I thank the Lord for the many opportunities and friendships that my enlistment in the Army National Guard has offered me, and for bringing me safely through my time in the war in Afghanistan. Those desert days are long behind me now, and although some emotional challenges remain, I often look back on them, as I do on other ages of my life, through the rosy lens of nostalgia that highlights the good moments and downplays the bad.
Back then, tasked with helping to establish an American presence in Afghanistan’s Farah Province, survival and well-being were far from assured. Our life and work weren’t easy, and I prayed to make it through each day.
One afternoon, my faith was tested, though not in the way you might expect.
Readers may remember my column from the beginning of the year about the crude nature of our human waste disposal practice before the septic system was installed on our new base. The sawed-off bottoms of fuel drums collected the foulest mixture in plywood port-a-potties. The stench burned one’s eyes and nose.
Army uniform regulations allow a soldier to wear a religious medallion such as a cross or Star of David on necklaces beneath a soldier’s shirt. My cross pendant offered a comforting reminder that the Lord was always with me.
Unfortunately my cross was old and a bit worn. Sometimes it fell off its chain. You can guess where this is going.
Yes, one blazing hot August day as I finished my business, I noticed my cross had fallen off its chain.
“No,” I whispered. I looked down at the nasty sludge. “Please, God. No.”
My cross wasn’t floating on top. I checked my shirt and chain again. It was gone, down in the muck. What could I do? The cross was a gift from my mother when I was confirmed in my church. It was important to me.
Also, we were in a remote outpost in a war zone. While I don’t believe in luck, I also do believe in luck a little bit. At the core of my being, I knew it was a bad idea to be in a war and leave Jesus in that sewage.
Of course that cross was not literally Jesus, and the Lord does forgive. But in a war zone halfway across the world, you don’t really feel like taking chances.
I pulled out the nasty barrel bottom and stared down at it, removing my uniform top, preparing to reach down into all that filth. I gagged.
My squad leader approached. “What the heck are you doing?”
I told him.
“That’s crazy!” he said.
“How can I pray for safety, but leave the cross in that mess?” I said. “You wanna risk going on patrols after that?”
He thought it over. “Well, wash your hands after. Use soap.”
I tried to hold my breath as I leaned over the can, praying that I might find the cross quickly. As I reached down, fingertips inches from the event horizon, a thought hit me.
If the cross had come off its chain in my tucked-in shirt, there was a chance it had gone into my pants which were tucked in my boots. I checked.
And lo, the cross was safe at the top of my boot.
I sighed and gave thanks to the Lord before putting it back on its chain. I was happy to have been spared from that disgusting search, feeling as if I’d passed a great test.
Thereafter, I was much more careful with that cross. And, thanks be to God, everyone in my unit made it safely home.
Trent Reedy served as a combat engineer in the Iowa Army National Guard from 1999 to 2005, including a year’s tour of duty in Afghanistan.
