Everything began to fade to black.
In the background, Behr could still hear the noise. And where it had once been loud, it was now muffled. Just like he was wearing earplugs.
Behr tried to fight the drowsiness, but it was easier to close his eyes. And when he did, he thought about family and friends back in the Quad Cities. Growing up in a Christian home, he was taught to have faith. And as a teenager, he did. He never questioned God or His ways. His faith was still strong.
But this was grim, and he was pessimistic about the chances of getting off the mountain alive. Bullets were everywhere. There was no letup in the battle. They were trapped. Not that he was giving up. He was just being realistic. Behr wanted to make peace with God, so he whispered a prayer.
“God, I know that I haven’t always been the greatest person and I can’t promise that if I live I will be the best person or change everything. But if You want me to live and carry on, make it so. If not, then I guess I’m ready to go.”
Behr had just put his faith in God, and after the prayer he felt a sense of calm envelop his soul. No matter what happened to him on this day—whether he lived or died—things were going to be fine. He was at peace—until he felt a sharp smack across his face. Stunned, he opened his eyes and Shurer was standing over him.
“Wake up, Dillon,” he shouted.
“Holy shit.”
Behr was awake and alert, and he took that as a sign from God that he wasn’t supposed to die—at least not yet.