Blind Noncombatants

The truck gently vibrates beneath me as it hums along the country road. I yawn and stretch lazily. Glancing out the open window, I can see we are still moving along at a rapid clip. The air rushing into the cab is predominantly warm, but an occasional cold gust makes me shiver. Winter’s hold was only recently broken in these parts, and its chill bite still lingers in the shadows cast by the occasional stand of trees. But the sun is warm, and life is good.

I wonder how the men in the back are doing. I lean out the window and see the other three trucks following closely behind us. It’s rather cold out here in the wind, but the men in the back are likely quite comfortable, sheltered as they are by the canvas covering. Reassured, I sit back in my seat.

Today’s mission should be an easy one, if all goes well. The platoon commander and executive officer are both down with some kind of fever, so it fell to me to lead the mission. My platoon is tasked with securing and holding a bridge over a nearby river. Though not technically within our lines, the town guarding the bridge should be friendly to our forces and little resistance is expected. I smile. It’s a good day to be a soldier for the Commander.

The driver slows and I look up, startled out of my reverie. I see we are approaching the outskirts of the town. I check my weapon to be sure it’s armed and ready, and then peer alertly out the window. A moment later, we have reached our dropoff point. I thank the driver, jump out of the cab, and signal to the officers in the trucks behind me. The trucks disgorge their loads, and seconds later, a well-secured perimeter is set up. I peer around the corner of an abandoned warehouse at the main street. No hostiles in sight. The vehicles rumble away and we are left alone.

I motion to my men and we begin a rapid but careful advance toward the river, avoiding the main street. A short time later, we arrive at the bridge. There are still no enemies to be seen, but I will take no chances. I send a sniper team across the bridge to scan the surrounding countryside. The land across the river is open fields, bordered by a dark forest a half-mile distant.

My radio squawks.

“Gold team, clear.” A pause. “I don’t like this, sir. Anything could be in those woods.”

“Understood. Hold your position.” I couldn’t agree more with his assessment. The town was quiet on the walk from the dropoff point…too quiet. I ponder my options. “Red team, set up a perimeter around the bridgehead. Make sure to deploy those heavies. Green team, take up positions in the bunkers defending the bridge. Blue team, hold here, but keep those mortars ready. Engineers, rig this bridge up with all the C4 you’ve got. If we can’t have it, neither will they.” I furrow my brow in thought. “Comm?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Get me coordinates on that treeline. If things go nuts, I want air support yesterday.”

A few moments later, all is secured. The main column should arrive in less than twelve hours. All we have to do is wait.

“Hey!” A shout catches my attention. A solitary man strides angrily toward us from a bar near the bridge. “You warmongerers get out of here! You’ll scare away my customers!”

“It’s ok, sir.” I step toward him, my hands held out soothingly. “We’re here for your protection.”

“Don’t give me any of that! I know your kind!”

“Sir, please calm down. There may be enemies inbound on this position, and we need to hold this bridge. We are not going to bother—“

“Get OUT of this town!”

The angry barkeeper’s shouts are starting to draw attention. I notice other townspeople beginning to gather.

“You and your kind…” He leans close, spewing saliva on me with every word. “You are so intolerant! Why can’t you just go home?! There are no enemies!” The way he said “enemies” made it very clear what he thought.

The crowd is growing larger and begins to offer vocal support to the barkeeper. I mutter to myself and try to calm him down.

“Sir, I can assure you that there are enemies out there. Please calm down; we are only here for your protection.”

“ENOUGH!” he explodes. Turning to the large crowd behind him, he cries, “Are we going to put up with this?”

“No!” they bellow, and surge forward. I tighten my hands on my weapon. We cannot shoot civilians. At the worst, we would be forced to fall back and abandon the bridge.

“I’ll show you how stupid you are,” the barkeeper snarls at me. “I’ll show you myself. Come on!” Waving to the crowd behind him, he shoves past me and stomps down the bridge. The townspeople follow him, shooting me hateful stares as they pass.

“Stop!” I plead. “The enemy is out there!” They laugh in derision and continue their mad rush. They sweep past my befuddled soldiers and mass at the far end of the field.

“See?!” I faintly hear the barkeeper shout. “No enemy soldiers! What a surprise!”

“Come back!” I shout desperately. “You’ll all be killed!”

“Nonsense!” he bellows. “There is no Enemy, and no Commander! It’s all a sham! It’s all—”

His words are swallowed as gunfire erupts from the wood. He falls instantly. I groan in anguish and grab my radio.

“Red team, suppression fire!” I hear the chatter of our heavy machine guns raking the treeline. Yet the woods still spit bullets. Two more townspeople fall, and then five more. Incredibly, they are still dancing about field, screaming about the lack of enemies and taking no notice of their fallen friends.

“Aargh!” I grit my teeth. “Blue team, fire on the treeline! Comm, get me that air support! Snipers free; green and red teams, advance! We’ve got to get those civilians out of there!” As I finish my orders, I hear the “whump” of firing mortars behind. The rounds emit an unearthly whine as they speed overhead. I grab my weapon and dash madly at the woods with my men, firing wildly. Stealthy shapes scream across the river. The treeline erupts in fire, yet townspeople are still falling.

I nearly curse in frustration as I load another clip. Why are they so blind?

* * * * *

In this great war that we fight, there are many noncombatants. All believers in the King are soldiers, yet there are those that have not believed. These are the unarmed, the sheep of the great war that embroils our existence.

There are some sheep that choose simply not to get involved in the battle. These are the most foolish, because they see (or claim to see) the realities at stake, yet still refuse to join the fight.

There are also sheep that see the battle, yet join the wrong army. These unknowing saboteurs try to join the fight, yet end up doing more harm than good.

Then there are sheep that not only refuse to join the battle, but also deny its very existence. They claim that there is no battle, that there is no Enemy, and that there is no King. They can become very vehement when confronted with the true existence of any of these. These are to be pitied, for they are truly blind.

My brothers, do not hate the noncombatants, especially those that are completely blind. Though they seem antagonistic, the Enemy has covered their eyes and stuffed their ears with cotton. Do not tear them down with your words. Speak to them, yes, but let your speech be gentle and wise. And pray to the King, that he might open the eyes of the blind.

My Captain, make me as wise as a serpent and as gentle as a dove.

I'm Back!!

~~~~UPDATED

Ok, so college was a lot busier than I expected it to be. Dumb me...getting a highly technical degree and yet still thinking I would have free time. *rolls eyes* Oh well. I'm back in my hometown for the summer now, and I'm ready to dive back into blogging! God poked me this morning about getting involved again and making the most of the technology at my disposal, so here goes. I hope to be writing a lot again, as well as participating in some lively debates. =) Check back often to see what's new. Also, check out my personal blog at:

http://nwtoflorida.blogspot.com

~~~~UPDATED

I have gotten settled in (for the most part) at college, so I think I can safely re-open my blog! I need to do some updating of my profile, but I anticipate writing again soon, so check back often to see what's new!

A Brief Hiatus

As you may have noticed, it's been a long time since I've updated this blog! I apologize for the delay, but I'm afraid it's about to get longer. I am currently finalizing things for my first semester at Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University in Daytona Beach, FL. Add to this that I am going to Russia this summer on a missions trip, writing for a small magazine, and working full time, and you have a very busy person! So, this post is to announce that I am going to take a break from this blog for a while until I can find more time to write. However, I would encourage you to check out this magazine I'm writing for! Send me an e-mail at FlightofDragons@comcast.net and I can hook you up with the editors.

I'll hopefully be back in a couple months. You'll know when I'm back because I'll start commenting on your blogs again. :)

God Bless!

A Soldier of ONE

Friendly Fire

My heart tries to pound its way out of my chest. My breathing is quick and ragged. Sweat trickles down my forehead despite the chill air. I wipe it away with an unsteady hand. Clutching my rifle tightly, I peer into the night. A soldier shifts nervously, cracking a stick under his foot. I whip my head around to glare at him before returning my gaze to the darkened forest. Minutes tick by. Perhaps it was only a raccoon. They are nocturnal creatures. It didn't have to be an enemy soldier.

I take a deep breath and let it out shakily. Motioning to the patrol behind me, I quietly press on into the night.

The surprise armor assault had hit my section of the line extraordinarily hard. Of the twenty-eight men in my platoon, eighteen had been killed or wounded. Reinforcements had arrived promptly, but all were fresh out of basic training. They were little more than boys. Still wet behind the ears. Not guaranteed to stand in the heat of battle. I had been raised to a sergeant and told to keep an eye on the new arrivals.

Our platoon commander had been killed in the attack as well. My new CO, an ambitious but naive lieutenant, had ordered a patrol to assess the enemy's strength on our section of the line.

So this is how I find myself sneaking through the night with five trigger-happy boys behind me. Suicide.

The wind gusts suddenly, bringing a faint sound. I freeze. Nothing. I listen nervously. There it is again! It sounds like human speech. Dropping to all fours, I crawl forward silently. The patrol follows.

A moment later, a large building is visible through the trees. It appears to be a command center. I can see enemy soldiers going in and out constantly. There must be a large concentration of troops in this area. I watch for a few moments, making notes. In a short time, I get a good idea of the enemy's strength on this part of the line.

Motioning silently to the boys behind me, I retreat back towards our line in the same stealthy manner. We are within a few hundred yards of our line now. I begin to breathe a little easier. Surely we're safe no----

Tracers arc through the night as gunfire rips apart the silence. The branches over my head splinter. I dive to the ground. One of the boys behind me cries out and falls backwards. The rest drop flat, yelling incoherently.

I shout in fear and rage as the bullets streak through the air over me.

"CEASE FIRE!!! We are friendlies! For goodness sake, cease fire!!"

A moment later, the gunfire quiets. I rise unsteadily to my feet and look back at my patrol. Four boys clamber up shakily. One lies unnaturally still. I grit my teeth and look towards our line. A group is gathering. A young recruit stands before his foxhole, his weapon trailing in the dust. I can clearly see the agony on his face as he realizes what he has done.

Tears fill my eyes and I set my jaw as I turn away. Friendly fire. The worst kind of casualty.

* * * * *

Wars are never pleasant. No one enjoys the pain and anguish that such conflicts bring. Soldiers respond to the agony differently. Some draw more deeply from the King's Word and use it to salve their wounds. Others turn their pain onto those around them, taking their suffering out on those they love.

The enemy enjoys hurting soldiers in whatever way he can. He especially enjoys it when soldiers do his job for him by harming each other.

Suffering is a hard thing to bear. It can sometimes be easy for soldiers to let the pain distract them from the reality that their loved ones are not their enemy. Sometimes they rip into their friends and family with their words and deeds, acting out of their hurting hearts. They do not realize the damage they are causing.

Such casualties are a waste. Friendly fire is a horrible thing.

My comrades, I know the suffering you are experiencing. Pain is hard to bear. Yet the King is able to salve your wounds. Take your pain to Him. Do not let your suffering blind you to the realities of friend and enemy. Do not take down your loved ones with friendly fire.

My Captain, watch over my words and actions.

It's Here!

The first issue of Regenerate Our Culture was today!! Check it out!

Fully Engaged

My sleep is filled with fitful dreams. Terrible shapes haunt the night. They shadow me as I move through the forest. I can hear them growling, a low rumble that seems to grow louder by the second. Demonic laughter echoes in the treetops. Something leaps at me out of the dark. I whirl to face bared fangs and scream in terror.

I sit up shaking and wipe an unsteady hand across my brow. My heart is trying to pound its way out of my chest. Waves of adrenaline still course through my body, slowly receding as I come back to the waking world. I listen nervously to the night around me. I hear nothing but the sigh of the wind in the trees and a far-off rumble.

I settle back down into my blanket with a relieved sigh and smile sheepishly at my own fantasies. The rumble grows louder.

What rumble?

I jump to my feet and peer into the night beyond my foxhole, my senses on full alert. The wind gusts briefly and I lose the sound. It comes back, louder than ever. Instantly, I know what it is. An armored column!

I grab my helmet and jump out of my hole. I must warn the commander of the imminent threat. They sound as if they are head--

A violent hand picks me up and throws me through the air. I land with a grunt, losing my breath. The thunder of the concussion shatters the night air. Dirt and rocks from the shell's impact rain down on my battered body. I crawl forward, trying desperately to find shelter.

Flashes illuminate the other side of the clearing. I grovel in the dirt as the night is torn apart around me. I am tossed about like a rag doll by the explosions. Squirming forward, I search desperately for a foxhole, any place to find shelter from the attack. I can see the massive tanks lumbering into the clearing. Foot soldiers run alongside the armor.

A hole appears in front of me. I slither into it face first and lie panting on the bottom like a fish in a boat.

An electronic beep catches my attention.

I sit up and realize I am not alone. A soldier slouches on the other side of the hole, appearing totally engrossed in a handheld electronic device. He is playing a GameBoy.

My mouth drops open in disbelief.

"Hey!" I shout.

"What?" He doesn't even look up.

"What are you doing?!"

"Playing Super-Duper Mario 10,000. What's it look like?"

"Don't you realize we're under attack?! For crying out loud, there's a war on!" I can feel the earth-shaking whump of mortars. The crackle of small arms joins the cacophony.

The soldier remains engrossed in his game.

"Is there? That's nice. It doesn't concern me very much."

I stare at him in disbelief. "But you're a soldier! Of course it concerns you!"

He shrugs noncommittally. I realize my mouth is hanging open and I close it with a snap. Rising to my feet, I look down at the soldier in sorrow and a bit of irritation. I realize there is nothing I can do for him right now. The Commander will have to deal with him.

With a sigh, I chamber a round in my rifle.

* * * * * *

A war rages among us. Most true soldiers see the reality of this war, their eyes opened by the Captain. Few will deny the truth that we fight battles every day. Yet not every soldier is a fighter.

The enemy is very crafty. He knows he cannot ultimately triumph through an all-out frontal assault. Yet he is unwilling to simply accept defeat. He continually plots new ways to entrap the King's soldiers and make them useless.

He found one of his greatest weapons in modern culture. Using the attraction that the world holds for mankind, he draws in many soldiers and catches their attention with temporal things. He gets them totally immersed in the culture. More often than not, they soon forget about the things of the King.

Thus the enemy neutralizes many soldiers without striking a blow.

Far too many soldiers are so completely engaged in the world that they do little in the King's service. They maintain their faith and keep their relationship with the Captain free from reproach, but they are not doing harm to the enemy. They pose little threat to him.

These inactive soldiers go through their life just living. They never truly step out in faith and carry the war to the enemy. They appear to have a fulfilling life, but they do not experience the joy and exhilaration that the Captain gives when His soldiers fight well. They are on the front lines, but they might as well be in reserve for all the good they are doing.

My comrades, examine your life carefully. How much are you doing for the King? Have you become so caught up in the cares of this world that you have been neutralized? Do not go through your life in such a state. Step out, dust off your weapon, and go to war. You cannot fall. The war has already been won.

My Captain, keep me in the front lines.

Regenerate Our Culture

This is a departure from my normal format to cover a couple of things. I will rarely make a post that does not follow the usual allegorical style, but I will occasionally post in this fashion to cover important issues.

I want to mention the new web magazine called Regenerate Our Culture. It's created and edited by such blogging giants as "Agent Tim" and "Spunky Jr." I have just become a sponsor and I expect this magazine to really take off. Its focus is on trying to regenerate our culture by taking a stand on pertinent issues facing us as Americans and as Christians. Take a look!

Regenerate Our Culture

Corrupted Rations

I stare at my friend's retreating back. Putting Denney out of my head, I turn and wander down the line. Greetings follow me.

"Jensen! How's it going, bro?"

"Hey hey, look who's here!"

"What's up, man?"

"Jensen buddy, good to see ya!"

I smile to myself. When every day might be the last for your friends, you are always happy to see them alive.

Ahead, I see a group of men clustering around a supply truck. Making my way through the crowd, I see that our weekly supply of rations has been delivered. I wait in line with the rest.

After receiving my rations, I head back up the line toward my foxhole. I smile at the soldiers who greet me. One soldier catches my attention. He pays no mind to me or anything else as he sits with his back to the world. I squat in front of his foxhole.

"How's it going, Bill?"

He jumps and spins around.

"Jensen! I didn't know you were there. I, uh..." He hastily shoves something orange under his pack. He seems to be genuinely happy to see me, but his eyes refuse to meet mine. "How are things on your section of the line?"

"Bill..." I sigh, "Are you still eating those old S-rations?"

He fidgets.

"Why would you think that?"

"Come on, Bill. Be honest with me."

He looks at his boots dejectedly.

"Alright. Yes, I am."

"Why? You know they're bad. For crying out loud, the enemy poisoned them!"

"I know, but they taste so good! Well..." He scuffs at the dirt with his toe. "At first, anyway."

"Bill," I say sympathetically, "I know how you feel. They do taste great. But they are harmful in the end. A little poison now doesn't seem to hurt anything, but it will take a toll on you later. Besides, we have clean food now. Before we knew the S-rations were bad, we didn't have a choice of what to eat. But now we do! You don't have to keep eating the poisoned food!"

He sighs.

"I know, Jensen. I just can't help myself. Please leave me alone."

He turns away from me and stares into the forest. I open my mouth to say more, but decide against it. I rise to my feet and look at my friend. He knows I am still here, but ignores me. Shaking my head in sorrow, I continue back up the line.

I grumble to myself. I think it would be better if no S-rations are available for the soldiers at all, but High Command refuses to discontinue them. Something about part of the soldier's training being to learn to make right choices. The supply personnel certainly don't help with those choices. Flighty and giggling, the girls almost seem to encourage soldiers to get the S-rations.

I sigh. Just another battle in the war that I fight.

* * * * * *

Battles rage over every aspect of life. We fight battles day-by-day without even realizing it. Struggles over what we watch, think, do, and say are a continual part of normal life. Every person has different battles to wage. Not one person is tempted exactly the same as another. But there is one area that all men struggle with.

Purity.

The King designed men to be visually stimulated. It is very easy for men's passions to be awakened. Even more so than women, men struggle with keeping their minds and hearts pure and free from lust.

Many men fall into cleverly-devised traps of the enemy's making. Falling prey to their runaway desires, they engage in fleshly activities that indulge their lust and feed their cravings. They feel on top of the world for a brief moment as the rush hits. Afterward, they feel like rotting maggots squirming under the gaze of a righteous King.

Tragically, too many men do not realize the truth of the Captain's sacrifice: They are freed to not indulge their flesh. Before the Captain opened their eyes, they did not know that what they did was harmful. Now they see the truth of the enemy's traps and can freely choose to avoid them. They are freed to drink the Living Water instead of the world's polluted water.

However, the enemy does not give up easily.

Even though the soldiers' eyes are open, he still tries to ensnare them. He fills their heads with lies, telling them that it doesn't really matter in the end. What will it hurt? It's my life; I'll do as I please. Or he weakens their mind by telling them that they can't help themselves. I know I'm addicted, but it's too late for help. I can't do anything about it.

The enemy is sometimes assisted by female soldiers who don't realize what they are doing. Attempting to attract male soldiers, they act in a way that is not proper or wear clothing that is not modest. They frequently don't even realize that they are making their brothers stumble.

It would seem easier if the King simply removed all sources of temptation from the soldier's life after his eyes were opened, but He does not. It is enough that the soldier is freed to make right choices. It would not benefit us, nor bring glory to the Captain's name if His soldiers only obeyed Him because they had no other choice.

My comrades, do not continue drinking the world's water. I know well the attraction that the rush holds. Yet it is all vanity. It will not last, while the joy that comes from drinking the Living Water lasts forever. Leave the world's filth and be free.

My sisters, do not make your brothers stumble. Please carefully examine your motives for your actions and the way that you dress. Let the King bring the right man to you in his time. Do not try to take matters into your own hands by attracting men to you with your body.

Glory to the Captain who has set us free to choose His water. It is no choice at all. How is a choice between joy eternal and soiled guilt really a choice?

My Captain, thank you for your sacrifice.