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

As we walked I was struck by the history. “This is where Daniel was thrown in the lion’s den… . This is the Street of Processions… . This is the Great Throne Room.” It was amazing to be near the ancient history of our faith.

I was tired and hot; the nature of war kept us very busy. Sometimes that busyness precluded the time I longed for in my own thoughts and reading in the Bible. I would begin to feel distant from my faith in those times, but the reality of Daniel and his trust in God was made more real by this place. It was a needed encouragement.

I recorded stories and prayers for our children and would send them home from time to time. That night I read from Daniel 6:6–28. It is the story of Daniel in the lion’s den. I then described what it looked like today. I want their faith to be as real as Daniel’s.

Father, you are the living God and you endure forever! Your kingdom will never be destroyed. Your dominion will never end. You rescue and save! You are worthy to be praised even when I fear the worst has come upon me.

“I issue a decree that in every part of my kingdom people must fear and reverence the God of Daniel. ‘For he is the living God and he endures forever; his kingdom will not be destroyed, his dominion will never end. He rescues and he saves; he performs signs and wonders in the heavens and on the earth. He has rescued Daniel from the power of the lions.’” (Daniel 6:26–27)

It was late in the evening. It had been another hot long day, but one in which I was able to return to the relative comfort of my trailer. As I lay there, bright lights cast moving shadows through my window. The shadow of my blinds moved up the wall. Out the window I could see the flare floating down. It was not far away. I stepped outside to get a better look.

My trailer was behind tall Texas t-barriers that protected us from direct fire. The flare was just south of us. A second flare opened and began floating down. Then the obvious struck me. One reason flares are shot is to identify the enemy. We didn’t see visible light flares much because of our night vision devices.

The flares should have been my warning. Suddenly fire erupted just over the wire. A firefight ensued. Tracers raced overhead. Two small explosions, automatic gun fire. Then as quickly as it began it ended. I was still standing there. I was surprised that I had not felt my heart racing or been overcome with the urge to run for cover. Perhaps it was because I was tired. Maybe it was because I knew I was behind the protection of those t-barriers. I went back into my trailer and crawled back in bed.

One thought came to mind. “Strong tower, He is a strong tower.” Just as those t-barriers provided for a measure of safety, ultimately God is my strong tower, protecting me from the dangers this life holds.

Abba, you are my strong tower. I run to you in my fear and uncertainty. I know I am safe in your arms. Safe from my enemies, safe from myself.

“The name of the LORD is a strong tower; the righteous run to it and are safe.” (Proverbs 18:10)

It was a beautiful night for a run. The sand in our part of Iraq was like talcum powder. You cold smell it in the air. It made for some spectacular sunsets. It was still too hot for a comfortable run, but after a few months of acclimating to the midday heat, the evening air felt refreshing.

I jogged down the road that paralleled our side of the airfield. It was a mile from where I lived to the corner where an Iraqi T-55 tank set. I would run down and turn around and run back. I was on my second lap having just turn around at the tank when I saw the flash.

It was big and beautiful. White Phosphorous (WP or “Willie Pete”) burns without oxygen. It burns hot. The explosions are unique in that the fragments of white phosphorous arc away from the point of impact they glow brightly and leave white trails of smoke.

The most immediate thought I had was that the blast landed near my trailer. I’m the doc for that area, and I’m a mile away on foot. I ran harder and prayed that no one was hurt. Across the airfield I could see another explosion. It was distant but bright. Since when did the enemy start shooting WP at us?

The round had not injured anyone on our side of the base, but the round that hit the other side had scored a direct hit on one of our TOCs (Tactical Operations Center), and several guys were burned pretty bad.

Life is so frail. In the midst of a beautiful sunset, those rounds dropped in and wounded good soldiers. That night we returned to the fight. The TOC’s operations were up and running within an hour. Life went on. War went on.

Father God, you are so good. Help me see how frail this life is. Help me remember that we are dust. Let me use my days to honor and fear you oh God. Keep your righteousness with my children’s children.

“As a father has compassion on his children, so the LORD has compassion on those who fear him; for he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust. As for man, his days are like grass, he flourishes like a flower of the field; the wind blows over it and it is gone, and its place remembers it no more. But from everlasting to everlasting the LORD’s love is with those who fear him, and his righteousness with their children’s children with those who keep his covenant and remember to obey his precepts.” (Psalm 103:13–18)

I saw more people killed in Iraq than in Afghanistan. Part of it was the role I played. Just seeing fresh casualties when they came in was a difficult thing. One night there were four guys that came in after an IED attack. They arrived at a typical random time unexpectedly. Each of them probably died the instant the IED detonated, as terrible damage had been done to their bodies.

It is hard to describe how sudden and devastating the loss of four young men can be. They were all in the prime of life. We learned later that one had just been commissioned out of ROTC. They were here one day, driving in their vehicle. And then a moment later, they were gone.

I think the abruptness and non-subtle way that events transpired was an eye opener for me. These experiences did not weaken my faith but strengthened it. I wondered how others went through the experience without faith. It was a lot of emotion and mental tragedy to wade through. Faith provided protection that is difficult to describe. My faith did not provide a reason why bad things happened. It did allow me to get to the point of accepting that there are some things I will not be able to figure out.

Life and especially war will not always make sense. God doesn’t promise that everything will make sense, or that he will be predictable. I do know that believing that God was larger than the events happening around me, gave me a sense of control. His control. It allowed me the freedom to have to trust God’s control of what was happening around me.