Table in the Presence The Inspiring Account of How a U. S. Marine Battalion Experienced God's Grace Amid the Chaos of the War in Iraq

An Unexpected Feast "Wake up!" As the lights to our squad tent flickered to life, I struggled to wipe the sand and grit out of my eyes and to sit up in the sleeping bag that for the last six weeks had been home. I only needed to take one look at the face of my executive officer, Major Cal Worth, to realize what was happening. His eyes were like steel; his face, expressionless. My heart raced. "You have five hours to get your gear packed and yourselves into your vehicles. We're moving north!" You could have heard a pin drop in the tent. It was an announcement we had been expecting for weeks, yet his words hit us like a train. "Any questions? No? Good! Then be advised there will be a mandatory staff meeting in thirty minutes. You'll get more info then. Get moving!" With that he turned and walked out. For the next few moments, no one moved a muscle. We sat on the tops of our sleeping bags in shock, wrestling with the magnitude of what we'd just heard. We looked at one another, but no one said a thing. We didn't have to. The words still lingered in the stale air of the tent. Then finally, as if we were responding to a choreographed script, every one of us jumped up and started packing our gear. Within minutes, I could tell that the message was permeating the entire camp. Senior Marines were barking out orders. Trucks, tanks, and High Mobility Multipurpose Wheeled Vehicles (HMMWVs or Humvees) were being moved into place. More than one thousand infantrymen, living in a space no bigger than a parking lot, started packing their personal supplies, filling their canteens, double-checking the status of their ammunition, writing last-minute letters, and saying prayers. A young officer grabbed my arm. "Hey Chaplain, if something should happen to me, will you give this letter to my girl?" Hey, wait a minute, I thought. That's just for the movies. The man who handed me the letter was a decorated combat veteran. He had been among the first to land deep in enemy territory in Afghanistan. He'd been through this before, and his face was quite serious. I took the letter. "It's going to be okay," I reassured him. Was I sure about that? I tucked his letter deep within my pack, quietly hoping that I would never have to pull it out. Meanwhile, the frenzy of activity intensified. I could see the camps next to ours springing to life as well. Flashlights from every tent shot beams across the clear desert sky. Engines rumbled to life. The sound of men's voices, some laughing and joking, some urgent and tense, were echoing from camp to camp. This was it! We were all heading out. Would we ever see this place again? It was the evening of March 17, 2003. We had already been in the desert for forty days. Tired and restless, we were quite honestly wondering if the war was ever going to get kicked off. Two or three weeks were all that we'd expected to wait before the official word came to invade Iraq, yet there we were, approaching a month and a half. By now the days were growing longer, and the sun was getting ever hotter. The hope of a hot shower had all but evaporated, and shaving was merciless. The cold water had dulled the last of our razors, producing a wide variety of facial grimaces each morning as we pulled and tugged on our beards. And then there were the sandstorms. Before arriving in Kuwait, we had all been told about the intense desert winds. But there was no way we could ever have anticipated how vio- lent the storms would get. The weather pattern that brought them about was no mystery. When the wind blew in from the north, we enjoyed clear skies. But when the wind shifted directions and started blowing from the sCash, Carey H. is the author of 'Table in the Presence The Inspiring Account of How a U. S. Marine Battalion Experienced God's Grace Amid the Chaos of the War in Iraq', published 2005 under ISBN 9780891418887 and ISBN 0891418881.