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

The presence of six times the normal number of chaplains at the Pentagon on September 11, 2001, was truly an amazing preparation for the immediate aftermath. For many hurting people that day, chaplains were God’s instruments of hope and peace.

You are a great God. Thank you for putting an extra number of chaplains on site at the Pentagon that day.

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” (Psalm 147:3)

Rank disappeared on September 11, 2001. Everyone wanted to do whatever they could to help. About four o’clock in the afternoon, the fire chief in charge of the recovery process made an announcement at Ground Zero.

“We need volunteers to put on masks and gloves and be willing to do a sweep through the Pentagon. Any volunteers?” he asked.

“People ran to get a place in line,” recalled retired Major General Baldwin, Air Force deputy chief of chaplains.

“So here we were in line. Next to me was a two-star general, and I was a one-star general. We’re standing in our blues. We stepped forward, put on gloves, put on the masks. They gave us the instructions to stay together in rows, and we were going to sweep through the building and walk through the clouds of fire, dust and all that. And just before he said, ‘Okay, this line step forward,’ a brigade from Arlington Cemetery pulled up in buses.”

Because this brigade was trained and ready to do a sweep, the fire chief released the volunteers.

“I looked around and saw the field full of people who were willing to step into the fiery furnace to see if somebody else could be pulled out. So we stepped away and went back to the areas where we could be helpful, be the pastors present.”

Two experiences prepared Baldwin to lead chaplains on that unforgettable day. He was a rescue helicopter pilot in Vietnam, where he witnessed death, carnage, and many other terrible things. Years later as a lieutenant colonel in Desert Storm, he was in charge of chapel services at the base in Saudi Arabia. “We preached every Sunday in the war zone and saw people die. Body bags were brought back to our base to process before sending them back home,” he explained.

He learned his role was to be a calm, encouraging presence in the midst of the tragedy. “You don’t have to be a military chaplain to have the theology of hope that says ‘God is present in the midst of terrible things.’ Military chaplains have the type of experience that says, ‘God is present on the battlefield, not to help people kill people but to help them through the tragedies and consequences of sin. They don’t bless the bombs, they just pray that God would be present with those who are the instruments, even we would say the instruments of peace. It’s an amazing thing.”

Thank you God for your promise to be present with me no matter what.

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28).

“Where was God on the morning of September 11,” a CNN reporter asked Chaplain Charlie Baldwin in an on-camera interview in his office not long after the terrorist attacks.

“It wasn’t something I had to make up. It was obvious to me that he was present in the midst of the terror. He revealed himself through the angels of mercy who were present,” Baldwin recalled.

Baldwin saw many moments of mercy at the Pentagon that day. “One second lieutenant, a young lady, came running over to me, asking, ‘Chaplain, what can I do to help?’”

“Go to that tent and just wipe their brows, and you will be helping.”

She went to one of the collection tents where victims were being brought. There she set up cots, and did whatever needed to be done.

Right beside her was a two-star general doing the same thing. “I want to help. What else can I do?” Knowing the man was a Christian, Baldwin added, “Tell them not to be afraid. Tell them God is here. He will take care of them.”

Baldwin mentioned that chaplains offer the same message to troops on the ground, “so they can be assured that God is with them; that they might know that they are not alone.”

“These people weren’t the preachers,” Baldwin decreed. “They were just people who cared. They were God’s hands, his instruments of love and comfort, saying ‘God is with you, and he will be with you through this whole thing.’”

Baldwin was asked several times by reporters, “Where was God on 9-1-1?”

“The answer was, ‘He was present.’”

“He worked through that second lieutenant, brand new to the Air Force. She probably didn’t think she would experience something like this so early in her military career. But she just jumped into the middle of it all, carrying stretchers, taking bandages. If the nurses needed an orderly, he or she was that person.” God was everywhere. He made his presence known through the least of these.

“He was in the building when the terrorists struck. He offered healing to those who received it. He offered comfort to those who were dying. And God’s presence was overwhelming and even miraculous in some cases,” Baldwin replied.

Thank you for using the “least of these” to provide hope to those in need on the battlefield. Thank you for being a presence among your people.

“Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.” (Psalm 139:7–8)

I was holding and inspecting my chemical mask!

Though I had been in the Air Force for five years and was on my second deployment to Southwest Asia where the threat and enemy were near, I had never before been concerned about my chemical gear. I now realized I should have paid more attention during my annual chemical defense classes, one of my requirements as an Air Force navigator on C–130’s. Recalling how to put all the gear on was easy, but my worse case scenario was: I don all my gear and simply worry about dehydration. However, remembering where to inject the large needle from my gear into my hip without jamming it into my sciatic nerve was gaining prevalence on my list of important things to know.

It was fall 2002. Discussions of an invasion of Iraq gained fervor on television and on our base in Oman.

My crew and I had grown accustomed to flying into Pakistan and Afghanistan after September 11, 2001. Original fears of unknown operating areas and first-time combat operations had led to many prayers and self-reflection, but we had replaced them with card games and reading. With the exception of occasional small arms fire or a lucky rocket propelled grenade launch, threats to our C–130 aircraft were minimal. The walk many of us had taken with God to get through earlier tough times had been replaced by repetition.

This normalcy was broken that day when our commanders ordered us into a tent for a chemical gear refresher course. As they spread us apart to make sure we had enough room to inspect and manipulate our individual equipment, I noticed a difference. The more experienced master sergeant, not the young senior airman, was teaching the course. I suddenly realized this was for real. Something was about to happen. That moment brought the confrontation of war to the forefront of my thoughts.