A Story About My Chaplain in Desert Storm
Last thread on Desert Storm, which ended 30 years ago.
Our chaplain was a fine fellow. The Army was his second career and he was older, measured, calm & wise.
(Oh, that's me below, not him. Our unit ID is on the M113 if any care.)
Before we deployed, I was scared. I had just gotten married, and not only was I sad about being deployed so suddenly, I was worried I would not do my duty.
So I went to go see the chaplain in his office. He said the simplest, wisest thing.
He said, "Chris, God does not provide strength ahead of time that we can store up. He provides it on the day."
I've never forgotten that. And come to think of it, that's kinda in the Lord's Prayer, isn't it? But there's more.
Our chaplain was faithful throughout our deployment with his personal visits, and holding multiple small worship services through the week.
I'm pretty sure we sung "Trust and Obey" at every single one, but that's OK.
He took care of all his soldiers and preached God's grace.
This one time, I let him take my seat in the HMMWV to navigate in the middle of the night while I sat in back.
He started following some artillery unit from Oklahoma and got us miles off track.*
I lost my temper & cussed him out. He forgave me & never brought it up again.
That's the kind of man he was. Just pure grace.
After the ceasefire, he came and found me 30 years ago today. We shared a tin of crab I had been saving for months until we could celebrate peace.
He never offered us the Lord's Supper, but that was its own kind of Communion.
But here is what I remember about him most.
The next day, two days after the ceasefire, we got word over the radio that Iraqi tanks were headed our way.
Soon, the artillery began to fire overhead and Apache gunships raced into action.
This was the battle of Rumaila, a terribly one-sided affair it turned out.
But none of the men seemed to be taking it seriously. We were in a front line infantry battalion, but after all we had won the war handily.
I was just a medical 2LT, but I began running around telling the Combat Trains to do their job.
Put your helmet on! Button your flak jacket!
Hey, you M88 crew, pull your vehicle with its .50 cal up to that hole in the berm!
And I was being a little frantic, truth be told.
And than I ran by the Chaplain's HMMWV.
And I will never forget this.
There he was on his knees, praying.
I was doing my job. And he was doing his.
As a pastor, how often I have recalled this picture when I am most likely to panic. When I think it's all up to me.
There is a lot we can do. But nothing is more important than praying.
Thank you, Chaplain Brown. Thank you for your service.
Thank you for your example.
(*I should be clear, this sort of thing happened to all of us now & then over a 7 month deployment. I once got our HMMWV stuck in quicksand for no good reason at all.)