David and Me
November 1, 2013
I was again today reminded how precious life is. I saw a story on TV about a soldier in the Army who came home from Iraq and has been unable to adjust; he committed suicide. My heart goes out to him and his family; only God knows “the trouble he’s seen”. It made remember when I was stationed down at Ft Polk, LA as a young Specialist 4th Class, full of ideals and enthusiasm. I thought I had the world by the tail. I was a member of the Fifth Infantry Division. I dreaded the morning PT runs that seemed like they would never end, but afterward I always felt a sense of accomplishment when the run was over.
The First Sergeant gave the briefing that nobody went downtown Leesville alone, you always had to go in pairs. I remember one weekend especially when myself and what the Army calls my “battle buddy”, my friend David, went downtown one Saturday to a section of town called The Crossing. He had met a young lady a few weeks prior and wanted to pay her a visit. When we drove down, there were fifty or sixty people standing on corners selling drugs. They could tell by our haircuts that we were young solders not from that town. We parked the car and he went to knock on the lady’s door. It seemed like every eye within a four block radius was looking at us. We were well dressed and mannerable young men. As we approached the young lady’s residence, we saw another woman walking toward us with what looked to be a ten or eleven year old child walking behind her. She stopped to talk to three or four drug dealers standing there in an open area and I could hear her talking as I stood there by a three foot high hurricane fence adjacent to the house we were going to visit. She was clearly there to buy drugs to feed her addiction, but there was something more terrible than that going on. She was going to sell her daughter to the one of the drug dealers for twenty dollars worth of crack cocaine. The little girl looked as frightened as one could look; standing there behind these grown adults who were bartering to do God knows what with her. I knew, and my friend knew, that it was none of our business, but who could let that pass? I was a twenty year old soldier with my future ahead of me; the smart thing to do would be to walk away and keep walking. But I guess that’s why I was there, to say or do something. That’s how God works, he puts you in a position to say something or do something when it’s your time. And so, as one of the dealers said “yeah I’ll take that deal” I could see the terror and uncertainty in the little girl’s eyes and I told my buddy David, watch my back, I’ve gotta do something here. I said hey, you’re not going to touch that little girl, and told the woman, you’re not going to sell that little girl. David looked at me and I knew I could count on him if things got hairy, which I thought they would at any second. I don’t know why but I grabbed the woman and the little girl and said walk with us, we’re going to the car. When we got to the car the drug dealers were behind us and talking loudly about what they were going to do to us. We assumed they were all probably armed, but it didn’t stop us. I told the woman and the child to get in the back seat, and they got in. My heart was beating a hundred miles an hour because I didn’t know what would happen next. One of the guys said, “man you’re ‘effin with my money; I ought to kill both of you.” “Well, before you do something to this little girl,” I said, “that’s just what you’ll have to do”, not knowing that inside of me there was anger and fear. I wouldn’t call it courage; I would just say that David and I were just doing our part. One of the other guys said, “you know what, they’re soldier boys, just leave them alone. They’re leaving anyway, let ‘em go.” We got in the car and left, and took the woman home to her trailer. We stopped at Piggly Wiggly grocery store, I don’t know if Piggly Wiggly is still even a grocery now, but it was then, and bought $60 or $70 worth of groceries for the woman and her daughter and took them back home to her trailer.
David cursed me all the way back to Ft Polk, telling me “man, you’re gonna get me killed”, but he said it with a dry laugh. Once we passed through the front gate, he looked at me and I looked at him and we both just started laughing, and laughed all the way back to the barracks. And every time I saw him after that, no matter where we were we just looked at each other and laughed. I don’t know if David ever went back to visit the young lady he had met, probably not, but I do know that when I was a young enlisted soldier in the Army the values that were preached and taught that men lived and died for were what has sustained me throughout my life. Anytime I hear about a soldier in an unfortunate situation, my heart goes out to them and their families because all that I have and all that I am I owe a large percentage of that to the Army and the opportunities it gave me in life. It helped me pay for college tuition, it helped me believe in myself, it helped me believe I could do things I never thought possible, that all I had to do was put in the effort, and effort was the easy part. The Army gave me the opportunity; that’s the hard part in life—getting opportunity. I’ve always been an advocate of providing opportunity. Prepare yourself for opportunity and the effort determines the outcome.
I don’t know what happened to that little girl and her mother, but I hope they can say that at some point in their life, somebody cared. I don’t know the soldier that committed suicide, but I want his family to know that somebody still cares. So if you see a veteran today, give him or her hug and tell them thank you. If you have a veteran in your family or a friend, or neighbor, just tell them thank you; I’m sure it will bring a smile to their face.
