Prayer:
Lord, even when I can’t see the bigger picture, help me to trust in your sovereign plan.
“Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. (1 Corinthians 13:12b)
May 17
REALITY CHECK
Wendy Gade, wife of Capt. Daniel Gade
“What do you mean? I don’t understand!” I stood in the Costco parking lot with my cell phone pressed to my ear, shaking my head as if that would clear the confusion away. Daniel had just called from Iraq and told me his roommate Tyler had been killed in action.
“No, no, no,” I kept repeating, “It just can’t be.”
But it was and at Daniel’s request, I drove to Atlanta, two hours from where I had been living in Birmingham with my sister, to take his condolences to Tyler’s family. I arrived just hours after they heard the news.
Will they be angry? I wondered as I rang the doorbell.
Tyler’s brother opened the door and graciously escorted me through the crowd of friends and family already filling the house and introduced me to his parents.
They took me into another room and gathered Tyler’s siblings and their spouses. Mrs. Brown just held my hands as I haltingly shared with them Daniel’s condolences and offered to try to answer their questions from my limited information.
“Was there anyone else?” They wanted to know.
“No, he was the only one killed that day,” I had to tell them. It was so difficult. It’s hard to know your loved one was singled out, yet you’re glad that no one else was killed.
Looking into Mrs. Brown’s tear-stained face, my eyes were opened to a terrifying possibility. I thought to myself, God allowed Tyler to go home, and this was a Christian man with great potential. He was a great leader. He had an opportunity to do something much grander and safer, and he chose to be with his soldiers and he lost his life. God doesn’t love Tyler’s parents any less than he loves me. So just because Daniel loves God and loves us, and I really, really, really want him to be my husband and Anna Grace’s daddy, I don’t have any guarantee that that is God’s plan. It sent the message to my heart that this was about God’s glory, not about us.
Prayer:
Lord, show me how to use my present circumstances to reflect your glory to those around me.
“For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be the glory forever! Amen.” (Romans 11:36)
May 18
ARE MY LEGS OK?
Capt. Daniel Gade, U.S. Army, Iraq (2004–2005)
This couldn’t feel more dangerous than it does right now, I thought, squinting into the desert sun.
The road we were driving on was elevated and right alongside of it was an irrigation canal. We were visible for a long way, no trees or buildings obscuring the view. I felt exposed to unseen attacks but this was the road we had to take to reach the next sheik who we hoped would give us information on Al Qaeda whereabouts. I was in the front passenger seat while my driver kept driving.
The next thing I knew was that I was on my back in a ditch just waking up. Somebody was screaming. I tried to go to whoever it was, but my soldiers pushed me back down on a stretcher where I had been unconscious for a few minutes.
“Relax sir,” my soldier said, “you’re the only one.” They were already treating very massive wounds.
I’m the only one WHAT? I wondered.
Then it hit me. I’m the only casualty. My mind was very foggy, my vision blurred. Everything looked bright but sounds seemed far away. I was in shock.
When I lifted my head and looked past my feet, I saw the Humvee I had been riding in still on the road with its door blown open. The guys were working on my leg, my body armor was blown open, and I thought at the time that I could actually see my intestines. As it turns out I couldn’t quite but almost. My battalion executive officer (XO) was holding my hand talking to me it’s what one does with casualties.
“Are my legs okay?” I asked.
“You’re going to be fine,” was the response.
If you’ve ever watched any war movies, you know that “You’re going to be fine,” means “You’re in really serious trouble.” It’s what you tell someone who’s dying because you don’t want them to panic; that just complicates the medical situation. That’s when I knew it was pretty bad.
Prayer:
Lord, help me make the most of every day you grant me on this earth.
“Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.” (James 4:14)
May 19
OUR MOST SEVERE CATEGORY
Wendy Gade, wife of Capt. Daniel Gade
It was Jan. 10, 2005. I was on my way out the door to run an errand and my mom, who had been visiting from Atlanta, was about to head home.
Then the phone rang.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Good morning ma’am, this is Captain _____ from Ft. Carson. I need to inform you that your husband has been injured. I have a report to read to you.”
Daniel had been injured once before so I was not alarmed yet. I thought, Well he’ll call me as soon as he can; this is probably a little more serious.
“Broken bones and lacerations,” the captain continued. “He’s very seriously injured… I’m sorry to tell you this is our most severe category.”
So that’s when I understood. Daniel was hanging on to his life.
After jotting down some phone numbers, I hung up the phone and somehow, through the tears, strung the words together to tell my mom what I just learned. She fell on her knees and started praying immediately. Both of us got our church prayer chains going and I asked Patton, Daniel’s brother, to relay the information to Daniel’s family. All I could do then was pray.
Daniel had a fractured skull, a broken bone in the neck, and a massive wound from his sternum, across his groin to the right knee. Sitting in the humvee, the explosion came through the bottom of his right leg and out the top of the same leg. Two fists could fit in the gaping hole of his leg. The abdominal wall on the front was stripped away; the skin and flesh were pushed to the side. An ice cream scoop-size of tissue had been carved out from inside his left thigh.
But I wouldn’t know any of this until many agonizing hours later. Thoughts of Tyler’s death came to mind. I trusted God, but I was not convinced he would choose to save Daniel’s life.
Prayer:
Lord, give me the desire and discipline to become an active prayer warrior even before crisis hits.
“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die…” (Ecclesiastes 3:1–2a)
May 20
A SERIES OF MIRACLES
Capt. Daniel Gade, U.S. Army, Iraq (2004–2005)
My life hung in the balance. One wrong move, a delayed decision or action from those in charge of my care, would have made my wife a twenty-nine-year-old widow and my daughter fatherless.
But a series of coincidences (or maybe miracles) saved my life that day.
First, as we were getting ready to leave to visit the sheiks that day. My medic, Sergeant Krause, asked to tag along with our convoy.
“Hey sir, I know I normally don’t go out on missions with you but I feel like I should today,” he said.
Then one of my superiors, the battalion executive officer (XO), also asked to come.
“I haven’t been out with you in a while, and I’m bored,” Major Cotton said.
After the blast, the medic ran up to me, took one look and said, “We need to get this guy on a helicopter.” If they had taken me to the base “aid station” five kilometers away (normal procedure), I would have died in transit.
Because of his higher rank, the XO was able to call for a helicopter on a higher priority radio frequency in order to divert a helicopter that had already been in flight. So a helicopter arrived at the scene in five minutes instead of the usual thirty.
When the man who dispatched the helicopter heard that I, a stranger to him, needed to be picked up and was in really bad shape, he immediately sent an email to his home church in California. So within five minutes of the injury, Christians in California were praying for me at a time when I needed it most.
In the meantime, Sergeant Krause reached into the wound and applied direct pressure on the severed artery and vein. A tourniquet would have slipped into the wound and I would have bled to death on the scene.
When I heard the blades of the helicopter chopping the air above me I thought, “Oh thank God I’m saved,” passed out and woke up three weeks later out of a medically-induced coma at Walter Reed Army Medical Center in Washington, D.C.
Prayer:
Lord, when you bless me with your care and provision, help me recognize it as your providence and not just a lucky break.
“For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways.” (Psalm 91:11)
May 21
BOND OF THE HOLY SPIRIT
Wendy Gade, wife of Capt. Daniel Gade
When Daniel arrived at the tent hospital thirty miles from the scene of the attack, surgeon Lt. Cdr. Lowell Chambers rushed him to the operating room, bypassing the emergency room, for a nine-hour surgery. It was another critical decision that was the difference between life and death for Daniel Gade.
During the course of Captain Gade’s recovery, he sent a letter to Dr. Chambers to thank him for saving his life. The excerpts below are taken from Dr. Chambers’ reply:
Daniel,
It’s great to hear from you! We have been praying for you, Wendy, and Anna Grace multiple times each day since we had the privilege of caring for you on January 10.
During the course of [the surgery] I noted feeling an unusually strong bond with you. I feel a special bond with all the warriors God has given me the opportunity to care for but I felt it particularly strong in this case. After learning you are a Christian, I came to understand this was likely the Holy Spirit bearing witness that you were a fellow believer. At one point after we had done all we could surgically and were just trying to get you stabilized enough to transport, you transiently dropped your blood pressure and had some cardiac arrhythmias. There was nothing more for me to do surgically and as I asked CDR Narine (our senior anesthesiologist who did your case) to give you some Epinephrine. I was so afraid we were going to fail you and your family (I noticed your wedding band) that it overwhelmed me and I just put my head down on your shoulder and wept and prayed for you. By the grace of God your arrhythmias stabilized, your BP came back up, and we were then able to transport you….
Thank you for the great sacrifice you and your family have made for our nation. Your example of courage and strength are inspiring and are a great witness to our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. We are praying for you daily as you face the ongoing trials of rehabilitation. I count it the highest of honors to have been able to care for you.
Prayer:
Lord, thank you for granting me will and intellect, but help me never forget to bring my requests to you instead of trying to solve all things myself.
“The Lord is near… with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.” (Philippians 4: 5b, 6b)
May 22
HEROINES IN FLIGHT
Wendy Gade, wife of Capt. Daniel Gade
Why are we doing this? Why are we doing this? The nurse said over and over in her mind as she looked at her watch. She had been stationed outside the tent hospital as the hours crawled by, waiting until Daniel stabilized so they could transport him to the Army hospital in Baghdad. We could be working with someone else that has a better chance of survival, she thought.
At last, he was ready to be moved. Her time had come, and she sprang into action. Another nurse volunteered to join her for the journey even though it wasn’t her turn, and they took off into the sky with Daniel’s life now in their hands.
Not long after, the helicopter came under attack. The aircraft shook and jerked away from enemy fire while the two nurses did what they could to keep Daniel as stable as possible. The ventilator that was doing Daniel’s breathing for him stopped working, so one nurse had to hand-ventilate him while the other continued to administer his medicine. I’m not sure what they were giving him, but I know he needed it. Without that second set of hands from the nurse who volunteered, Daniel’s life would have been snuffed out in transit.
“I don’t feel a pulse,” said one nurse, looking up at the other. “Do you?” Neither of them could find it. The helicopter continued to rock violently, the roar of the rotors making it difficult to hear. They really didn’t know if he was alive.
I can’t believe the nurses didn’t give up; I truly can’t. But they just kept performing their duties as if he were alive one hand-ventilating him and the other giving him the medicine because they couldn’t be sure.
Finally, they landed at the hospital in Baghdad. When they turned him over to the Army, the nurse said, “We have worked very hard. Please, you need to understand what we’ve put into this man. Now it’s your turn,” and handed him into their care.
Prayer:
Lord, help me always do my job to the best of my ability, even if I can’t be sure of the outcome.
“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men.” (Colossians 3:23)
May 23
THIS IS WHERE WE START
Wendy Gade, wife of Capt. Daniel Gade
My heart was pounding. Three days had passed since Daniel had been injured, and I was about to see him for the first time at Walter Reed. Daniel’s brother, Patton, prayed with me before we entered surgical ICU together.
Machines filled the room, with tubes going in and out of Daniel’s body. He had just been checked out by his doctors at Walter Reed, and since they had not re-bandaged him yet, I was able to get a good look at the magnitude of his injuries. They had opened up his belly; it was just wide open. I had never seen anything like it.
Okay, all right, this is where we start, I thought. This is where we are, what we’re going to move forward from.
I had a job to do: to support my husband and be the leader of the family while he recovered. I had to rise now because he needed me. I wasn’t going to look back on it with regret, I was going to do the best I could. So that’s where we started.
And it was a long road ahead. In Korea, he spent all his free time working out and trained his men to push themselves beyond their physical limits, too. Some of the guys thought he was crazy, but when Daniel was hit, everyone could see how being in good shape really helped his body. He had additional muscle and more blood.
The body ate up his muscle to get energy. He went from being really strong and muscular to being so thin he couldn’t even keep a ring on his finger. His cheeks were concave, his eyes almost looked too big for his face. We had shaved his head to be able to keep it clean easier, and the resulting appearance reminded me of pictures I had seen of prisoners in Auschwitz.
He was unbelievably thin and weak. For the first time since I had known him, he was helpless, but I knew he was going to make it. And in the meantime, I braced myself for what would be required of me calling on prayer and God’s strength to be my support.
Prayer:
Lord, use my weaknesses to prove your strength and receive the glory.
“But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’” (2 Corinthians 12:9a)
May 24
WAKING UP TO CHANGE
Capt. Daniel Gade, U.S. Army, Iraq (2004–2005)
When I became conscious again, my leg was gone. But I was alive.
A week after the injury, my right leg was decomposing so quickly that my body had become septic and I was crashing. The doctor was terrified I was going to die so he made a decision: it was either my leg or my life.
As soon as they took my leg, my vitals began to improve. But I was in a precarious position for many weeks to come.
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In the first two months following the injury, I had received more than one hundred and twenty units of blood (the human body has about ten to twelve units of blood), and I had undergone about thirty-five surgeries. Kidney and liver failure plagued me, too. I was so messed up that it took me a while before I was even ready to start physical therapy. My abdomen was still open for a long time the doctors at the initial trauma station had opened it to visually inspect all the organs and make sure no little piece of shrapnel had nicked anything.
So it was at least two months after I got hurt that I could even sit up. It took three people to move me to the chair with all the tubes and wires. I sat for ten minutes and was in total agony.
The recovery process seemed really drawn out, punctuated with ups and downs. At first I was just thrilled to be alive thrilled that my genitals were intact, that I could still be a dad and a husband, be functional. So I went from that elation to trying to cope with the exact level of my disability. How bad is it? How bad is it going to stay? How good is it going to get?
Throughout the recovery process, my dad’s advice came back to me. I had decided not to become bitter before I ever landed on Iraqi soil. I was determined to stay true to that resolve, to remember that my circumstance was just one brushstroke in a masterpiece God was creating.
Prayer:
Lord, grow my desire to glorify you so much that I will be content with both good times and bad as long as you are honored.
Stories of Faith and Courage from the War in Iraq and Afghanistan Page 21