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

You are the God of all comfort. Please give your comfort, solace, encouragement, joy, strength, peace and assurance to those still grieving the loss of a loved one, close friend, or fellow soldier.

Jim Phillips is a physician and soldier. In 2003 he led the 2 ndbattalion of the 20 thSpecial Forces Group (2/20 SFG) to Afghanistan. He was the Battalion commander. He has also served in Iraq. There he worked as a physician with the 1 stCavalry Division. Both missions served important roles in the war on terror. Both experiences gave him a deeper perspective on war and faith.

“When this is done, I will go…. And if I perish, I perish.” (Esther 4:16)

In Afghanistan I played a war fighter role. We had Operational Detachment Alpha (ODA) teams spread out all over the country. The Afghanistan people are tough as nails. They appear to be unemotional. You could really understand how Alexander the Great lost there. They are also incredibly industrious. They can make anything out of everything. They are also pretty inscrutable, hard to read. One thing they do value is the humanity we brought. Although we pursue our enemies, we also care for those we liberate. It is the Special Forces motto, de oppresso liber. The English translation of this Latin phrase is “to liberate the oppressed”.

We had gone out to visit a forward operating base for one of the ODAs. A family had brought in a young child, approximately two months old. He had probably been sick for a while. The medic for the team had kept the kid alive until we arrived. He had done everything a pediatrician would have done without the benefit of labs. The medic had started an IV line and gave the child fluid and antibiotics.

We decided that nothing else could be done there, so we loaded the child on the Chinook and flew to the combat support hospital. I held the child on the way.

That was what we did. We were not just there to kill and destroy. The people are tough as nails, but they responded to the humanitarian side of what we did. Death and oppression are the enemies. Humanity is more than the ultimate end; it is also a great deal of the means by which we reach the end.

God of mercy, may we show your grace and mercy to those who are in need. Creator of all, may we show your love and compassion to everyone we meet.

“I pursued my enemies and overtook them. I did not turn back until they were destroyed.” (Psalm 18:37)

One night in the Combat Support Hospital there was a stryker team that was brought in. Their vehicle had burned after being shot up while on patrol. There were a couple of guys with modest injuries. What made it worse was that it was a friendly fire incident. Two strykers out on patrol came close to each other. One didn’t recognize the other and fired. It was just a bad circumstance all the way around. Thankfully, no one died.

They were sitting around the treatment area trying to sort it all out. There was a moment of silence and then they just all started laughing. It’s hard to describe the camaraderie, the ability to take life and death encounters in stride. Most people would not be able to understand how these guys could laugh together and not be devastated by what almost happened to them.

In my experience, I wasn’t impressed with any one individual more than the general rank and file’s willingness to be there, suck it up, and complete the mission. It’s a testament to our country’s true strength that these men do their jobs, survive multiple brushes with death, and to ultimately find meaning in something of which a large part of our country fails to see value. Most Americans do not understand the quality of people that our country can put on the ground in foreign lands.

Most Americans also do not understand the intestinal fortitude required to go through life threatening events and laugh out loud. Soldiers face hardships and shoulder burdens that the average American cannot fathom. Yet, under the hardship a lot of true character is revealed. That night in the CSH, it was revealed in laughter.

Whatever happens in our lives, dear Lord, restore to us your joy, your love, your hope, your peace. Strengthen our faith when it’s tested and tried. May we always stay true to you until the very end.

“Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the LORD, I will be joyful in God my Savior.” (Habakkuk 3:17–18)

Our unit had set up morale, welfare, and recreation (MWR) tents around our area. Guys could call home for four cents a minute. You could get online, and some would even videoconference with loved ones at home. You would think that a place where folks phoned home would be a happy place, but that wasn’t usually the case.

The nearest MWR tent was less than twenty yards from where I slept, just behind a wall of concrete barriers. It was open twenty-four hours a day. I would drop in to make a phone call before I went to work or left for a mission (if it was a reasonable time back home). Julie and I talked several times a week. Most of the guys would have their heads lowered to preserve as much privacy as possible while calling home. It was impossible to hide the struggles of keeping a family going from a thousand miles away.

What can you say, other than you love them and pray for them? You want to hear everyday details that help you feel as if things are all right at home. Your spouse doesn’t generally have the time or energy to give a lot of those details. They are burdening the stresses of raising children and running homes by themselves. Julie blessed me by hiding her frustration most of the time.

Connections with life at home were so important to all of us. Care packages would come and go, but for someone to collect and send the local paper meant the world. Highly valued items were personal notes from children, pictures of my own children, or the most treasured item: a tape recording of their voices. Feeling connected meant that I could focus on the mission. It was very empowering.

Dear Lord, when we are separated from loved ones, may we sense your presence in our lives. May we feel more connected than ever to our loved ones back home. May we sense your deep, abiding love. May we gain new strength, courage, and purpose.

“But those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” (Isaiah 40:31)

I will never forget the morning of November 22nd, 2005. I was a Marine Lance Corporal and my boots had just hit the ground in Rahmadi. I had been in the Marines for two and a half years by this point. I had undergone every training situation and course that the Marine Corps could offer me. This was my first deployment. Before that morning I always considered my self a man of faith. Up until that time I had only gone to church occasionally. I still said my prayers and went about my life.