The heat was unbearable, even after months in Vietnam. We proceeded cautiously through the triple canopy that blocked most of the sunlight above us. It was an eerie feeling, as it was absolutely still — no birds or monkeys, just quiet as we moved through the jungle. We were just south of the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ) between North and South Vietnam.

As we penetrated deeper into the valley, we discovered well-camouflaged bunkers; suddenly, the jungle erupted with gunfire from every direction. We stumbled into a North Vietnamese regimental basecamp. Our undermanned company of Marines was surrounded by thousands of NVA soldiers. Marines dropped left and right under the withering fire.

We fought for our lives for three days in the valley, at times in hand-to-hand combat as the enemy attempted to overrun our positions. Five helicopters were shot down the first day. After that they were barred from trying to remove our dead and wounded. The smell of bodies after several days is something I will never forget.

In 1991, I was on my fifth trip back to Vietnam. I was a team leader with a group of Christian veterans working to meet the needs of the Vietnamese people. I was negotiating our next project at a polio orphanage in Saigon when I met an NVA Colonel. Knowing we were veterans, the conversation always began with, “When were you here? Where did you serve?” It was then I realized the Colonel was the commanding officer of the regiment that nearly wiped out my company.

The Colonel was shocked. Asian culture was all about saving face. We had completed a project making him look good, but I lost many friends because of him. Through our Buddhist interpreter, Hinh, he asked why we helped his people. He told us both the Ford and Carnegie Foundations had come wanting to help, but they left and never came back.

He said it may have seemed small to us, but it meant a lot to them. Why would we want to help them? I looked at the Colonel sitting across the table with nearly a dozen government officials and said, “Sir, Jesus Christ has healed all of the pain I suffered from my time in the war. Because of that, I can say I love you and Jesus loves you!” That’s when Hinh began to weep. The officials across the table looked shocked, staring at us three Americans. For a moment I thought, “Here we are, outnumbered again!”

“Awkward” was not a thing in 1991, but it was certainly awkward in that moment. It took several minutes for Hinh to stop crying, and she told the Colonel what I said. His eyes opened wide, looking at her, then at me. He got up and came around the long conference table. I stood up and faced him. He then threw his arms around me with tears streaming down his face.

We held each other for what seemed like a long time. He held my shoulders and said something to Hinh. She looked at me and said, “He wants me to tell you he’s never had an enemy tell him he loved him!” Now everyone had tears.

Last week I talked about the power of forgiveness. For over four years after I was wounded for the third time, the ghosts of Vietnam tormented my soul. A hatred for my enemy lay just below the surface and threatened anyone who came too close to my pain. One night Jesus revealed Himself to me. I surrendered to His love and was forgiven all of my sins. Then something happened. Because I had been forgiven so much, I had no choice but to forgive those who had hurt me. That included my former enemy, who then became my friend.

What are you carrying that has burdened you down for years? Isn’t it time to let go, forgive, and be forgiven? Freedom from the past is a prayer away. I remember everything, but the pain of those memories is gone.

Something to pray about!
Semper Fidelis