Chapter 4: A Portal to Hell

     

      As I sat there peering across the river, day turned to night. At some point, I slowly lifted my gaze from the tree line toward the star-studded sky above me. What I saw unexpectedly stirred some forgotten feelings deep inside. The magnificent view of the heavens seemed to reach into some lost part of my soul. A feeling of peace, which I had not felt in a long time, flooded over me. For a fleeting moment, the deep fear that had been festering inside the inward parts of my mind began to dissipate. The weight of the subconscious but ever-present feeling that I was standing in line to die seemed to roll off my shoulders as if I had shed a heavy shroud. As I continued gazing upward at those stars, a thought surfaced—one that I had not dared to think since waking up in this hellish place. Yes, for the first time since joining my unit, I allowed a dream to surface, one which I previously believed was gone forever. "What if I made it home?" the dream asked. As I allowed myself to entertain that enticing question, I began to imagine myself once more standing in the backyard of my grandfather’s farmhouse located in the beautiful Shenandoah Valley. I could see myself looking up at the same dazzling array of stars splattered across the night sky, and that vision brought a haunting hope, fragile and fleeting, but at least it was hope. For the first time since arriving in this awful place, I began to allow myself to consider the possibility of living through this terrible time. Yes, I began, just for an instant, to allow myself to dream.   

 

     But I was not the only dreamer, dreaming dreams that night. While I was gazing at the stars, allowing hope to creep into my thoughts, that "ole" dragon was dreaming too, and, left to his devices, in the next few minutes, it would be his dreams that came true, not mine. The pale horse of death was on its way, and no man would be able to stop it. In less than an hour, I would be dead. Charlie Bell would be dead. The other man with us would die too. Death in Vietnam often came to us grunts suddenly and without warning—not in the middle of a chaotic battle where one might expect it, but in moments of quiet, in the eerie stillness of that moment. The demons that had tormented me for so long would have to find someone else to haunt because I was well on my way to my long sleep. After that, I would rise to behold the face of my Savior, Jesus Christ. My soul was secure. I had confessed Christ as Lord at an early age. I had been made into a new creation, and my name was already written in the Book of Life. But my earthly legacy would be lost.