Monday, April 4
Billy
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. —Psalm 23:1
I would like to tell you about a Marine buddy of mine. Let me call him Billy. Let me give you a little back history of Billy. Billy had the morals of an alley cat, and his morals would make an alley cat blush.
Lt. Dan, but angrier. Faith in Marines on left or right. Faith in M-16s. Faith in physical things. Billy was scuzzy. I wouldn’t bring him home for Christmas dinner. But he had good qualities, honest and loyal. You know the type.
He would razz people. I have had a Bible since Confirmation that goes with me everywhere. He would stop before it got to be hurtful. He did it to everybody who had a symbol of faith.
Billy and I were on convoys. We did a lot of convoys. It had been a bad week; it had been a bad convoy so far. Let’s just say the news media had a very lucrative week.
As we were driving I heard and saw a thunderstorm. Off on the right. Just the fact that I was seeing and hearing thunder made me think of south LA. On the left I saw a rolling, boiling wall, and I thought, “Oh I am going to experience my first major sand storm.” Visibility ceased to exist. You had to grab your buddy next to you to make sure he was still there because the sand was so thick. Billy is just cussing and fussing because we can’t do our job to protect our Marines.
Going through the sandstorm, rain catches up and now it’s flying mud with less visibility. You can’t see your hand in front of your face. Billy just knows something bad is about to happen.
We get to our destination, and the sandstorm and rain-storm finally stop. We are getting ready to bed down, and we actually get to sleep inside. We come under fire that night. Next day we get ready to come back and I felt a sense of peace, because you are always on edge. I felt today we would have no problems. Everything just felt scoured and peaceful. I had gotten up and was reading my Bible. Billy asked me what I was doing, and I told him I was finding peace for today.
Billy was quiet again which was kind of unusual for Billy. We get back early to the base. So Billy and I and our friend Roger decide to go to the theater building to get some snacks and lay back. We leave the theater and are walking back. As we are walking, Billy stops and looks up. I stop and look up as well. Before me, I see the mosque and the sun is setting. Around the mosque and through the windows you see the purples and oranges of the sunset. It was one of the most beautiful sunsets I have ever seen. I hear crying. I look to the left and there is no one there. I look to the right and Billy is on the ground sobbing his eyes out. My friend is crying, and I have no idea what is wrong. I put my hand on his shoulder and shake him. “What is wrong? Talk to me.”
Billy says, “I need a Bible and a cross. I need one now.” “I have my little Bible; will that do?” “I need something.” “I have my warrior’s cross.” He is crying and sobbing eyes out. “What’s the prayer you do with? I need the prayer. The one where you take the …” I had an epiphany. The prayer when you take communion. Roger and I fell to our knees and said “Our Father who art in Heaven”. Billy repeated after us. All of us were sobbing and crying saying the Lord’s Prayer in the dirt. Billy said, “I have found God. God is real. GOD IS REAL.”
We get up, and you can tell we have been crying. Billy will not let go of my Bible. Somebody looks like they are going to say something to us and then they decide that maybe they do not want to mess with three Marines that have been crying,
We walk back to the barracks and go to our room. Billy is holding my Bible so tightly. He asks if he can keep it. I tell him he can have it to the next convoy.
Before lights out, Billy asks me to do a favor.” Will you go with me to a chaplain?” “Which one?” Billy stops and thinks for a while and says, “The one that wears a cross.”
Next day we sign out and go to the chaplain. Billy has a death grip on my bullet-proof Bible. Billy tells the chaplain, “I really want to talk to you about faith,” and starts to tell what had been going through his mind. Chaplain asks if he wants to share it with a friend or alone. Billy says “His faith is pretty good. Could we work on mine?”
I wait outside, and the Chaplain’s Aide is going to chow hall. “Would you like to go with me and get food and bring back their meals?”
I go with him and we get chow. Billy is outside and is content and finally at peace. He says “You can have this back now,” handing me my bullet-proof Bible. I say, “You can never have too many of these.” “But look here, this one is mine.” The chaplain had calligraphied Billy’s name in the front of the Bible.
The Billy I deployed with is not the Billy I returned to the states with. Billy finished his hitch in the Marine Corps and went into seminary. I am sad to say that I lost contact with Billy, but he sent me one letter. How’s the faith? I’m still tuning mine.
God is always with you. Amen.
Paul Grady Madden