Posted on 01/27/2005 2:20:29 PM PST by Steve Newton
DYING
The old sergeants platoon had just fought an engagement against a group of terrorists that had ambushed them just outside the Western part of Baghdad. The rag heads had completely surprised them and the sergeant blamed himself. It was a coordinated attack using an IED and terrorists attacking from both directions using pick up trucks with steel plating welded across the windows and doors.
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The old sergeants platoon had just fought an engagement against a group of terrorists that had ambushed them just outside the Western part of Baghdad. The rag heads had completely surprised them and the sergeant blamed himself. It was a coordinated attack using an IED and terrorists attacking from both directions using pick up trucks with steel plating welded across the windows and doors.
When surprised you fall back on your training and the platoon had driven the enemy off but not without a cost. As the platoon set up a defensive perimeter and were waiting for e-vac the doc had come up to the sergeant and told him that one of the goon squad was not going to make it. The old sergeant had walked over to the ditch that the young soldier was lying in and knelt in the sand.
The kid looked up at the sergeant and in a whisper said, “sarge. Can I talk with you alone? “Sure kid,” the sergeant muttered. The doc just shook his head and moved off to wait for the helicopter. “Sarge, am I going to die?” the young soldier asked. The sergeant sat down beside him and took his hand. “Yeah, kid. You’re not going to make it.” The soldier got a small tear in his left eye that ran down his cheek. The sergeant wiped it away.
“You think it will hurt sarge?” “Nah,” the sergeant said. The doc has you pumped up with meds. You’ll be ok.” The soldier looked down at his body and the sergeant immediately covered his eyes. “I’m scared sarge. And I’m cold. So very cold. Could you please get my mom?” The old sergeant got a far away look in his eyes. Taking an old Bible out of his shirt pocket he put it on the soldiers chest. “How about if I tell you a story son?” the old sergeant asked. “Just like mom used to do when I was little?” “Yeah kid. Just like that.” “Sure,” the soldier replied.
The sergeant started out, “When I was about 5 years old I lived on a farm in the backwoods of Missouri. Even then I loved guns and movies about the army. I had just gotten a BB gun and was out “hunting.” I had been out for about an hour when I spotted the most beautiful blue bird. It was huge for a blue bird and like the dumb kid I was I took a wild shot at it. Well, it fell to the ground at my feet and just lay there. I tapped it with my toe and I was amazed that it still did not move. I guess I did not understand the concept of killing or dying.”
“I picked up the bird and ran as fast as I could to the house where my mother was cooking supper. Crying I told my mother the whole story and asked her to please make the bird well again. Of course she explained to me that she could not do that. But she had me hold the bird in my hands until I could feel the warmth of life flowing away from the bird and the cold of death settle around it. My mother said that when it was cold the bird had earned its wings and had gone to heaven to sing for the angels.”
“I learned a few things that day. That things really do die and that when you take a life of any kind you had better be prepared for the consequences and have some mighty good reasons. But the most important thing I learned was that when you felt cold it meant you were going to sing for the angels.”
The young soldier was getting weaker and weaker and the sergeant could hear the e-vac off in the distance. But he gathered his strength to say, “You think they’ll let me sing for the angels sarge?” “I know they will boy. God is with you holding your other hand just like I’m holding this one. And before you know it; the sergeant stopped. He looked down and saw that the kid was no longer with him.
The old sergeant sat holding the soldiers hand until he was sure the boy was ice cold. “Sing nice kid,” the old sergeant said. “You’ve earned your wings.”
Steve Newton
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Steven.newton1@att.net
The “Old Sergeant” Series is fictional
True or not, if that story doesn't bring a tear to your eye, then you've got no heart.
I don't envy those who must comfort the dying, nor those who have to bear the bad news to their families. Dying is surely hard, especially for a young person who dies a violent death, but it can be much harder on those who are left.
Know what ya mean. That is true about dying and those who care for the sick and dying.
Yes. If you have ever been close to dying you know that the only thing you think about is God and your family. Nothing else matters, not bills, not the office not anything.
God bless buddy
Steve
Fortunately, the closest that I've come when I've been old enough to be aware of it was about 10 years ago when I nearly got clipped by a taxi in NYC. I had no time to think about it while it was happening, but I did have my heart in my mouth for a few minutes after that. Of course, I'm sure that there were other times, but Someone was looking out for me to such an extent that I wasn't even aware of what was happening - and for that I am truly thankful.
I am, however, sure that you are correct about what someone in that position thinks about - how could it be otherwise in any normal person?
A) Thanks for posting the story - Steve, you need to try to syndicate this - I'll say it agin, this kind of work has the very real potental to feed you and your family. Please frepmail mail, I can offer some advice.
B) Its not the going, but the being ready that counts
C) Everybody loves Doc
D) The Lord himself is with the medics, part of the team I believe.
My friend. You are a true hero. I thank you for your kind words and I congratulate you on your first post. I also want to thank you for your service to your country.
I would love to hear some of your stories if you feel like telling them. I know that they tear at your heart and I would more than understand if you do not want to talk of them.
You e-mail me anytime my friend. steven.newton1@att.net
God love ya my brother.
Steve Newton
Well said my friend.
Steve
Without people like you and your fellow soldiers, Marines, sailors and airmen, we wouldn't be free. Those of us who merely observe, from thousands of miles away and in the comfort of our living rooms, what you and your comrades have done and are doing, are indebted to all of you.
DS
Yeah buddy.
But will I be able to find my way back?
Steve
Keep your feet on the ground (The Rock) and your head in the clouds.
New Old Sarge story posted my friend.
Steve
498th Dustoff Bandaid Bump!
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