I was aware of the Vietnam War, but I wasn't worried about it. After all, I was seventeen (17) and at that age I believed that I’d live forever. I also believed that forever was living to be no older than thirty-five (35) years old. When I joined the Marines I didn't do it with the intent of going to Vietnam, but I knew that was a possibility. Everything the drill instructors said and did was to prepare us to learn how to hate and kill the enemy. We were taught to hate people on the other side of the world for no other reason than they were declared the enemy of America. We were taught to dehumanize the Vietnamese so it would be easier to kill them. They became gooks, slope heads, chinks, commies, Charlie, dinks, VC and a whole host of other vernaculars that I never heard of before. We were taught that because they were all those things that made them America's enemies and it was our duty, in fact, our privilege to dispatch them from the earth. By then the DI’s got into my head and I wanted to go to Vietnam. I was motivated to do what needed to be done.
Before the end of basic training, we were taught how to kill with our bare hands, a bayonet, a wire or rope, a rifle, a pistol, a law rocket, a bazooka, a claymore, a grenade, C-4, a flame thrower and even a rock if that’s all we had. By the end of basic training and advanced infantry training we were molded into killing machines and we knew our mission. I wanted to go and defend America, collect war souvenirs and return with the ultimate prize – The Ear Necklace. We were ready to execute the things we learned. In all actuality we weren’t as bad as we thought we were, but our minds were right.
After completing training my orders sent me to Camp Lejeune, North Carolina to be part of a new company that was being formed. I was assigned to H&S Company, 3rd Battalion, 6th Marines, 2nd Marine Division. About half the Marines I trained with received orders to California which meant they were immediately destined for Vietnam. I felt cheated and disappointed, but I was sure my time would come. I was glad to be part of an organization of like-minded Marines who would die to protect me and I knew I would die to protect them. This is something you can't sufficiently explain to a civilian to understand because it's not in their DNA. Civilians want to be kept safe, but they don't want to know what sacrifices are made or the horrendous things that are done to keep them safe.
Upon my arrival at Camp Lejeune, I was assigned to a squad led by a Sergeant who was a combat veteran. You could tell from just the way he looked and the way he carried himself that he knew his stuff. He knew how to stay alive, and I wanted to learn everything I could from him. I was in awe of his presence and most of the time I was a little nervous just being around him. Since I was still expecting to end up in Vietnam when my Sergeant asked for volunteers for positions in the squad, I volunteered to be the machine gunner. I figured that when I went to Vietnam, I wanted the biggest gun available. I was given an M-60 machine gun and holy geez it was heavy. Carrying around an M-60 was no easy task, but it was my machine gun and that was all that mattered. I knew that if we ever got into something that the other Marines would rely on me to lay down fire and thunder and that was a good feeling.
As time went on, I would see other Marines get their orders for Vietnam and I kept wondering when I would get my chance. Eventually I made friends with Corporal Reeves who had served two tours in Vietnam. He was from Milwaukee, Wisconsin and his nickname was CCR because his favorite group was Creedence Clearwater Revival. He named himself Cool Cat Reeves (CCR). My thinking was that I’d call a combat veteran anything he wanted, but in this case the name fit him well. He had a yellow 1962 Corvette and he did everything with swag. On duty he was Corporal Reeves, but after hours everyone called him Cool Cat. He joined the Marines when he was twenty-six (26) years old so by all standards at that time he was considered an old man. Remember, I joined when I was only seventeen (17).
He didn’t seem to have much use or respect for officers and that surprised me. That wasn’t consistent with my training. He told me that most officers were useless in combat and only got in the way. He said that 2nd Lieutenants (Butter Bars) were expendable and that more come out of college every day. He went on to say that if they got in the way on a mission they were quickly dispatched. I wasn’t exactly sure what he meant by dispatched, but I didn’t want any clarification at that time. I think I was afraid of what his response might have been. I wanted to know everything he knew about combat, but I wasn’t ready to hear what he meant by that. He said that enlisted men just wanted to survive and return home to their loved ones, but officers wanted to win medals and get promoted. He told me that officers usually won their medals as a result of getting Marines killed in unnecessary missions or as a result of bad planning.
Many months later a directive came down from Command Headquarters and it named thirty (30) Marines who were going to receive orders to Vietnam. My name was on the list and even though this was something I was begging for earlier I suddenly had mixed feelings. I still wanted to go, but I was starting to doubt if I was combat ready or not. I was about a year and a half out of boot camp and by then I had flushed out all the bravado that the DI’s drilled into me. By then I was 18/19 and I saw the results of war from Marines who had returned. It wasn’t pretty and I knew that many of them were changed forever. I also had some friends who went and returned under the American Flag. I finally realized that I wouldn’t live forever and that my life could end tomorrow.
I sought out Corporal Reeves (Cool Cat) to tell him my good news and he immediately got upset. He told me that I was stupid for even wanting to go to Vietnam and that I’d probably get shot stepping off the plane. He told me to look around at the Marines in the unit and asked me if I wanted to end up like them. Finally, he said that I would be better off being killed quickly instead of coming home and remembering the things I would see and things I would have to do. Corporal Reeves told me that’s why he always drank when we were off duty so he could forget those things even for just a little while. He also said that is why he never answered my questions about his experiences in Vietnam. He just wanted to forget it ever happened. He told me that war is ugly and it’s one thing to do the things you have to do to survive, but another thing to come home and have to remember the things you did.
I felt bad that I upset Cool Cat, but I still felt like it was my duty. Besides, at that point in time it was out of my hands, orders are orders. A little less than thirty (30) days later I was called into the Executive Officer’s (XO) office with nine (9) other Marines. I assumed it was to pick up my orders and I was excited. When we all got there the XO notified us that Command modified the number from thirty (30) down to twenty (20) and that our names were removed from the list. He didn’t explain how we were selected, but I left his office disappointed and realized that since the war was winding down, I would never have another chance.
I returned to the squad bay and sat on my footlocker with my head down. Corporal Reeves came up to me and said, “What’s wrong dumbass?” I told him what I was just told and he laughed. He said that I would thank him some day. I asked him what he meant by that and he told me that when he heard that ten (10) Marines were being struck from the list he went to the Executive Officer and convinced him that I should be removed. I’m not sure exactly what he said, but whatever he said worked. Cool Cat put his hand on my shoulder and pulled me to my feet. Without waring he reached out and gave me a hug. That felt really weird. I don’t know what Marines do today, but back in those days Marines didn’t hug. The Navy hugged, the Air Force hugged, the Army hugged, but Marines didn’t hug. Corporal Reeves walked away and we never spoke about Vietnam again.
All of that brings me to this. Can a soldier who kills his enemy during war get to Heaven? How do you reconcile killing with God’s 6th Commandment (Thou Shalt Not Kill)? When I read the Ten Commandments, I don’t see any conditions or exceptions making it okay to violate that Commandment. I know that God set up some situations where people killed in order to survive, but was that sanctioned by God or was that just a test? What if the scenario is two enemies who both happen to be Christians meet on the battlefield and one kills the other? Can the survivor go to Heaven?
I’ve heard stories from combat veterans who said that before they went into battle, they would ask for forgiveness for the things they were about to do. I don’t know why you would expect forgiveness when at that point you can decide not to do something. It’s at that point you can say I plan to kill, or I have decided not to kill. During much of Jesus’ ministry he was ridiculed and taunted until finally he was crucified on the cross. Jesus never physically resisted his enemies and he never instructed his followers to use violence to defend him. Jesus tried to change hearts without violence.
When the Enola Gay crew dropped the atomic bomb on Hiroshima 60,000 to 80,000 civilians died instantly. It has been estimated that 237,000 people were killed directly or indirectly by the bomb's effects, including burns, radiation sickness, and cancer. When the same crew dropped the second bomb on Nagasaki it was estimated that between 40,000 and 75,000 people died immediately following the atomic explosion, while another 60,000 people suffered severe injuries. When did innocent civilians both women and children become the enemy? Did the crew of the Enola Gay go to Heaven?
During WWII the Germans dropped bombs on cities that killed defenseless and innocent civilians. The United States and our allies did the same thing to German cities. Ever since the beginning of man we have found reasons to stand opposite each other on the battlefield with the goal of killing each other. Are we justified in killing someone because our government tells us it's the right thing to do? Are we justified in killing someone who we've never met or who has never directly threatened us?
I’m not making any personal judgment here, but I am curious about how God weighs in on this. Can killing ever be justified in God’s eyes? During those early years I would still have done what I was ordered to do, but upon reflection I’m glad I didn’t go. Even now as an old man if I was called on to defend my country, I wouldn’t hesitate to meet that call. I just can’t help but wonder - Can Warriors get to Heaven?
In closing, if by some remote chance my old friend Corporal Reeves sees this post, I would like to tell him that he was right about what he said I would say to him someday. Thank you Cool Cat. I've thought of you often over all these years and remember all the good times we had serving together. I hope someday we'll meet again in Heaven.
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