He arrived at about six a.m. on a Sunday morning, an hour and a half before I started my shift. I walked into the room at seven thirty and it was eerily silent. Two of our surgeons were just passed out on the couches, still with blood on their clothes.
“What’s going on?” I woke one of them up to ask.
“We got this kid last night and already put 110 units of blood into him,” he said, “and I don’t think we’re going to save him.”
So we walked over to the ICU to take a look at the patient together. The young surgeon was tormented. Sometimes we know we won’t save a casualty and we have more coming in… so do we keep trying or are we kidding ourselves? After putting so much work and time, would we even have a patient that’s salvageable?
Prayer:
Lord, when I am overwhelmed with tough decisions, give me wisdom so I can see clearly which direction to pursue.
“If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him.” (James 1:5)
June 10
FATHER’S DAY
Colonel Jay A. Johannigman, Deputy Commander of the 332nd U.S. Air Force EMEDS (Expeditionary Medical Support), Iraq, 2003
We arrived at the Marine’s bedside and found him asleep. The rhythmic sound of his breathing machine was a quiet but sobering reminder of just how fragile his life was at the moment.
“John, are you OK?” Andy, my colleague surgeon, grabbed him by the hand. This young Marine nodded his head.
“John, give me a thumbs up.” With his one remaining arm, John gave a thumbs up.
We looked at each other and said, “Well, we’re going to press forward. We’re not going to give up on him.” He was still bleeding, so we took him back to the operating room to wash out his wounds the best we could. We threw everything including the kitchen sink at him to try to make him stop bleeding. The chaplain was there every moment with us praying with us to give us the courage to do these kinds of things.
It was Father’s Day. Those of us who were fathers said we’re not going to have his father remember Father’s Day as the day he lost his son.
We didn’t have enough stored blood for him, so we had soldiers lined up around the tent waiting to donate their blood for this young man because we were not going to lose him on Father’s Day. He ended up needing 248 units of whole blood, but he survived Father’s Day.
Thankfully, we were able to get him stabilized, packaged up, and flown to Germany. From there he made it back to Brook Army Medical Center in Fort Sam Houston, Texas, where his family joined him.
Unfortunately, in the third month of his recovery, he developed a severe infection that he was not able to recover from. So he passed away, but he did so with his family at his side, as God intended.
Prayer:
Lord, give me the strength to persevere to the best of my ability and leave the results up to you.
“As you know, we consider blessed those who have persevered.” (James 5:11a)
June 11
THE BIGGER PICTURE
Carol Pinkerton-Ewens, mother of a fallen soldier and three other army soldiers
We have given the Army all four of our sons. Forrest died in the war already, and Oaken is fulfilling years of service as a West Point graduate. If I lose Oaken also, I not only lose him but also lose another part of Forrest, as they were identical twins. Our younger son Elisha had already served one year in Iraq, several months in Afghanistan and faces deployment again as will Oaken. Stephen enlisted into the Regular Army-Infantry shortly after Forrest was killed.
I remember when Eli was deployed, and how hard it was for me to face that he was going into an environment where other people would be trying to kill him. My sweet boy, who had never done anything to anyone, would be suddenly the unmarked, unknown evil occupier.
But my fears have never been limited to physical harm. I also feared for my son that his outlook towards this segment of humanity would become desensitized. I feared that the army would create an environment of survival which would breed dehumanization and Eli would look at the Iraqis as less than human. My greatest fear was probably that my sons would come home with their hearts hardened and changed, and unable to see God’s essence in other people. I feared more for their spiritual health than their physical, as I believed their spiritual health is most vital to their physical health.
I have a deep, simple faith that God has a plan for each of our lives and that our lives influence others in so many ways. I believe in what I call the “ripple effect,” that you have the power to touch other’s lives by the even simplest things you do. I believe that we have the potential for eternal effect, just like the ripples on a pond are initiated by a pebble being thrown in the water, and starts a concentric circle of movement that in turn will have impact elsewhere.
So during these times of deployments, my faith rested on the concept that God was using my children in a way that I may not be able to truly understand, but that God sees the ripples and eternal effect on the larger pond. I held onto this thought, trusting that God has his eyes on the bigger picture.
Prayer:
Lord, when only being able to see parts of the whole throws me into confusion, help me trust in your master plan.
“As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.” (Isaiah 55:9)
June 12
A MOTHER’S PRAYER
Carol Pinkerton-Ewens
I’ll never forget the day Elisha, not yet twenty-one years old, left for Iraq. Once he was on his way, I wrote these thoughts and prayer to the Lord, which I have continued to pray for each of my sons:
January 23, 2004
I watched Eli leave today, held him in my arms for the last time until we meet again, either in another year, or in our next life. He showed no fears, no worries, and only spoke to encourage me and lessen my fears. He has grown up so much, become a man in such a short time. I held my tears while saying goodbye, knowing that he was more worried about my feelings than his own, but inside, I felt those many months of separation looming and allowed each hug to settle deep in my memory.
I just sent my son off to war, to the danger of losing his life from an enemy who hates him and wants him dead, my blessed affectionate caring son.
Blessed Be Your Name, Lord
I trust you to walk alongside my soldier son, Elisha, as he heads to a battle, not of his own making.
Bless Elisha’s courage and stalwartness, as he continues to be more concerned about other’s feelings and fears than his own.
I ask you to protect Elisha’s heart, his mind, and his relationship with you. I ask you to be present with him on a daily basis.
Please allow Elisha to see you in the faces of all he meets, even those he fights against, and let him feel you beside him during times of danger and fear.
I entrust my son’s heart to you. I ask you to be the guardian of his emotional, spiritual, and physical state, and his eternal life with You.
For I believe you are his Savior, his Protector, his Tower of Strength and Refuge in times of trouble.
Lord, bring peace to the troubled region and peoples of Iraq, Afghanistan and Iran, and bring this soldier safely home.
Prayer:
Father, remind me to pray the spiritual health of my loved ones at least as often as I bring their physical hardships before you.
“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you.” (Isaiah 41:10)
June 13
STEPHEN’S DECISION
Carol Pinkerton-Ewens
“No, no!” I cried, tears streaming down my face.
It was just a few weeks after Forrest’s death when my youngest son, Stephen, announced his desire to enlist. I was still reeling in grief for one son. Stephen’s decision absolutely floored me.
I experienced actual physical pain during any discussion of him joining up, but to no av
ail. He enlisted and left at the end of August 2006 six weeks after Forrest’s death and just two days before we found out my father had terminal liver cancer.
Devastated by Forrest’s loss, Stephen was driven to be part of the same thing that his big brother was. While he and the twins were always at odds growing up, in adulthood Stephen felt that Forrest was the only brother who really reached out to him during some of his hard times.
Watching all the attention given in the weeks after Forrest’s death, Stephen, who had been rather lackadaisical about school, jobs, his life in general, suddenly saw something bigger than himself that he wanted to be part of. He saw that Forrest had achieved something honorable and worthy, and that others recognized it. I think he reevaluated his life and saw that he wanted to achieve the same.
Stephen had been offered a position in the Old Guard at Arlington National Cemetery, but turned it down to do his part in Korea for one year. Recently, he transferred to Fort Lewis and is now close to home.
How I cried when he tried to talk to me about enlisting. My pain was too raw from just losing Forrest, and to think my youngest, with whom I shared an incredibly close relationship, would defy me and leave me after being dealt such a blow, was unfathomable to me. It took me months and still takes effort, to accept his decision.
Prayer:
Lord, show me how to echo David in Psalm 13 and rejoice in your salvation even as I have sorrow in my heart.
“How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart?… But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation.” (Psalm 13:2, 5)
June 14
BRAVERY
Carol Pinkerton-Ewens
All in all, it has been a growing and painful process for me to accept my sons’ decisions. If I had had my choice, my mother’s heart would have had them all out of harms way, in school, working, or doing their part in a less violent way. But I have to accept that they are grown men, and cannot be held back by their mother’s apron-strings. They must not live life with regret because they did not do something that they believe God would have them do. And so it is my part to somehow muster up enough strength and resolve to support them during these many upcoming years.
Sometimes I become angry that my children forced us to face more possibilities of injury and death. I look at the other families of fallen soldiers who I have come to know and see their living children rallying around them to support them… and yet my own head off into the same direction as their brother. Sometimes I question whether we were good parents. Are we not worthy of our children’s compassion and protection? Or do they simply think that we are strong enough to handle the emotional and heart-breaking risks of losing another child? Should I be honored, angry, hurt?
“You’re so brave,” people often tell me. “I could never do what you are doing.”
But where is the choice? Does not bravery mean you have chosen to do something to benefit others at the risk of your own harm? I have no choice in this matter, but have been forced to rely on God. Does that sound bad? The word “force” sounds like I think that is a poor choice, but I don’t. Isn’t it our human nature to rely on our own strength? In my case, I have been faced with my total weaknesses and inadequacies so sharply that I am forced to admit that without God, I would be a crumpled up little person in the absence of any hope. Presently and hopefully forever, I am content with relying upon God’s strength, and trust that he will carry me through anything I will face.
Prayer:
Lord God, arm me with strength and direct my steps until I pass through this trial.
“It is God who arms me with strength and makes my way perfect.” (Psalm 18:32)
June 15
WHAT I DIDN’T KNOW
Oaken Ewens, First Lieutenant, U.S. Army
When they handed me the envelope I felt my heart sink. It was my job to hand-carry the dead soldier’s personal affects as I escorted him to his final resting place. At that time I didn’t know that one particular soldier had crawled on his hands and knees through the Afghan dirt until he had found all but the wedding band. I didn’t know that this soldier knew exactly how much change the fallen soldier had in his pocket or that when he finally found his wooden cross it was hanging in a tree. I just knew that the package felt heavy and that the dead soldier was my twin brother.
When the funeral director opened the casket and left the room I didn’t know that my little brother Stephen would straighten his life out or that our childhood friend would give his life to Christ. I didn’t know that there was a soldier in Afghanistan so impacted by Forrest that he refocused his life for Christ before dying a month later. All I knew was that there was lint on his bronze star. I gently removed it.
When the final bugle note faded and the crowd dispersed I found myself in a place I had never been before a place of solitude before God. My twin brother, my constant companion, had gone on ahead of me to heaven. It was time for my faith to truly become my own in a way it hadn’t before.
The two-year anniversary of that mountain ambush has come and gone and I feel keenly the lack of control for myself and my other two brothers who are in the Army. I have the same job as Forrest the same rank. Will my life end soon as his did? Will my brothers? No matter the answer, we choose put our lives on hold while we serve our country.
Forrest once said, “Open your eyes and you will see, there is more to God than you believe.” My faith sometimes feels blind, but I know Forrest was right. God is orchestrating more than I can even imagine, even if I can’t see it.
Prayer:
Lord, help me to trust that you are using all things in my life to somehow bring yourself glory.
“And we know that all things work together for good for those that love God.” (Romans 8:28)
June 16
HE WAS READY
Stephen Ewens, Specialist, U.S. Army
My brother’s death changed everything for me.
Before Forrest died, I wasn’t going anywhere; I had no goals for the future. When he was killed, my eyes were opened to the value of life, and I knew I could do better with mine. After talking to all the soldiers that knew him I could see the pride and honor that they had in their work and that made me want to honor him by continuing his work. The army has allowed me to accomplish more than I could ever have done in the civilian world, and I am thankful for that.
It was difficult to see my mom in pain over my choice to enlist, but I had made my mind up. If anyone else was going to die in this war I would rather it be me.
Most of the time I block thoughts of Forrest’s death from my mind because the pain is crippling. But when I deny his sacrifice, I feel that I am not honoring him enough. The fact that he died in combat makes me proud of him but also makes me terribly sad. Was his death instant or did he realize what was happening and that he was about to die? War is an ugly thing, it’s not like the movies; these are real people with real families and real pains.
Even though it has been two years, it’s so hard to believe that he is not here anymore. I always think that I can just pick up the phone and call him, like he is on a long vacation. He was a great man, the most fun, loving, and exciting brother anyone could ask for. I always wondered why God took him and not one of his other brothers. It is clear now it was because he was the only one of us who was ready. He had run that race, fought the good fight, and lived a life full of dignity, honor, and pride. Knowing he was such a great man now that helps with the pain.
Prayer:
Lord, help me strive to run the race in a way that pleases you so that I might be ready when you choose to call me home.
“I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.” (2 Timothy 4:7)
June 17
SOMETHING CHANGED
Chaplain Col. Gene (Chip) Fowler, U.S. Army, Command Chaplain for Combined Joint Task Force 7 (the command and control element for all coalition forces in Iraq), 2004–2005
I went to war
on September 11, 2001. I don’t carry the same kind of weapon that other soldiers do, but I went to war with them anyway. Something changed for our nation a deep, penetrating soul-search. At the beginning of this war, I was called on to send some of my troops chaplains and chaplain assistants to serve the soldiers who would fight and die in this war. My heart burned as they left and I remained behind.
But in January of 2004, I finally found myself on the battlefield with them, sharing their depredations, fears, hopes, and faith. No one wants war less than the soldier who bears the brunt of its fury. They are a special lot those who deem freedom worth the hardships and hazards of war and I am so humbled and honored to serve with them. It’s my job to help them strengthen their faith, but I find my faith being strengthened by them. I know that some question this war, but not the soldiers; they know what is at stake, for on September 11, 2001, something changed.
For the first time in six decades, we realized that we faced the sure extinction of the sweet water of freedom. And we realized that “whatever it takes, for as long as it takes,” we must fight this war. Why? Because freedom is worth it. When we look at what life is like in the model “they” want to impose on the world, it is abhorrent to us. Freedom carries its pitfalls and excesses, yes, but freedom also gives us the power of choice. And choice gives us the opportunity to seek God in all his will and to enjoy life in all his glory. Something changed in 2001 we paid freedom’s price. Now let us show freedom’s power, “whatever it takes, for as long as it takes!” For we have been changed.
Stories of Faith and Courage from the War in Iraq and Afghanistan Page 24