A Good Soldier

My husband’s father died last year.
He extensively researched the family genealogy.
We were all given a book many years ago, with the complete genealogy, up to that time.
He told his children that it was up to them to continue the story.

More grandchildren and even great-grandchildren have been born since then.
Each of our homes has this sturdy link to the past.
For my five children it is a priceless gift.

My father-in-law served proudly in World War II.
At the request of family members, he added an addendum to the family genealogy.
This addendum included his military service history.

With Memorial Day approaching, I decided to read the addendum…again.

When he was 18 years old, he registered for Selective Service.
He volunteered before receiving a draft notice.
He was always tall and terribly thin.
He was concerned that his weight would be the reason he would be rejected for service.

He reported for active duty in Philadelphia.
He went by train in Pullman Cars to his training destination in Texas.
The men were issued equipment for living out in the field.

They learned to fire various weapons and throw grenades accurately.
They learned how to use a bayonet, trench knives, and the art of camouflage.
The men were getting in shape; building up their endurance for the battle ahead.

At the end of three months, basic training was over.
A short furlough was given and then orders to Europe or the South Pacific.
After reporting to Maryland and given all new equipment, he got on a train to New York.
Once there, under cover of darkness, the men boarded a ship bound for Europe.

Landing in Scotland, they took a train which traversed England.
Then, they boarded a French ship to cross the English Channel to France.
They were transported to Omaha Beach.

My husband’s father was assigned to the XII Corps of the Third Army.
This was commanded by General George S. Patton.

Writing his military history fifty years after he served, he spoke of his remembrances.
“Combat to me is a series of uncoordinated and uncollected recollections: bullets bouncing off stone walls; watching a jeep come back across a narrow bridge…and seeing it destroyed by a mine; digging foxholes every time we stopped…I hated digging then and still do.”

I was struck by his remembrances of moments.
Not battle history, or victories…as much as friendships.
Buddies lost…buddies injured.
War for him was a series of moments.

“Standing in mud, walking in mud, sitting in mud, sleeping in mud.”

The constant mud and inability to get his feet warm and dry took its toll.
The soldiers had not been able to take off their boots for quite a while.
After a night in a deserted basement, they were finally able to remove them.
In the morning, his feet were incredibly swollen and painful.
He was not able to put his boots back on.

A jeep took him to an Aid Station, where he was diagnosed as having trench foot.
Damage to the tissues of the feet by prolonged exposure to water and cold.
Many other soldiers were diagnosed with the same condition.

They were transported to the hospital.
While in the waiting room, they were visited by General Patton.
The only known treatment for trench foot, at the time, was rest and painkillers.
Finally after treatment failed, he was sent back to a hospital in the United States.

“With both the war in Europe and the war with Japan over, I was honorably discharged on Wednesday, August 22, 1945, and went home proudly wearing on my uniform…the golden eagle pin we were given to wear after discharge…I had been a good soldier in a good outfit…when I was with them, I did what I was told to do and got the job done. As a 19 year old city boy, I was perfectly satisfied to follow directions…”

I had been a good soldier…I did what I was told to do and got the job done.

You then, my son, be strong in the grace that is in Christ Jesus. And the things you have heard me say in the presence of many witnesses entrust to reliable men who will also be qualified to teach others. Endure hardship with us like a good soldier of Christ Jesus. No one serving as a soldier gets involved in civilian affairs – he wants to please his commanding officer.
(2 Timothy 2:1-4)

We are soldiers of Christ.
The Lord Jesus is our Commanding Officer.
Directions have been given…and are to be followed.

It is not a matter of doing what we feel like doing.
It is a matter of doing what we are told to do.
It is basic training…getting in shape for the battle ahead.

It is difficult.
We stand, walk, sit, and sleep in the mud of this world.
One day we will be transported Home.

Our Commanding Officer will be there.
“Well done, good and faithful servant!” (Matthew 25:21)
That will be music to our ears.

I had been a good soldier…I did what I was told to do and got the job done.