The First Patrol

"Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love him"
James 1:12 NIV

1969-February-Somewhere in South Viet Nam

The day was pretty routine; the platoon had made the sweep of the grid we were assigned to cover, no ambushes, no enemy fire. It was quiet, too quiet. The LT passed the word that we would bed down for the night. To our south and the west was a tree line. To the north, just more flat land covered with rice paddies and to the east, a road. We were told we would run small patrols out of this position but for now rest was at the top of our priority list. We were supposed to dig a foxhole and bed down in it for the night. I quickly realized, the deeper you dug, the harder it got and the more tired you became, so I took the easy way out and dug a shallow hole deep enough for me to lay in, but not to sit up or stand in. My new digs were perfect, I could lay down and be comfortable, but this was not an ideal fighting hole. I did make a mound for a pillow though, out of dirt, so at least I would be comfortable. As I drifted off to sleep, I could hear the distant explosions and occasional gun fire, but nothing close to us. I looked up in the sky, the beauty of the night sky was incredible. Stars were so bright, you could almost reach out and touch them. It was so hard to believe I was in a combat zone. For just a moment, I was on a campout with my local Boy Scout Troop in Oklahoma, just hanging with my friends.

Just as I was closing my eyes, I was jarred back into reality with the whooshing sound of an RPG (Rocket Propelled Grenade) being fired at us as one of my Marines yelled "Incoming!". Not good. Suddenly, I realized my laziness could cost me my life; my hole wasn't deep enough. The LT yelled for all of us to stay put and keep our heads down. At the same time this was happening, we were being pinned down by sniper fire. I could literally feel the heat from the rounds as they passed within inches of my face as the enemy gunman fan fired our area. "Stay Down Doc!", the LT was yelling at me, I'm calling in Arty, (artillery) on our position. "Incoming, Incoming!" Suddenly, the treeline to our south was lit up by a bright yellow flaming color, debris flying everywhere. The sniper quit firing, but the arty continued. I could barely hear myself think. I would like to say, I did not know fear, but I can't, I was scared. I knew I was going to die. I remembered what the Gideon had told me as I boarded the bus for the flight here and I began to pray. I asked God to save me and I promised Him, that if He would spare my life, I would do whatever He wanted, whenever He asked.

If you make a promise to someone, sometimes they forget; Our Father never forgets and I speak from experience when I say, He will hold you to your promise. Don't promise Him something and expect never to pay your debt. He kept his promise to us when He sent His only Son to die for our sins. He gave us His best and expects the same from us. Are you giving your best or are you digging your foxhole just deep enough to get by?

The rest of the story...
We survived the night; God answered my prayer. He spared me, for then and for now. Yes, I have kept my promise to Him and each day that He gives me, I give him. That was part of the deal, part of His plan for my life.