Christmas celebrations are upon us as we observe this religious
and festive time of the year. Yet, there is a certain part of our
population who do not seem to appreciate the historic
Judeo-Christian religious history of our country. Obviously, our
founders were religious. Just look at all the historic government
buildings with biblical quotations placed upon them.
Christmas celebrations are upon us as we observe this religious and festive time of the year. Yet, there is a certain part of our population who do not seem to appreciate the historic Judeo-Christian religious history of our country. Obviously, our founders were religious. Just look at all the historic government buildings with biblical quotations placed upon them.
Nevertheless, it is said that there are no atheists in the foxhole. I believe that and have an experience to tell for this season.
The remembrance of war dead is difficult for many veterans, recalling emotions caused by a loss of buddies. Thus, many veterans have problems in talking about certain experiences and absolutely refuse to talk about others. A brief thought can bring on tears and loss of control.
However, there has been help for this Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) for some time. I began classes in 2001. With a marvelous psychologist who knew how to bring the class out of its dark past, we freed ourselves of that horrible emotion that hung over us.
Our psychologist would ask questions and we would respond. Shockingly, many times in our answers, we burst into tears and could not go on. She handled this with soothing response or quietly moved on to the next person. She had a knack for knowing just what to do.
I believe these classes drew me out, so that I could rid myself of deep unrevealed feelings. Thus, I can speak of these experiences.
In June 1951, in central Korea, although we, Marines, were taking ridges, we were also taking many casualties.
Because we had so many casualties, we had been sent 1st Marine Division Headquarters mess cooks and office clerks to fill in as ammo carriers for our depleted machine gun section.
As we started this attack, one Division Headquarters clerk, beside me, began to complain about being there. He complained about being shoved into the line when he should have been back at Division Headquarters. He was scared as we all were.
For most of the day, we assaulted the ridgelines.
Late that afternoon, we still had not taken the topmost ridge. We were in desperate shape. Our machine gun section of two machine guns and some 14 men with the recent replacements were pinned down in a defile, or gully. No one was operating the guns. We were all packed in like sardines in the bottom of this ditch, when the Chinese finally got us zeroed in. They dropped in 12 mortars in and around our platoon in groups of four.
It is an awful feeling to hear the “swoosh” and wait for the explosion. You can tell how close they are by the sound; and, I knew the last four were right on our section in the gully. The first two weren’t so bad; they bracketed the gully. We were all dry mouthed, a little sick with apprehension, waiting.
The third mortar came in right behind us on the other bank. It seemed that the fourth one would never come, but I knew it would. I knew this one was it because they come in a pattern. I lay there and prayed. I’ve never been so scared in my life. Fear is terrible when you realize the next minute you may be ripped apart by shrapnel.
Then, it hit. It was so close I thought it had blown me up. I seemed to float above our gully and there were bright lights above. I was free. Now, think about this. I had no worries.
I thought I was dead and my only sorrow was for my family because they wouldn’t see me anymore. I was happy because I had no worries.
All my worries were gone! I believe perhaps death may have been revealed, if just for a moment.
The mortar had hit at the edge of the gully just above my head. My pack was riddled with shrapnel. I looked up the line of our section and every member of my squad was wounded. I looked down the line of our section and every member of the other squad was wounded. The entire machine gun section was wounded as well as all the new replacements, except the headquarters clerk next to me. He was killed. I was the only one who did not have a scratch.
For many years after the war, I had toyed with this thought: at the instant I believed that I had been killed, my concern was not that I had been killed, my concern was not that I might die but that my death might bring sorrow to those who loved me. I felt no sorrow for me and my death; I felt great relief. Ultimately, I would have no more worry.
Obviously, I did not die and that inner feeling of having found a hidden truth – human beings worry; spirit beings do not – seemed to open a philosophical door for me. Bluntly stated, my epiphany was that death is a change in being, not to be feared.
“Life without God is like an unsharpened pencil – it has no point.” – Billy Graham
Merry Christmas to all.
Burton Anderson is a Purple Heart Korean War Marine veteran and the author of “We Claim The Title – Korean War Marines.” He can be reached at ba****@*ol.com.
