Grace Under Fire

by Andrew Carroll

  Dearest Steve—

  I have always wondered if I’d ever be one of those military wives who’d embrace her husband and say “good-bye” as tears streamed down her face…while he left to serve our country.

  Well, here we are, ten years into our marriage and it’s time for me to send you off to a bigger cause beyond our family…I’m very proud of you for your twenty year dedication to the United States Marine Corps!

  I realize that becoming a single mom for an uncertain amount of time is the sacrifice I’m willing to pay for gaining our American freedom back. I will pray continuously for your safety! May the Lord give you wisdom, strength and power to carry out His will.

  Lynda

  Ultimately, Steve did not go overseas. Instead, he served at Camp Pendleton helping young Marines with their deployments to and from Iraq.

  Steve, Lynda, Zachary, and Mark Belgum. The photograph was taken just after September 11, 2001.

  The War on Terrorism

  Marine Corps First Lieutenant Seth Moulton, in a Lighthearted Letter to a Priest Back in the States, Writes About His Favorite Chaplain Aboard Their Ship

  Although the subject of faith often inspires somber or pensive letters, many troops also share humorous thoughts and experiences when they write about God, religion, or the chaplains in their unit. While en route to the Middle East on the USS Belleau Wood with the 11th Marine Expeditionary Unit, twenty-five-year-old First Lieutenant Seth Moulton wrote to priests and chaplains who were also friends and mentors back in Massachusetts, where he was raised. Moulton handwrote the following letter to a priest he knew in college.

  June 25, 2004

  Dear Father Bob,

  I don’t think I can describe the excitement that attends mail call aboard ship or in country. It is always good to hear from you and learn of your latest work and travels, but all the more so when I am away myself.

  Life aboard the USS Belleau Wood en route to the Middle East has been just fine. I really do enjoy being at sea—it must be my Marblehead upbringing, because it’s not a sentiment widely shared among the Marines. To me, the tight quarters, mediocre food, and long work days are acceptable sacrifices in the name of an overall slower pace of life that allows for more time to read, write, and watch movies than I ever find at home. When you don’t have to commute to work, run errands, do the dishes, or go out nights, there’s suddenly a lot more time in every day….

  Church services aboard ship are quite a topic in and of themselves. The Catholic Chaplains in the Navy are far and away the best, and we have two good ones aboard the Belleau Wood. Father Shaughnessy is everybody’s favorite. He’s a big guy who grew up in a blue-collar family from Worcester. Every night just before taps is announced at 10 pm, they have an evening prayer over the ubiquitous announcement system. Somehow Father Shaughnessy has worked out a deal whereby he bucks what must be a regular rotation among the chaplains, because he ends every one of his prayers with, “And sportsfans, you’ll be glad to know that the Red Sox won tonight.” If things are going well, that’s followed by “and for you New Yorkers, the Yankees lost.” Unfortunately, it means that he hasn’t been saying too many prayers of late!…

  Of course, all this will be a thing of the past in a few weeks when we hit the ground in Kuwait. Then it’s a couple weeks of training before we convoy north to Iraq. I can’t say any more about where we’re going, but it should certainly be interesting. Everybody seems anxious to get on with things.

  Duty calls, as I have to work on another brief in preparation for our work in Iraq. I hope all continues well with you, and thanks again for writing.

  Sincerely yours, Seth

  Father Shaughnessy and Seth Moulton in Iraq, August 2003

  In an E-Mail to Friends and Family, Major Clint Sundt Expresses His Wonder at the History of the Land in Which He Is Serving

  “I have been in Iraq for three months now,” U.S. Army Major Clint Sundt, a thirty-four-year-old National Guard infantryman, wrote in his journal while stationed in Balad in May 2004. “Because of this, I will never see my son blow seven candles on a birthday cake. I will not be with my wife on our 13th anniversary. I will not be there when my youngest son says his first full sentence, or my daughter finishes the third grade.” As hard as it was to be separated from his family, Sundt was emboldened by his faith, and he concluded his journal by saying: “God has sent me here for a bigger purpose. Maybe, just maybe, my sacrifices will glorify him and make a difference for someone I never knew three months ago. I must put my faith in the hands of the Lord and be obedient to his will. It is for that obedience that I pray.” Sundt’s e-mails home also focused on both the challenges of being overseas and how meaningful the experience was to him. In one of his earliest messages back to his family and friends, he offered his first impressions of Iraq.

  Hello all! Hope this finds you all well. I want to begin this update by saying thanks to all of you who replied to me and sent words of support. I can’t tell you enough how much that lifts my spirits, and encourages me to continue to have a good attitude and approach to this mission….

  We have been assigned to a northern part of Iraq. I was selected to travel to our destination as part of a small advanced party detachment. There were only three of us selected to do this. Our job was to get to our destination and start making coordination and liaisons with the units already on the ground. To do this, we flew.

  We flew on a Chirpa-23. This is a small, 8 passenger prop Army airplane. This flight was one of the coolest flights I have ever taken…I couldn’t help but think about all the history that was below me. Iraq is the place where the world began. The Tigris and Euphrates Rivers meet at the place known as the birthplace of civilization. This region is also the place where Abraham migrated from (Abraham is claimed to be the father of the Hebrew / Jewish Nation (Isaac) as well as the Muslim/Islam nation—(Ishmael)). One of my goals this year while in Iraq is to read the entire Bible (chronological order, NIV). Well, I just happen to be reading the book of Genesis right now!! Genesis is all about this time era, and its major events. So to actually see this land, and read about its history is absolutely fascinating! The other thing I couldn’t help but think about was the history of the war. I could see tracks in the sand, dug out tank fighting positions, and the axis of advance where our brave armed forces had gone before us to liberate this country. It was an amazing sight….

  The tent we were assigned was not much to write home about. It was a tiny tent with six bunk beds in it (to sleep 12 total people)…. The tent was just like the one Hawkeye, BJ and Charles from MASH lived in, except smaller! Well, we knew we couldn’t change things for the night, so we bedded down at about 2200 (10:00 pm). At 0014 I awoke to the most terrifying moment of my life. I could hear a thunderous, loud sound of the rockets and artillery impacting outside. The percussion from the rounds detonating was so close, you could feel it in your stomach. I jumped/ fell from my bed (in a dazed state), and began fumbling around in the dark trying to find my clothes, shoes, Kevlar, weapons and body armor. Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, I found my gear and exited the tent. Unknown to us until that very moment, there were no bunkers near our tent. We were forced to huddle next to some concrete barrier walls, and hope that a round would not impact in our direct vicinity. As we crouched behind the barrier in the pitch dark night, we began to hear small arms machine gun fire. This was very confusing. We had no idea where the shooting was coming from, who was shooting at whom, or if they were headed our way. All we could do was increase our sense of awareness, lock and load our weapons, and keep our heads down.

  The mortar and artillery fire lasted for about thirty minutes. It was undoubtedly the longest thirty minutes of my life. Once the all clear signal was given, we went back to our tent, and tried to sleep the rest of the night. As I lay there after the attack, I couldn’t help but think about how grateful I was to the Lord for protecting me, and allowing me to survive everyday that I had so far. I never realized how good life is. I guess it
takes a life changing experience to jar your thoughts and thankfulness. I am grateful. I thank the Lord everyday for allowing me to live…. it truly is a blessing.

  I also could not help but think about the experiences and risks the soldiers before us endured. My experiences to date are nothing compared to the ones who have gone before me. Not just here in Iraq, but in all the wars before this one as well. I’m also thankful to those Veterans for what they did for our Country. I look forward to thanking the ones I know in person….

  God Bless, Clint

  Sundt served for eleven months and returned to his family in Arizona in May 2005.

  The Day Before He Died, Journalist David Bloom E-mails His Wife and Daughters to Say That, No Matter What Happens, “I am at Peace”

  In an unprecedented effort to show Americans firsthand the courage and bravery of our nation’s fighting forces, the Pentagon allowed hundreds of journalists to be “embedded” within individual military units serving in Operation Iraqi Freedom. These reporters encountered many of the same hardships and risks that U.S. troops did, as they all rushed—without sleep and under enemy fire—at breakneck speed toward Baghdad. And the terrible reality of these risks became evident in the early weeks of the invasion when two reporters died covering the war. The first was Michael Kelly, who was killed when the Humvee he was riding in crashed on April 3, 2003. Just three days later, the distinguished NBC News correspondent David Bloom died of a blot clot (also known as a pulmonary embolism), which was caused by the long hours he spent crammed inside a tank recovery vehicle, often with his knees pressed up against his chest. In an e-mail home written only the day before he died, the thirty-nine-year-old Bloom expressed to his wife, Melanie, how much he loved her and their three young daughters. And, especially in the context of all that he was witnessing in a war zone, he emphasized his devotion to God and the things that matter most in life.

  It’s 10 a.m. here Saturday morning, and I’ve just been talking to my soundman Bob Lapp about his older brother, whom he obviously loves and admires very much, who’s undergoing chemotherapy treatment for Leukemia. Here Bob is—out in the middle of the desert—and the brother he cares the world for—who had been the picture of health, devoted to his wife and kids, is dying.

  Bob can’t wait to be home to be with him, and I can’t wait to be home to be with all of you. You can’t begin to fathom—cannot begin to even glimpse the enormity—of the changes I have and am continuing to undergo. God takes you to the depths of your being—until you are at rock bottom—and then, if you turn to him with utter and blind faith, and resolve in your heart and mind to walk only with him and toward him, picks you up by your bootstraps and leads you home.

  I hope and pray that all my guys get out of this in one piece. But I tell you, Mel, I am at peace. Deeply saddened by the glimpses of death and destruction I have seen, but at peace with my God, and with you. I know only that my whole way of looking at life has turned upside down—here I am, supposedly at the peak of professional success, and I could frankly care less. Yes, I’m proud of the good job we’ve all been doing, but—in the scheme of things—it matters little compared to my relationship with you, and the girls, and Jesus. There is something far beyond my level of human understanding or comprehension going on here, some forging of metal through fire.

  I shifted my book of daily devotions and prayers to the inside of my flak jacket, so that it would be close to my heart, protecting me in a way, and foremost in my thoughts. When the moment comes when Jim or John—or Christine or Nicole or Ava or you—are talking about my last days, I am determined that they will say ‘he was devoted to his wife and children and he gave every ounce of his being not for himself, but for those whom he cared about most—God and his family.’ Save this note. Look at it a month from now, a year from now, 10 years from now, 20 years from now. You cannot know now—nor do I—whether you will look at it with tears, heartbreak and a sense of anguish and regret over what might have been, or whether you will say—he was and is a changed man, God did work a miracle in our lives.

  But I swear to you on everything that I hold dear—I am speaking the truth to you. And I will continue to speak the truth to you. And, not to be trite, but that will set me free. God bless you, Melanie. I love you and I know that you love me. Please give the girls a big hug—squeeze ’em tight—and let them know just how much their daddy loves and cares for them. With love and devotion, Dave.

  After Being Asked by His Father if He Believes in God, Staff Sergeant Brian T.Craig Writes Home from Afghanistan with a Heartfelt Answer

  &

  A Wounded and Grieving Staff Sergeant, Jeff Pugmire, also Serving in Afghanistan, Vents to His Wife About the Loss of Several of His Closest Friends

  U.S. troops serving today have more ways of communicating with the home front than any other generation of military personnel. Satellite phones, e-mail, and other high-speed forms of communication make it possible for servicemen and women in even the remotest parts of the world to talk or correspond instantaneously with their loved ones back in the States. But when they have something important to say, they often still put pen to paper and write a letter home. In early April 2002, twenty-seven-year-old Brian T. Craig, a staff sergeant in the Army’s 710th Explosives Ordnance Disposal (EOD) unit, phoned his dad in Houston, Texas, from Afghanistan to tell him that he was doing well. Craig’s father, Arthur, was a pastor, and he knew that his son’s faith in God and Jesus Christ had waned at times. During their conversation, Pastor Craig asked his son, “Brian, how is your walk with the Lord?” Right at that moment there was interference and the line went dead. The answer to his father’s question was so important to Brian that he decided to respond to his father with an actual handwritten letter.

  08 Apr 02

  Dear Dad,

  You have asked about my walk with Christ on the phone. I just wanted to write and let you know how things are going. I just started the book you sent “The Four Pillars of Man’s Heart”. It seems as though every book that you send is an answer to my prayers. God has really blessed me with both a great father and mother. I am so fortunate to have two people that I can always come to for advice. Thank you.

  Brian Craig in Houston, Texas, holding his nephew Samuel before Craig embarked for Afghanistan

  It is strange that of all my experiences in life, that here in Afghanistan I have really started to grow spiritually. The bible study that I was having with the group of guys before was an answered prayer. When I come home I will start to look for a weekly bible study. I realize how important it is. I also realize how important prayer is. The book “Fresh wind, Fresh Fire” was great.

  I have my good days and my bad days. I guess that is to be expected. I will do so good for a couple of days and then falter. I know as I continue to grow in the Lord, that my good days will outnumber my bad. I know that you pray for me and I thank you. Just know that God is answering your prayers concerning me.

  I never thought that I could grow in my relationship with God around the people that I work with. I read in one of the books as Christians we know there is a hole we just don’t know how deep it goes. I want to know how deep it goes. I don’t know if I said that right, but you know what I mean. My life is changing and I like it. I think that the guys I work with know that I am different. I just pray that I make a difference in their lives. I pray that I am a good example. Pray for me that I may be a good example of a man of Christ. Pray that I make the right decisions, say the right things, act the way that I should as a Christian.

  Thank you for your wisdom. Thank you for being the great parents that you are. Thank you for all that you do for me. Thank you for being a role model. Thank you for being not only parents but great friends. I love you and Mom so much.

  Love,

  Brian

  Tragically, this was the last letter that Brian ever wrote to his father. Exactly one week later, Craig and four other soldiers were in the process of destroying a cache of rockets just outside of Kandahar, Afgh
anistan, when a terrorist detonated a hidden bomb near where they were standing. Only one of the soldiers, Staff Sergeant Jeff Pugmire, survived. “I really don’t know what to say right now,” Pugmire e-mailed his wife, Jennie, back in California on April 20 from a hospital in Germany. “Three of my very dear friends paid the ultimate price for our freedom,” he continued.

  They laid down their lives on the alter of freedom and I should have been with them. I don’t know why God has called them home and not me. And I feel so very guilty for that. Why is my life worth anymore than theirs?? Why did they die and I live?

  The next day Pugmire wrote a longer e-mail articulating the many thoughts that were going through his head about the deaths of Brian Craig, Justin Galewski, Jamie Maugans, and Aaron Daniel Romero.

  Sun, 21 Apr 2002

  Hello my lover,

  I guess that I don’t really need to talk to you about the explosion as I have already talked to you and you should have gotten an email from me already. In my previous email I talked a little about my feeling about what has happened and I just need to get it out. I didn’t want to do it on the phone, so as to keep you in good spirits, but I just can’t quit thinking about Justin, Brian, Jamie and Aaron. I think about their families and how incredibly hard this will be for them. Hopefully they have some belief in God or basis in the gospel, as that I believe is the only way they will make sense of this terrible and horrendous incident. I pray for them honey, I really do. I pray for Justin’s little children, they will never have a chance to know him. How hard will that be, how terribly hard.