A War Story

When he returned from war, he never wanted to touch another gun. He never wanted to smell gun smoke in the air. He never wanted to see blood staining the ground again. Family and friends knew he had served in the military. He never told anyone his stories. They all knew it was best not to ask. But, they were still there in his heart and mind. It was partly because of the way they were yelled at and spit on when they came home. He didn’t want to remember that or the war.

Sometimes though, he could still hear the sounds of bombs exploding, the whir of helicopter blades. He could still feel the ground rumble as tanks went by, and he would remember. He awoke some nights to the screaming of wounded buddies and lay there in the dark with his eyes open for hours as his wife slept peacefully beside him. He kept it all hidden from those he loved.

They had no idea he also felt guilty because he got to come home, raise a family, and have a good life. So many of his buddies did not get to do that. It even bothered him at times that he escaped the nightmare of that place with no visible scars or missing limbs. He was one of the lucky ones, but he didn’t see it that way. He had scars. They remained hidden in his heart and soul.

No one said anything, but they probably wondered why he didn’t want to watch war movies or any movies or TV shows involving shooting and killing. He would even walk out of the room when the news came on. He didn’t want to see or hear anything about people shot or killed.

When friends tried to get him to go deer hunting, he politely declined with some excuse. One of his grown sons got into hunting with friends. He told his dad how much he enjoyed it and that it was not just about killing a deer. It was about all the special moments out in the woods with his kids or alone, even if he did not get a deer. The grandkids also encouraged him to join them on a hunt.

He had an excuse every time they asked. He declined them as he had his friends. Then one day, he saw the disappointment on the faces of the kids and the pleading eyes of his son when they asked once again. “Okay,” he said, “Teach me what I need to know to hunt these deer.” He could not believe he said that, but then he saw the smiles of joy on his son’s and grandkids’ faces. He would do this for them.

His son loaned him one of his rifles, and they went out to practice. When he took the rifle in his hands, thoughts of all the times he held an M16 rifle crossed his mind. He took a deep breath before the first time he fired it and again had to wipe away memories going through his head. It got a little easier with each shot.

On the morning of the hunt, he got up and put on the camouflage hunting clothes his son had bought him. As his wife lay sleeping, he quietly poured a thermos full of coffee and waited for headlights to come up his driveway. He sat there and tried to concentrate on making good memories this day and not think about bad memories that had crowded his mind for years.

Lights shined through the window. He went out the door into the dark. His son said, “Are you ready for this?” “You are going to love it, papa,” said a grandchild from the back seat. He took a deep breath, sighed, and then smiled. “I will do my best,” he said. His son gave him lots of tips and told him stories of what to expect on the drive to the woods.

They pulled off the dirt road and parked. The grandkids’ were old enough to hunt on their own. They wished everyone good luck and went off to their favorite treestands. The son took his dad to an enclosed blind that he felt would be safer than having him try to climb a tree with a gun and sit in a stand when he had never done that. The son did not know his dad had done that many times a long time ago in a faraway place that he tries hard to forget.

The son wished his dad good luck and went off to his treestand. The dad sat there in the dark. The sun started peeking through the trees. The sky was a beautiful shade of orange. Birds started singing and fluttering around from limb to limb. A fox came walking through and had no idea he was there. Squirrels were digging in the dry leaves. His first thought was it sounded like the enemy advancing on his position. He dismissed that thought and enjoyed watching them.

The field he could see out the windows of the blind could have reminded him of battlefields, but it did not. The shots he heard in the distance might have put him on alert for advancing enemy soldiers in his mind, but they did not. He hoped it was one of his grandkids he heard, and they were successful.

At this moment, in this place, he silently talked to God. He asked his forgiveness for not thanking him before now. He thanked God for watching over him during the war and bringing him safely back home. He also thanked Him for creating all the beauty of nature that surrounded him that morning. He started thanking Him for his wife and family and was wiping a tear from his eye when he saw something in the field before him.

A buck entered the field with his nose to the ground. He was following the scent of a doe that had come through during the night. He remembered everything his son had told him. He raised the rifle, looked through the scope, and put the deer in the crosshairs. His heart raced as he clicked the safety off just as it had many years ago. He squeezed the trigger, gun smoke drifted through the air, and the buck dropped where it stood.

His son had not told him he could see the hunting blind and the field from his treestand. The buck had walked under his stand, and he did not shoot. He knew Dad had been in the war even though he never talked about it. He knew that Dad needed this moment. Hopefully to help free him of his nightmares.

Blood was on the field that morning as the son joined his father where the buck lay. They hugged, and the tears flowed. The grandkids joined them and hugged their papa too. They also knew papa had been through a war, but dad had told them not to ask him about it. They all dropped to their knees, put their hands on the buck, and bowed their heads to honor the deer for giving its life to help a troubled man heal. A war story was over.

If you or someone you know is looking for a church home we invite you to join us at the Sac River Cowboy Church at either of our locations: 6821 W Independence Dr. Springfield MO 65802 on Sunday morning at 8:30 and 10:00 or our Event Center at 6448 State Highway EE Springfield MO 65802 on Sunday morning at 10:00 and 11:30 or Thursday evening at 6:00pm with dinner served. You may also join us live online at https://www.facebook.com/sacrivercowboychurch or https://www.youtube.com/sacrivercowboychurch