Happy Valentine's Day

Valentine’s Day was special to Sgt. Edmund Sheldon. On that day in 1968 a Viet Cong mortar round landed five feet from his tent in Vietnam and completely destroyed it. It so happened that he was not in the tent, having been called away a few moments before to take a radio message. Sixteen years earlier, his unit in Korea had been hit by enemy mortar fire on February 14, marking the start of a four-day battle. ‘Happy Valentine’s Day’ has had a special meaning to this soldier ever since these events.

Valentine’s Day, as we now know it, has vestiges of both Christian and ancient Roman traditions:

One legend contends that Valentine was a priest who served during the third century in Rome. When Emperor Claudius II decided that single men made better soldiers than those with wives and families, he outlawed marriage for young men—his crop of potential soldiers. Valentine, realizing the injustice of the decree, defied Claudius and continued to perform marriages for young lovers in secret. When Valentine’s actions were discovered, Claudius ordered that he be put to death.

Pope Gelasius declared February 14 St. Valentine’s Day around 498 A.D. Through the ages since then, the day has became ever more associated with romantic love and the exchange of affectionate notes and letters. Printed cards came into vogue in the 1800’s, leading to the billion cards per year industry that we know today.

Although some of us have a certain cynicism about the blatant commercialism of all our holidays, including this one, Valentine’s Day still presents a golden opportunity to focus our attention on the ones we love. If cards and flowers advance certain romantic relationships, that’s a good thing. If well-established couples rekindle a spark, that is even better. I believe that God smiles in heaven when a man and woman nourish the love that brought them together and, in the process, nourish and strengthen their families.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices in truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. ~1 Corinthians 13:4-7

(This story is the February 14 devotional from Stories of Faith and Courage from the Vietnam War.

Devotional for the Day

The following is an excerpt from my new book, Stories of Faith and Courage from the Vietnam War The story is titled, "Tracers"

Red-orange fireballs erupted wherever mortars impacted, and enemy green tracers crossed paths with friendly red tracers. Seeing the colorful pyrotechnics, it was easy to forget how deadly the attacks could be. The American red tracers poured out in defense, and the enemy tracers converged inward like a million fireflies at war.

His tracer rounds ricocheted in lazy, bright-red arcs, a breath before the first pinging sounds of steel on steel returned to the south bank. Streams of tracer fire converged on the target, bouncing off in a crazy-quilt pattern and joining four times as many invisible rounds in a giant buzzing hornet’s nest of sound. Then the machine guns on the north bank opened fire in short stuttering bursts and the enemy’s tracers, bright green, came vaulting over the river.

Every fifth round in a belt of machine gun ammunition is normally a tracer. These are special bullets with a hollow base filled with a bright burning pyrotechnic material such as phosphorous or magnesium. When fired, they create a red or green streak that enables the gunner to follow the trajectory of his rounds and adjust his aim accordingly.
Unfortunately, there is an old military adage that, “Tracers work both ways.” The bright red streaks that help gunners adjust fire, also mark their position for the enemy. Hence, the converging red and green fireworks described above.
The Apostle Paul described a similar principle governing our behavior by using an agricultural metaphor: “A man reaps what he sows” (Galatians 6:7). He points out the obvious: When you plant corn, you can expect to harvest corn. When you send out indifference or irritation toward others, you can expect the same in return. Conversely, a smile or friendly gesture will usually lead to something good. The people in our lives and God himself will sooner or later follow the tracers we send out—back to their source.

The one who sows to please his sinful nature, from that nature will reap destruction; the one who sows to please the Spirit, from the Spirit will reap eternal life. Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. ~Galatians 6:8-9

Christmas at Khe Sanh

There is no good place to be away from home at Christmas. A hill outside the perimeter of the Marine combat base at Khe Sanh in Vietnam would surely rank high among the worst. On Christmas day, 1967, Sergeant James Oyster stood duty on this far away outpost. Thankfully, it was a quiet day and hot food was brought up to the hilltop by helicopter. The same aircraft took away three friends rotating back to the states, after a sad farewell for those left behind. An airplane flew overhead playing Christmas carols. When the Marines heard “I’ll Be Home for Christmas,” several half-joked that they should shoot the plane down. Sergeant Oyster noted his thoughts about all this in his diary:

We’ve been outside all day just kind of messing around and we had a spotter plane fly over playing Christmas carols. Sitting there listening to that was kind of sad: kind of melancholy I think. You know that back home the family is opening the Christmas presents and I hope they are thinking of me. But it is just not the same. This is not the first Christmas I have spent away from home. This is the first Christmas that I was in a position I couldn’t at least get on the phone and call them. But I’m sure they are thinking of me. I hope that they are praying for me, too.

I spent a Christmas day in Vietnam at the Phu Bai combat base with a lot more amenities than those enjoyed by Sgt. Oyster. On Christmas days now, I am surrounded by friends and family with all the comforts of home. For all of us in safe and secure places, it is a time to remember those who are not so blessed. At this moment there are men and women on alert at lonely outposts far from home. Some are in danger. All are lonely. All are missing their families and loved ones. They deserve our thoughts and prayers.

The angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.” Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests.” ~Luke 2:10-14

(This story is a daily devotional from the soon-to-be published Battlefields & Blessings: Stories of Faith and Courage from the Vietnam War.)

A Christmas Story from Vietnam

Silent Night (2)

Just before sunrise a torrential rain soaked the Marines and half-filled their foxholes with water. During the day temperatures soared above one hundred degrees, subjecting the men to a tropical steam bath and unremitting heat. As the sun set that evening, Navy corpsman Bob Dirr thought to himself that this was a heck of a way to spend Christmas Eve. He was on watch, leaning against the back of a muddy foxhole, trying to keep his feet out of the water. Arrayed around him were his medical bag, M-16, and three hundred rounds of ammo.
As he gazed at the North Star, he thought of another star long ago and of other Christmases from his past. His heart ached with loneliness as he thought of home and loved ones, and contemplated the desolation around him—no presents, no decorations—only doubts, if he would see another Christmas at home.
As he stared idly into the darkness, a green flare streaked across the sky, fired from a distant fire support base. Quickly, another flare went up, and then another. As he watched, the sky above the horizon was crisscrossed with red, blue, yellow, and green flares. Dirr glanced at the luminous dial on his watch. It was one minute after midnight—it was Christmas. Faintly at first, he heard singing in the distance. It grew louder as men along the line picked up the familiar melody. Soon, the hills resounded to the quiet but firm voices of hundreds of men. As tears ran down his face, the young corpsman joined the chorus:

Silent night, holy night
All is calm, all is bright
Round yon virgin mother and child.
Holy Infant, so tender and mild,
Sleep in heavenly peace.
Sleep in heavenly peace.

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. And an angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them. ~Luke 2:8-9

(This story is from soon-to-be published Battlefields & Blessings, Stories of Faith and Courage from the Vietnam War)