wisdom, works everything "for good to them that love Him, according to His purpose." It's all about Him...
When the enemy of our souls whispers fearing thoughts to my mind, I turn my eyes upon the Lord Jesus, who suffered more than we can imagine to cover the sins of mankind, and freely forgives us and allows us to live in HIS righteousness. If we believe and trust Him, no matter what happens to us down here, some day we will see Him face to face.
I'm looking forward to that day. Are you?
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