The Question Answered

 

 

I will never forget April 21, 1968. I was serving in Vietnam. My outfit was fighting the North Vietnamese in the Ah Shau. The fighting had been brutal for well over a week. Ten months in country, several close calls and watching men I knew die. Several as I held them, watching life slip from their bodies. I began having thoughts I would not make it home.

The one thing that helped me through those days was a silver Tau Crucifix I wore around my neck, given to me by my grandfather.

I will remember that day as long as I live. My mom had our family over for a get together the day before I was to report back for deployment to Vietnam.

When grandpa and grandma were getting ready to leave. Grandpa came up and asked to walk out front with him.

As we stood facing each other. I could not help but notice his eyes were red from crying. One thing I loved most about him was his act of being a tough guy. He did not fool anyone.

He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a silver chain with a silver crucifix. As he held it in his hand. He said,

“John, I wore this chain with this Tau crucifix medallion that my father gave to me before I shipped out for France in 1917. He told me he had prayed to St. Francis of Assisi asking him to protect me and keep me safe. I gave it to your father, and he made it home. Now I am giving it to you, so you will come home safe.”

As soon as he handed it to me, I slipped it around my neck and gave him a huge hug.

“I love you, grandpa.”

He gave me another hug.

“I love you too.”

As we were walking back to get grandma, he stopped and looked at me.

“There is one more thing. Don’t count on it saving you if you do something stupid.” He laughed.

He smiled. “John, things will not be the same when you come home.”

Before I could ask him what he meant. My kid brother grabbed me and pulled me over to my buddies.

As he and my grandmother were getting into their car, to leave. It was time for more hugs and tears.

I was very close to Grandpa and Grandma Miller. They only lived three blocks away. During the summer, my younger brothers and I were over there almost every day. Grandpa would come home for lunch. Grandma loved when we were all there. We would sit at the table and listen to grandpa.

I cherished those days. By the middle of May, 1968, we had been fighting for almost three weeks. This was the most intense fighting I had been involved in since I arrived. Our unit had seen most of the fight. I

Finally, we were given a break. We had two days to rest, resupply, and bring in replacements for our killed and wounded.

The one thing about Vietnam was how eerily quiet it was at night. You could hear a twig break. Or in my case, the sound of a mortar round being fired. I was trying to get some sleep. When I heard the sound of a mortar being fired. When it is dropped down a tube and ignites the sound as it comes out of the tube is a “thump.”

Before I even had time to react, I saw a flash of light and a deafening sound.

I have no explanation for what happened next. I could see Doc, our medic, kneeling over me, “We need a chopper now!” Blood covered his hands. The look on his face was sheer terror. I felt no pain. Just a peaceful feeling. Doc yelled for help in moving me. I saw Jim Johnson and Joey Parent, reaching down and picking me up. They ran with me to a chopper and threw me onto the floor. I could feel the chopper lifting off.

I drifted into unconsciousness. There was total silence.

So many thoughts ran through my head, but one kept coming back to me was my grandpa’s words.

“John, things will not be the same when you come home.”

I came too. There was a doctor standing over me and I knew I was on an operating table.

“Can you save him?” a nurse said.

“I am going to try.”

Once again, I drifted into the unconscious world.

When I came to, there was a nurse in her green army fatigues standing over me. I turned my head and saw I was in a hospital ward.

I asked her where was I?

“An army hospital just outside of Tokyo. Soldier, you are one tough guy. By alright you should have died. You had over a hundred shrapnel holes in your body. Plus, the amount of blood you lost. But here you are. Doctor Price will be glad to see you awake. He said you would survive if you could get past the first forty-eight hours.”

She grabbed my hand and told me she was going for Doctor Price.

I looked and saw my Tau crucifix lay across my chest, silver chain and all.

My only thoughts were of that night, the explosion and all what I saw. The words of my grandpa kept ringing in my head. That things would not be the same when I came home.

The nurse returned with a doctor.

“Well, soldier, you are an amazing young fellow. Your will to live kept you from dying. You will be with us for at least four weeks. Then, I hope we can get you to a military hospital near your home. Sounds good?”

“It does.”

“Follow my orders and, most importantly, listen to your nurses.”

Doctor Price was right in his timing. Almost four weeks to the day. I was sent home. Thankfully, it was only an hour’s drive for my folks.

Three days after I arrived, my parents came to visit.

My mother’s eyes were red from crying, this time with joy. My father had a smile from ear to ear. He bent down over me and hugged me.

When I asked about the family. My mother pulled out her handkerchief out of her purse.

“John, your grandpa passed away.”

Before she said anything, my father cut in.

“Son, your grandpa passed away. It was shortly after we found out you were going to live.”

“How did he die?”

“In his sleep. In the back of my mind, it was as if he lived until we knew you were going to make it.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a nurse walking up to my bed.

“Excuse me, folks. It’s time to let this young man get some rest.”

We said our goodbyes. My dad said we will be back tomorrow.

After they were gone, I began thinking about grandpa’s words. I realized that somehow that night at my parents’, he knew he would die before I came home.

Reaching under my blanket and hospital gown. I found my Tau crucifix and held it in my left hand.

I thought of grandpa. He was there with me.

Whispering, I said. “Grandpa, I wore my cross every day. I am alive today because of your cross and you.”

Eventually, they released me from the hospital. My father picked me up. I told my father before we go home. I needed to visit grandpa and grandma.

When we arrived at the cemetery, I asked my dad to stay in the car. Walking over to my grandparents. I stood over them and spoke to each one. I held the chain and cross in my hand.

“Grandpa, I know this cross protected me and kept me safe.”

I took it off and said to him.

“Grandpa, I pray to God that no one in our family will ever wear this cross again. I love you.”

It has been over fifty years since that since that day in Vietnam. With joy in my heart, I can say that no one in our family has needed to wear that cross and chain.