15 - 21 FEBRUAR 2016

3 Missionaries 2 Young Men Offenbach Branch

Well, the foreseeable has happened. The facility management personnel came this week and asked us to give up our office space and do our missionary callings out of our apartment. We had hoped that we could remain in the area office building and in close association with the other employees and missionary couples until our release, but they seem to be bringing in many additional employees for whom they need office space. The Area Mental Health Advisors (AMHA) are prime targets, and now all three AMHAs will no longer have offices in the building. We technically can do our contacting of missionaries from anywhere. The mobile phone is technically our office, along with our trusty laptop computers, and our apartment in Porthstrasse 11 has a second small bedroom that can be made into an office with computers and such. The biggest disappointment is for Elaine, who won't have the close association with the other sisters. She can still get over to the office building and participate in the daily walks, classes, and study groups that the sisters have organized. All said, we won't have to move until the end of March, which leaves us only 3 months until our release date.

William, Andrew, Daniel, Joseph Merkel

      Today our little branch had the highest attendance yet, close to 100 persons. This was mostly due to visitors coming to attend the baby blessing of our branch president's little baby boy. He has four given names, William, Andrew, Joseph and I can't remember the other. It was a very nice blessing. Alex's mother (who recently lost her husband) and brother and other family members came to support.
      Last Monday evening Stephen was the speaker at our monthly senior missionary devotional. It being the day after Valentine's Day, they wanted a topic somewhat related to charity or love, and Stephen offered to tell a Vietnam Love Story, which he did. He told of his experiences in Vietnam in the spring of 1972, and how those experiences shaped his knowledge of God's love for mankind and our love for each other. He read segments from the book he wrote and published to his posterity called "No Greater Love."  It was very well received by all who attended, and many were touched by the spirit of the pure love of Father in Heaven and the Savior. Truly it is a powerful story of love set against an unlikely backdrop of human conflict. Perhaps that is what makes it so powerful. The last segment of the talk follows:

The Offenbacher Zweig gathers to worship

     "I was flown to 95 Army med Hospital in Da Nang w/ body bag to receive medical help. I hadn’t known that anyone had been killed in the rescue operation, and the airmen that loaded the body bag in beside me could see the shock on my face. One said to me, “Hey Lieutenant, it ain’t your fault. It’s just that he was a damned good man!”

     The pilots leveled off at two hundred feet and pointed the nose of the gun ship south toward Da Nang Airbase, about a forty-five minute flight.  The sun was slipping behind the Annamite Mountains that rose in brilliant jaded thrusts along the Saravan Province of Laos. The land of Vietnam was stunningly beautiful at eventide.

       As I looked down upon this land that I had defended, I was overwhelmed with a sense of compassion for the people of Vietnam. My anger had turned to humility, my haughtiness to meekness, my prejudice to brotherhood and goodwill. Mere duty had grown into honor and privilege. I had been in love with the cause for freedom, but, now, I loved the people, even those who were esteemed to be my enemy. I loved freedom and was proud to have stood against human bondage and counted it as a privilege to have sacrificed for these people.

     

Spotting Fire Mai Chang River 1972

 The vision passed away below me, and I turned my gaze upon the lone, green body bag that lay so still beside me. The head, shoulder and knee of an American crew chief who had been killed during the rescue operation protruded against the opaque rubber. Fresh drops of his crimson blood seeped through the metal teeth of the zipper and dripped slowly onto the floor of the cargo bay. 

      I had never met the Crew Chief; didn’t even know his name. Yet, he made the ultimate sacrifice for me, coming like an angel of mercy to bring me safely home. He had paid the ultimate price for me. How do I compensate a man for his life? I had nothing to offer, so I reached out and touched his yet soft shoulder and simply said, “Thank you.”

      As I performed that simple and grossly inadequate act, the words of John came freely to my mind:

Purple Heart Hickham Air Force Base Hawaii

"Greater love hath no man than this that a man lay down his life for his friends." One greater than both me and the crew chief had spoken those words and had given his life that we might claim victory over death and live again.

      And I remembered that the Creator had given us a commandment to love each other, even as He loved us, insomuch that we would not have a mind to injure one another, but to live peaceably and not fight and quarrel with each other; and to love and serve one another, and succor those in need. The carnal law of an eye-for-an-eye and a tooth-for-a-tooth was a dead law that was born of fear and revenge. It was the law that had been followed in Vietnam, and its fruit was bitter. But Christ had taught us a higher law of love whose fruit was sweet above all else. And I understood that faith in Jesus Christ meant embracing mercy and unconditional love for all mankind, even those who sought evil toward me. I understood more clearly that I was a man of peace, not of war, but also one who cherished liberty and would stand in its defense.

      The only way I could honor the Crew Chief and the Savior was to accept their gifts and return home and raise a family and keep the covenant I had made behind the sandbagged wall in Quang Tri: I would be the best father and husband that I could be.

      The Huey landed at the 95^th Med field hospital in Da Nang and I slid out, rifle still in hand and with blood-stained legs, and stood watching a band of white-clad nurses and medics hurrying toward me with wheelchair and gurney.

      I both welcomed and was repulsed by the sight, for their merciful service also represented an end to simplicity.  The last days had been a simple but ominous task of survival.  Now came the more arduous task of healing. As the medics placed the crew chief on the gurney, one said to me, “You’re luckier than your buddy.” I didn’t answer him, but silently said within, “We shall meet again someday.”

      Ironically, human conflict had taught me the greatest of all commandments: to love my God and fellow beings. Sacrifice had been the catalyst for that love. If I had never come to Vietnam, never sacrificed as I had, I would not have had the same capacity to love.

      A new seal had been placed upon my heart. This was the love of which Christ spoke to his apostles, the kind of love that can only come by sacrifice and perhaps suffering. His own suffering sealed his love for us and gave him power to become our Savior and Redeemer. When you have suffered for someone, you are filled with compassion and an abiding interest in their welfare. This is why Mothers have such a bond of love with their children.

       

Blake, Elaine, and Jeff

Far away to the north, I heard the rumble of artillery and bombs as the war raged on. My war was over and I was filled with peace. I was going home with promises to keep. Now, I could look homeward with anticipation where a special lady and two little tow-headed boys waited for me.

      As a postscript: Seventeen years after my return from Vietnam near the end of my military career, I returned to Washington DC and visited the Vietnam Memorial, searching for the name of my unknown hero. I wanted to report to him about his gift. The two little boys were now young men and 4 more children had been added.

        The Vietnam War Memorial rises out of the earth like a black, mournful mist, tapers to an apex height of approximately eight feet, then, returns back into earth from whence it came. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. The single massive tabloid bears the names of over 58,000 who died in the Vietnam War. No statues of statesmen that led our nation during that era are found there. No Washingtons, Jeffersons, or Lincolns there. No marble tabloids reveal purpose or wisdom for the human sacrifice offered. Nothing there helps heal the broken heart or soothe the grief.

       As fitting a tribute the Wall is to those who fell, it is but a wall. Healing must come from within. It is the way with warriors not to linger in the sorrow of death, but to rejoice in the gift of life, and suck fervently upon its juices, knowing that they do not last. Only memories last and the intangible qualities of our spirit.

I discovered that there was no way of identifying the crew chief's name on the wall because there was no rank or service listed; only names and dates of death. He remains anonymous to me to this day, but when the time is right, he will be revealed to me.

But Jesus Christ is not anonymous to me. He is my Lord, my Savior, and Redeemer. His love for us is known: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life” (John 3:16). He has commanded us to love him with heart, mind, and strength, and to love all others as we love ourselves. These three loves: God, others, and self, are what shape us in mortality and fit us for the kingdom of God. May the Lord bless each of us with his peace and love, I pray, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen."