Jane Cook - Stories of Faith and Courage from the War in Iraq and Afghanistan

As Carrie fought to stay awake, she noticed that the doctors were focusing more on David, even though he appeared to be okay.

Soon, armed American soldiers arrived to protect David and Carrie until the medics arrived, but precious minutes ticked by as the helicopters were shot at and unable to land. While they waited, two soldiers who professed to be Christians prayed over Carrie at her request.

At long last, the Army got the situation under control, and Carrie and David boarded two separate helicopters to the CSH unit. Once inside, Carrie heard David pray, “Jesus, we don’t know what is happening. Just help us.” Then, seeing Carrie across the hospital, he shouted out, “I love you! We’re gonna make it through this, baby!”

Lord, when I find myself in unfamiliar territory, be my guide and grant me peace.

“Be merciful to me, LORD, for I am faint; O LORD, heal me, for my bones are in agony.” (Psalm 6:2)

After being prepped for surgery, Carrie finally allowed herself to fall into the arms of a deep sleep. She awoke eight days later at Parkland Hospital in Dallas, Texas. Her mother, father, and sister were with her.

She had been hit twenty-two times by bullets and shrapnel. In the CSH unit, they immediately gave her a blood transfusion without first screening for antibodies, which is only done when the risk of death without the transfusion is extremely high.

For the first several days at Parkland Hospital, Carrie drifted in and out of consciousness, flooded by memories of the attack, a feeling of helplessness, and a longing to see her husband.

“Mama, where’s David? Tell David to come in,” she would say.

Finally, on the eighth day, when she was firmly lucid, her father spoke to her. “We have something to tell you,” he said softly. “Baby, David didn’t make it.” The room spun as Carrie’s mind and heart reeled at the shock of those words. She cried out in agony, but encased in casts and hooked to multiple tubes and wires, she couldn’t even hug her mother, father, or sister Jennifer. It was the most alone she had ever felt.

She discovered that David had gone into cardiac arrest in the helicopter on the way from Mosul to Baghdad, completely shocking even the surgeons. His internal injuries were more serious than anyone had imagined. He died the day after Carrie last saw him.

On the same day she learned of her husband’s death, she discovered his funeral was being held in Colorado and that she could not travel to be there. Understanding the logic with her mind, her heart wept at not being able to share in the service that would honor and celebrate her husband’s life.

Lord, sustain me through my own moments of isolation and give me the strength to face each new day.

“I lie down and sleep; I wake again, because the LORD sustains me.” (Psalm 3:5)

Carrie still had to focus on recovering from her physical injuries. One bullet shattered her left tibia. Another bullet went through her upper left leg, and another scraped her right thigh. She lost all the fingers on her left hand except the middle finger and thumb. A shattered bone in her right arm and bullet to the joint in the left elbow rendered both arms useless for a while.

Bullets and shrapnel hit her right ear and face, breaking the septum in her nose and fracturing her mandible. Another bullet hit her in the right chest, broke her ribs, and exited beneath her left breast. Amazingly, only one small scar on her face gives any hint as to what she endured.

Years after the attack, Carrie said it still felt fresh. “My senses went into overdrive that day,” she said. “I remember it all. I have never had to relive that experience in a dream because it’s so vivid when I’m awake. I replay parts of it every day in my mind.”

Even with her incredible losses, however, Carrie never was angry with God. “I did go through a time of questioning, and came to understand that even if I had answers to all those questions, I would still miss my husband and friend.”

Carrie’s heart for the Muslim people also remains unchanged. “I still love them and desire that they come to know Christ,” she said. “They were a loving people. Not all Muslims are terrorists. This is just a fallen world.”

She continues to heal and recover in the States, but she doesn’t rule out one day returning to Iraq. “I still want to be involved in missions,” Carrie said. “I want to encourage believers to be obedient to God’s Word and share the gospel. That’s what I’m doing now. But if God should ever show me he wants me to go overseas again, I’ll be obedient.”

In the meantime, she has written her story in Facing Terror (along with Kristen Billerbeck) and founded Carry On Ministries. The nonprofit organization seeks to help awaken the church to God’s global purpose, to help ease the burdens of those who are serving among the nations, and to mobilize God’s people to unity so that we might “stand firm in one spirit, with one mind, working side by side for the faith of the gospel.”

Lord, show me how to use my own trials and sufferings to further your kingdom and give you honor and glory.

“He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 1:6)

I could tell when my superiors approached me that day that something was up. I was right.

“We have to send a bunch of guys from Korea to Iraq,” my boss told me. “We know you’re scheduled to change command in a few days, but we want to know if you want to go with your soldiers to Iraq or go with your family back to the States.”

It was just two days before my wife Wendy and two-year-old daughter Anna Grace were scheduled to leave Korea and get our house settled for the next chapter of our lives. After handing over command of my tank company, I was to join them a couple weeks later and start grad school at Syracuse University in order to teach at my alma mater, West Point.

Plans change.

“Here am I Lord,” I replied, “send me.”

It was clear to me then that God didn’t give me all the skills and abilities in order to turn my back on seventy-five guys who were counting on me and seek my own comfort in the academic life. My duty was to my soldiers.

Wendy cancelled her flight immediately to stay in Korea with me for the next two and a half months of training. During that time, we all flew to Colorado for a family reunion before the deployment to Iraq.

My parents, who I had not seen in two years, are strong believers and were as confident that God had called me to this mission as I was. My father, who served in the Viet Nam war, pulled me aside at one point for a crucial piece of advice.

“I want you to make a decision that whatever happens, you will not be bitter,” he said.

Did he have some premonition that I didn’t have? Or had he just seen too many soldiers respond with bitterness to the blows war dealt them? Taking Dad’s advice turned out to be providential. I had no idea what God had in store for me, but I deliberately chose to trust his sovereignty no matter what.

Lord, help me trust you so completely that I will not be tempted to grow bitter over my own trials.

“Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the LORD our God.” (Psalm 20:7)