By the Grace of God: Chapter 7

A line of soldiers stretched as far as the eye could see, lost souls searching for a way home

A bright blue pinpoint of light hovered to the right of the chair Lieutenant Walters sat in, expanding until it was man-sized. Blue light morphed into a soldier wearing glasses, swamp hat and fatigues. He stood beside Loo, dark green eyes twinkling with amusement. The name badge on his chest read Chapman.

I took a moment to think on Loo’s story and what happened at the village while Loo gathered his thoughts. As a medium, I knew how important it was to trust in your gut instinct and to listen when you got guidance from spirit. My eyes on Chapman, I mentioned my deduction to the Lieutenant.

You know, Loo, it sounds as if Chappy was intuitive but didn’t know it. Or maybe he did. I get guidance, intuition, from spirit like what Chappy experienced. I learned not to ignore them, trusting them to keep me safe. Just as he did. Do you think Chappy talked to spirits? He might have been a medium, too.

My new guest smirked, eyebrows raised. He looked amused as he nodded, answering before Lieutenant Walters had a chance to.

I got called the old woman of the unit because of my warnings, the guys told me they made me sound ominous, like someone’s old grandma. Once they saw I was right, they backed off and called me Rasputin. Never liked that name, so the guys I scared off with my knowing things used it behind my back. The others gave them what for whenever they did.

I talked to spirit as you do. My Great-Aunt Betty did, too. She was a Gypsy who travelled our home state of Oklahoma with a fair, reading Tarot cards and using a crystal ball. Most people thought it was a joke or a parlour game, but Aunt Betty was genuine. Her loyal clients knew that and came to see her when she was in their town.

When fair season was over, in late September or early October, depending on the weather, Aunt Betty headed home to our family farm for the winter. I loved it when she came home. She helped me get a handle on my connection to spirit.

I kept it to myself in the Marines, just calling it my gut instinct and stuff, but it was real. I knew things others didn’t. Spirit made sure I knew what I needed to know to keep myself and my unit safe.

Major Higgins got wind of my gut instinct and cornered me one day, asking me if I was ‘one of them’. I couldn’t tell if he wanted me to be one of them or not. I wasn’t sure what one of them was, so I downplayed it and told him ‘no, sometimes I just sense that things aren’t right’. Not sure if he believed me or not, but I know he understood it. Good military men have a strong instinct for trouble and I proved myself right too many times for him to ignore me.

While Chappy talked, Loo turned to see who was speaking. His face lit up at the sight of his old friend. The commanding officer lurking behind his smile showed his respect and affection for the men he served with and commanded.

Hmmm. What role did you play in making Loo the CO he was, Chappy?

My question fell on deaf ears as Loo greeted his combat buddy.

Chappy! Good to see you, man. The two men embraced before Loo turned to introduce us.

Chappy here was one of the good guys, Sarah. He took care of his CO first, his unit second, and himself last. I learned a bunch from working with him, how to bullshit the higher-highers to get what I wanted, for one and the benefits of trusting your men for another.

The laughter the two men shared warmed my heart. After living through hell, they found the humour in life. It amused me to see we shared a dry, sarcastic humour. My initiation into their ranks was under way, I was becoming an honorary veteran, and I liked it.

Never mind. I get it now. My sarcastic tone made them smile as my apprising eye took stock of the men in front of me. Although they were typical Vietnam War veterans, their similarities shone through their differences. Loo and Chappy proved themselves to be stand-up guys, honourable and dependable in ways others weren’t in Vietnam. The Lieutenant and Chappy were entertaining in their stories. I was enjoying my time with them.

It was interesting to get a perspective on a divisive and horrific time in American history from those who lived it, not just reported it. The stories they told painted a picture that took me to that time and place, one that altered the course of their lives.

Their memories of Vietnam showed me the horrific things human beings do to one another, the ways one man could discover to mistreat another.

From torture to betrayal, mental illness and death, those memories highlighted the story of a country defending itself against invaders and the soldiers caught in the middle.

My insatiable need to learn history from around the world led me to a knowledge of the Vietnam War not found in many of my peers. This project took that knowledge and added to it, showing me moments in time that begged for understanding and further research.

You were a medium, Chappy, as was your Aunt Betty. Did you ever consider doing readings for people? I don’t do many readings, I work through it as I go along, on my own. How did you find your way working with spirit?

I was never comfortable discussing spirit with most people and only did informal readings. Spirit gave me messages to pass along, and I made sure I delivered them to who needed to hear them. I didn’t always admit it was coming from spirit because few people understood me being a medium. So I guess, to answer your question, I worked through it on my own.

Chappy smiled then turned thoughtful, eyes staring over my shoulder. I could sense an energy around me, recognizing that Chappy was looking at a veteran who was not showing himself to me. He was someone Chappy helped when he was in country. The gratitude he felt towards Chappy was unmistakable and he was paying him back by being with Chappy when he needed support. I looked at my guests and commented on the energy behind me.

No man left behind. It’s the creed of the US military. They preached it to their servicemen and women, who took it to heart and made it a motto to live by, the best thing for them to do. Long after their service ends, I see how veterans take care of each other and their families. In Vietnam, it gave the veterans purpose and helped them survive the shitshow Vietnam was. They knew their buddies would do everything they could to make sure they made it home, dead or alive. Veterans honour it, and their obligation to their fellow veterans, even after death. Your buddy here is honouring that obligation with you, Chappy, as you honoured it with him back in Vietnam. You were there when he needed you, so he is here for you when you need someone.

Loo and Chappy agreed, understanding that military veterans were a family unlike any other, regardless of where they fought.

Chappy continued telling me his story.

I remember seeing spirits when I was as young as three, but didn’t understand that not everyone saw them. Spirits in distress, those who wandered, the ones who enjoyed being earthbound, were everywhere around me. I remember asking my Mom why she ignored them. She didn’t say a word, just grabbed the bible and said a prayer before giving me a hug. I found out years later the prayer was my mother asking my deceased grandmother to help me make sense of what I was seeing. She wasn’t ignoring them, or me, she just didn’t see spirit the same way I did.

Aunt Betty and Granny helped me live with spirit in my life. They made it okay for me to see and speak with spirit and were beside me as I helped spirits in distress cross over and find peace.

As you are, Sarah, I was a rescue medium and helped others find their way to the other side and peace. It was both a blessing and a curse to be a rescue medium in Vietnam. I could understand and help those lost souls who died in battle, but there were too many for me to help on my own. I became mired in the negative energy.

Basic Training at Camp Pendleton in California is where I started seeing the dead veterans. Camp Pendelton and Parris Island are where the bodies of those killed in action first landed back on US soil when they came home. The spirits of the veterans often stayed at those locations, unable to accept or acknowledge their own deaths and keep moving through their life’s journey. I maintained my distance from them until I was in country.

Once I got to the jungles of Vietnam, it became more difficult to ignore the soldiers’ spirits. Lost souls walked in a line the length of Vietnam. The sheer number of dead soldiers walking the jungles lost on their way to their afterlife overwhelmed me.

The dead walked in a line only I could see, stretching the length of the country. More lost souls joined their ranks every day, every hour. Soldiers killed in action in Vietnam were the core group in that parade of souls. Those who died stateside, far from the jungles of Vietnam, joined the line when they died, still victims of that godforsaken war.

I understood the haunted look in his eyes.

It didn’t matter where or when the veterans died, in country or at home, they never left that damn war behind them where it belonged. I know that sentiment is shared by other veterans, but it’s true. The Vietnam War, as other wars before it did, sucked the soldiers in and trapped them within its horrors and atrocities. Vietnam appeared to be worse because the soldiers didn’t have the support of those they fought to protect.

In previous wars, those who fought knew who their enemies were and that those they fought for appreciated their efforts. The government and media made sure that didn’t happen in Vietnam. They kept the veterans in the dark, unsure of what was going on or who was at fault in Vietnam by limiting their access to information. It was the best way to ensure they did what the bureaucrats wanted them to. It also helped control the veterans behaviour in country, on the defensive and ready to fight.

No one who served in Vietnam ever left, they joined that line of souls when they died. That line is still there, too many souls still searching for their path home.

That line haunted me until I joined their ranks when the war and its repercussions got too much for me and I took my life in 1974.

Continue reading with By the Grace of God: Chapter 8 here:

To start at the beginning, see By the Grace of God: Chapter 1 here: