I WAS MEDEVACED TO THE UN COMPOUND and into surgery, where doctors removed shrapnel from my legs and foot. When I awoke in recovery, my first thought was Rob. Was he dead? I asked a nurse about him.
“He’s been in surgery,” she said. “He’s still critical. They’re going to medevac him to Germany.” I asked her to take me down to see him. He lay sedated in a bed at the other end of the ward, his face still pale and gray. Sitting in a wheelchair beside his bed, I laid my hand on Rob’s arm and prayed.
The next morning I asked to return to the airfield so I could be with the rest of the troops. I had to use crutches to get around, and spent most of that day on my bunk trying to recuperate. As I lay there, I began to pray. God, I need You to give me something to help me accept what has happened here. And I really need to come to closure on why this turned out so badly.
As I was praying, one of the communicators came to my bunk and handed me a fax. It came from a dear friend in Loveland, Colorado, Yale King. There was no message, only a Scripture verse, Isaiah 40:31: “For they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength. They shall mount up on wings of eagles, they shall run and not be weary and they shall walk and not faint.”
I can’t explain why Yale sent that fax halfway around the world when he did, but I felt it was exactly the message God wanted me to hear.
While trying to stay off my feet, I also wrote letters to each of the Delta families who lost sons, husbands, and fathers: Shughart, Gordon, Fillmore, Rierson, and Martin. I prayed and asked God to help me put into words how much each man meant to me personally, and to their Delta brothers. I explained their bravery, their commitment and their sacrifice. I paged through my Bible and tried to include Scripture I felt might comfort the families. As I penned each letter, I pictured each man in life and my heart broke again and again. Tears came, blurring the words as I wrote them.