CHOOSE LIFE!

Private Ronny ***** was taking his turn as point man on a long-range patrol in the hot steamy jungles of Vietnam. His weary eyes were everywhere, stinging sweat ran down his forehead and his knuckles were white from the paralyzing grip he had on his M-16 rifle.

Suddenly he found himself lying on the ground, his eyes unfocused, blood pounding in his ears, the acrid smell of burnt gunpowder permeating the area.

He had been shot by a well-concealed enemy sniper. His lifeblood was pumping onto the hot fetid vegetation. Thoughts of home, of mom, of his girlfriend entered his mind just before a numbing peace sent him into darkness.

He awoke in a hospital to the pleasant smile of a young nurse. He was alive and he would live. He was told that his Platoon Leader gave him blood and had evacuated him from the hellish ambush site just in time. A few minutes more and he would have died from shock and loss of blood.

Specialist James ***** was in a fight for his life. The enemy had overran the perimeter of the fire support base and he was engaged in hand to hand combat. To his left and right the other men of his platoon were also in a desperate fight for survival.

Suddenly, he found himself lying on the muddy red earth. His jaw felt broken and his head was still ringing from the butt stroke the enemy had hit him with. The enemy was poised to run his bayonet into Jim's throat. He felt a sudden tear of regret well up in his eyes, knowing he was about to die.

A quick blur rushed in from his right and suddenly the enemy soldier lay dead at his feet. His Platoon Leader had appeared in the nick of time. Jim would live to see another sun rise.

Along with their Platoon Leader, Sergeant Lois *****, Private Bob *****, Private Rick *****, Specialist David ***** and Scout Tam Van Nguen, held up their last magazine of ammunition and looked silently and meaningfully into each other's eyes.

Their long-range patrol had run out of luck. Two days into the mission they were spotted by a battalion of enemy soldiers and, after a fierce chase and deadly firefight, they were cornered on a small hill overlooking a lush jungle panorama. The well-armed enemy was preparing for a final assault; one that would see the small team wiped out. Surrender, torture and mutilation was not an option.

Suddenly, from out of the sky helicopter gunships appeared and started pounding the enemy, forcing them to retreat into the thickly wooded jungles. Another helicopter landed and the exhausted team quickly climbed aboard. As they lifted into the freedom of the sky, they noticed their Platoon Leader still talking on the radio, calling in more air strikes on the demoralized enemy below. His determination had saved them all from certain death.

These ugly events could go on and on, but by now you have grasped the fact that without the intervention of their Platoon Leader, these men and many others in similar situations would never have returned home to their loved ones. Their names would have been carved beside their friends on the Vietnam Memorial. Due to the timely actions of one man, they lived to have families, to grow older, grow wiser, and to thank God for saving them.

When I was born, my birth father grabbed me from my mother's hands and was about to throw me from the window of a three story building when he was stopped by my uncle, who was fortunately in the room at the time.

His angry reasoning was simple, he did not believe that I was his child. Seven months earlier he had accused my mother of adultery and insisted she have an abortion, a claim she refuted.

However, my mother did not believe in abortion. To her life was sacred, given by God and could only be taken away by God. She stood firm and resolute and refused to have me murdered after conception. She believed firmly in the bible verse: "Thou Shall Not Murder." (Genesis 20:13). Subsequently, I grew to adulthood without a father, and too often, without a mother.

But, I did grow up, and at the age of seventeen I joined the United States Army and went into the combat arms. In 1968 at the height of the Vietnam War, I found myself in the depths of hell. I was a Platoon Leader, responsible for the life and death of the men under my command.

Some of these young men you met in the paragraphs above, many others you will find on the Vietnam Memorial. Not all could be saved, but for those many who did make it safely home it was because of an audacious young Platoon Leader, and even more so, because a determined and stubborn mother held to her Christian beliefs and -- chose life!

I learned why God saves some and let others die. It was to save those who needed his love.