I’m writing from a hospital. I'm wounded, but doctor says I’ll be fine.
I have a story to tell you mom, and you will know it to be true. Do you
recall the prayer of St. Michael? The one we recited before I left for Korea,
well it became my Mantra here. We were given orders to move forward
and scout the Commies. I walked alone in the cold until I felt someone join me.
It was a Marine, one I didn’t recall seeing here before. Glad to have his company,
I broke the silence “Chilly today, isn’t it?” It seemed absurd talking about weather
while heading into enemy territory. “How come I have never seen you before?”
“I've just arrived, my name is Michael.” I said, “Really, that’s mine, too.”
“I know,” said the Marine. “Michael of the morning” Mom, I was surprised that
he knew about my prayer. I thought, maybe he heard it from the marines who
nick named me “St. Michael” Then, out of the blue, Michael said, “There’s going
to be trouble up ahead.”
I wondered how he knew. I was breathing hard against the cold, but Michael appeared
in top shape. I couldn’t see his breath. It began to snow heavily, soon the density was so deep I could no longer hear or see a thing. I got scared so I yelled, “Michael.” A strong hand touched my shoulder, “It’s going to clear up soon.”
It cleared but soon after, seven Commies aimed their guns at us. “Down, Michael!!”
I yelled as I hit the ground. Michael stood there motion- less. As the bullets flew, I knew there was no way those Commies could have missed. I pulled Michael down,
and got shot. Pain shot through me as I fell. My last thought was, “I must be dying” Someone lay me down, as strong arms held me tight. In a daze I saw the sun and
Michael hovering over with a radiant splendor in his face. He grew larger than the sun,
increasing in intensity until he was nothing else but light and airy wings. He was
holding a sword in his hand. It flashed like a million lights in the stoic air.
To be continued...