Rockets split the night air. Shrapnel pitted the ground around us, sending up little sprays of dirt. Jim, my partner on patrol, and I both dived into the nearest bunker. I had been through several attacks in Vietnam, each of which was frightening, but this time it was different. In only two weeks I would be going home to my family and to peace. We all feared we might get hit just before we were due to leave for home. We had seen men killed the day before they were to leave, and our fear had grown into a kind of superstition.
That night in the bunker I began really to think about God. I had received a letter from my wife a few days before in which she told me that she had been going to the Seventh-day Adventist church and had been praying for me. I was not a Christian, but I had some vague notion that there was a divine Creator. My wife had sent me Bible studies, which I had studied carefully.
Now I thought about my wife’s many prayers for me. “Jim,” I asked, “do you believe in God?”
“Yes, I do!” he replied. It helped to talk about our fear. We knew little about God, but both Jim and I were reaching out to Him. We prayed together as best we knew how.
When the all-clear signal sounded, we crawled out of the bunker and inspected the damage. It was a relief to get off duty and go back to the barracks, but I found it hard to sleep. I kept thinking about going home. I thought about God. I thought about my wife’s prayers, and the belief grew in me that they were my protection.
The next few days were quiet. Then, the night before I was to leave the base, everything broke loose again. I was riding patrol with Jim, taking it easy and saying goodbye to some of the people who worked with me. We had just rounded a curve when the side of the jeep on which I was sitting was suddenly stitched with bullets from a submachine gun. It was an ambush. Jim and I leaped out and crouched behind the jeep, trying to see if we could tell where the gunfire had come from.
We waited 15 minutes, but nothing else happened. Cautiously we began to investigate, trying to determine where the enemy had been hiding. Finding nothing, we went back to the jeep and began checking it over. On the passenger’s side the jeep was like a sieve.
Jim and I looked at each other in astonishment. “Can you explain why neither of us was hit?” I finally asked. “You told me a couple of weeks ago that your wife was praying for your safety. I suspect that the good Lord has answered her prayers. You should have been killed.” Back at the barracks I tried to get some rest. However, I kept wondering why God would save me. I was an alcoholic, smoked three packs of cigarettes a day, and was profane in the extreme. Of what possible use could I be to Him?
I awoke to a beautiful day. I was leaving for another base. My luggage packed; I was more than ready to go. I reached the terminal around twelve-thirty, the time scheduled for my flight. Checking in with the man behind the counter, I said, “My flight is a C-130 departing at one o’clock. Is everything going as planned?”
I began to shake. I sat down and tried to calm myself. Another close call!
“Sorry, bud, but your flight left about an hour ago,” he replied.
“Left! But it wasn’t due to leave for another half hour. How come?”
“No known reason,” he said matter-of-factly. About this time, I definitely lost my composure.
“Look, buddy, I’m supposed to leave this place today. I was supposed to be on that plane. I don’t care if I have to hijack a plane, I’m going to get out of here. I hope you and everyone else around here understand that.”
He glanced up from his paperwork and smiled. “Sure, I understand. Well, you’re in luck today, because we have another plane leaving in about an hour, and you’ll be able to go on that one.”
After waiting about 15 minutes, I saw a man hurry up to the desk with terrifying news. “That C-130 has just crashed in the high country!” he shouted to the clerk behind the desk.
“Any survivors?” asked the worried clerk.
“No survivors. Everyone on board was killed.”
I jumped up from my seat with my heart thumping in my chest. I ran up to the desk. “Was that the plane that left early, before its normal departure time?”
“Yes. Hey, buddy, you look pretty agitated.”
“I was supposed to be on that flight. I came early to catch it, but I still missed it,” I said.
Another close call!
I began to shake. I sat down and tried to calm myself. Another close call! I had believed in luck and chance before this, but now my thoughts turned to God. He must be saving me for something. But why me?
When it was time to board the plane, I had new worries. The enemy often tried to shoot down aircraft taking off and landing. When the pilots took off, they went as straight up as possible. When they landed, they swept right in without much of an approach. Still, many of them were hit.
But the plane was not shot at that day, and we arrived at the island where transient living quarters had been set up for people passing through. When we arrived, we discovered that there had been such an influx of personnel that day that the Army staff could not provide beds for us. But they had made arrangements to send us to the Navy compound on the other side of the island. There we were shown into a two-story barracks. I happened to get the first floor, a lucky circumstance in case of attack. After receiving my linen, I made my bed. Then I sat down for a leisurely talk with two soldiers who had come over with me. As we talked another soldier came in.
“Better watch it tonight,” he said. “There’s a rumor that we’re supposed to get hit again.”
When I walked into the church that Sabbath, I found it an experience more glorious than I could ever imagine.
It seemed that I just could not get away from this country peaceably. “This is the last piece of news I need, but I’m glad you told us. We can prepare for it and maybe we can help one another,” I said grimly.
We decided to stay as awake and alert as possible. We were sitting on our bunks around ten-thirty that night when all of a sudden, the world seemed to explode. We jumped under our beds. Under one of the other beds a fellow was saying, “Hail, Mary, full of grace . . .” The rosary he was using sounded like a handful of marbles, he was so nervous. Another was asking God to help him. Then I heard myself saying, “Please, Lord, get me out of here safely.” I heard many kinds of prayers in that barracks that night.
I thought back to my experiences of the previous three days. I was sure God was intervening to save me, but all the familiar questions crowded through my mind—for what purpose? why me?
The all-clear signal jolted my thoughts back to the present. I was anxious to find out what damage had been done. I saw a medic going by and called to him. “Was anyone killed or wounded?”
“Four of the soldiers who were going back with you got wiped out on the other end of the barracks. That’s all we have been able to find.”
We went outside. A rocket had hit right below my window, but it was a dud. If it had exploded, everyone in the room would have been killed. I said, “Can you beat that! I’m so scared now that my insides feel like jelly.”
“Let’s get out of here before that thing goes off,” one of the soldiers said. “Here we are, close to going home and saved by a dud.”
“No!” I said. “I believe we were saved by God. Someone had to stop that thing from going off. It isn’t just luck that we have come this far and are still safe.” The plane that was to take me off the island and out of Vietnam departed at ten o’clock the next night. All of us on the plane shouted for joy. In our happiness, we even forgot about the enemy’s strategy of shooting at the takeoff. After a long flight, the plane finally landed. I was so excited that I stuttered to the stewardess as I prepared to deplane.
“Soldier, you really are excited about getting home, aren’t you!” she said.
I saw my family
“Sure am,” I replied, looking out of the windows of the plane, trying to locate my family. The door finally opened, and all of a sudden, I was going down the ramp. My knees were shaking. I saw my family on the other side of the fence. I ran as hard as I could, passing the guard. He didn’t even try to stop me. My family and I all had tears in our eyes. I grasped them all in my arms and squeezed. We seemed to stay like that for an eternity until finally someone tapped me on the shoulder and said, “You have to go back and clear customs, soldier. Sorry!”
I turned around. It was the guard. I went back and rushed through to get back to my family. I had not seen my wife and children for a whole year.
I arrived on a Friday. The next day was the day my wife went to church, and I was going with her. As we started for church that morning a strong certainty came over me. “You have joined this church, haven’t you?” I said. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was afraid you’d get upset, and the last thing I wanted to do was upset you while you were over there. Oh, Gene, I’m so happy God has answered two of my prayers. One was that you would come back safely to me. The other was that you would come to church.”
When I walked into the church that Sabbath, I found it an experience more glorious than I could ever imagine. The people were loving and friendly, but the most important thing was that I was really home with God. I was at peace for the first time in my life. I understood now why God had saved me. He had plans for me. To walk into God’s house, filled with love, to know that He was guiding me step by step, brought me undreamed-of happiness.
I thank Him that He spared me. Now I belong to Him and want to live for Him.
This article originally appeared in Adventist Review, December 14, 1978.