Lent 1951

Lent began that year on February 7 and ended on March 24. I spent all that time either in the Naval Hospital in Yokohama, Japan or the rehab center near Kobe, Japan. In April they put me, and several hundred other Marines on a troop ship to take us back to the United States. I was flown out of Korea on December 6, 1950 and arrived at the hospital the same day. I want to share a witness of God’s grace to me during a very difficult period of time.

Laying in the bed and getting three meals a day I experienced as the closest thing to heaven that I had ever known. It sure beat fox holes and C-rations. I loved all the pretty nurses. They were very pretty from my perspective as compared to being with a bunch of Marines who were bearded, stunk from no bathing in months and most with several bouts of dysentery still clinging in the long johns, including yours truly.

It must have been in February or early March as I was well on the road to recovery. When I would fall asleep I would see the faces of the men, Chinese and North Korean whom I had shot at close range. I would clearly see fear in their eyes turn to deadness. Their mouths opened in a scream that never came out. At the time there was no time to feel or process all that was going on it was a time to stay alive, dead to feelings of all kind, responses to training and an insane desire to stay alive and kill the enemy. I dreaded going to sleep when I was in the hospital and often didn’t.

The one event that stood out most vivid had occurred on November 2 ^nd, long before the Chosin Reservoir campaign. At two in the morning the Chinese hit the Battalion full force. We were grossly outnumbered. Most of the enemy I killed that night was at very close range because it was so dark you didn’t see them until they were there. My foxhole was in the shadows of a small rise on the side of the mountain. One soldier didn’t know I was there until he was about four yards away and I literally blew him apart with my automatic rifle (BAR). Within seconds a group of three came up on my right with burp guns blazing. They met the same fate as their comrade. The next morning I discovered the parka I was wearing was full of holes. How I was missed was beyond me.

Morning finally came and the attack had been repulsed. During the actual combat you are so busy fighting there is no time for emotions. Before and after is a different story. I examined the bodies around my foxhole. One was an officer so I searched his body for maps, communications, anything that might be of value for G2. There was a small wallet inside his tunic. I opened it and saw a picture of him in his civilian clothes and surrounded by a wife and two small children. I had just made her a widow and the children orphans. In my own squad of thirteen there were only two of us left. I sat on the side of the mountain and the tears were on the inside but they wouldn’t come out, so I just sat there. In a few hours we were under assault again and those occurrences were shoved back to never, never land. All that mattered was to stop the enemy in front of you. Life was lived second to second if that long.

I saw several chaplains while in the hospital trying to deal with what I now know were flashbacks. The last chaplain I saw helped me identify what was happening and facilitating me to put a label on myself on how I was seeing myself as a murderer.

He challenged me with the Gospel and asked me the question, “Is what Christ did on the cross sufficient for the forgiveness of your sins.” Then after a long pause he asked, “But the important question is can you accept His forgiveness?” I heard the Lenten message of mercy in my head.

I wish I could say there were ringing bells and great moments of spiritual enlightenment but there wasn’t at that time. My head believed but it was miles from my heart. That struggle persisted for a few years.

Then one night, at two in the morning, in the midst of one of those memories I went to the bathroom and knelt before the toilet and lifted my eyes to the celling and implored, “Jesus, if you are real? Help me!”

He did. His presence, like hot oil was all over me inside and out and I felt waves of sheer love, for a very long period of time, sweeping over me and through me. God’s grace, mercy and love for me poured out in abundance that early morning and I wept for a long period of time. I slowly stood up and saw my face reflected back to me in the mirror. For the first time in a long time I liked who I saw looking back at me.

He had made me vulnerable enough to allow His grace, mercy and love to move from my head to my heart. He fully healed the wounded soul.

Lent is rightly focused on repentance and penance but it seems to be it is most about our becoming vulnerable enough to fully embrace the mercy God wants to give us. For me Lent is a time of becoming more vulnerable and tenderized to receive the mercy of God.