I was raised in what was the small town of Lombard, Illinois. My parents and I regularly went to church at the First Congressional Church in town. Seven years after graduating from high school I was in Vietnam.

I was a artillery forward observer attached to a rifle company in the 1st Air Cavalry Division. We were operating in an area called the Central Highlands. We were helicoptered to a stone quarry where the engineers made their gravel to be used for roads and runways. What we liked was the engineers had cooks and hot food. Hot food was a rarity for us. The following happened on Christmas 1966.

On Christmas Eve all was quiet until about 10:00 PM when all kinds of gunfire came from a pacified village. We were told that the newly elected mayor and a female school teacher were killed and beheaded by the NVA.

Christmas morning we went to the Martha Raye Bowl, a small landing zone near Pleiku. The stage was made out of used 105 mm shell boxes. On the stage were two ministers, Bishop Sheen, and Rev. Billy Graham.They presided over the best nondenominational Christmas services that I have ever seen. They did this while being protected by only two platoons. I sent a picture of the two of them to the Billy Graham Library at Wheaton College. Their records said that he was at An Khe, the base camp for the 1st Air Cavalry Division and didn’t realize that they took a trip out to the bush.

The Army gave us the first hot meal in over two weeks. It was great. The enlisted men ate first, then the noncommissioned officers, and finally, if anything was left the officers ate. There was plenty of hot food that day and even some extra hotdogs. There is something in our family’s gene pool that makes us fishermen. I brought a very small survival kit from home which was always with me. It included among other things, 6 lb. monofilament line, size 8 hooks, and some split shot. With hot dogs as bait and a 10 foot piece of green bamboo for a pole,I went fishing in the creek. Heck, even caught some white catfish.

I had a wonderful Christmas. I was not on patrol. I saw Billy Graham. I ate a great hot meal. I went fishing. Most importantly,I thanked God that I was alive.

I got a letter about two weeks later from my Dad. In the letter he informed me that the youth minister in his Christmas sermon named me and four other church members who were in Vietnam as baby killing ,women rapping, drug addicts. My dad and several of the other members of the congregation then started a new Congressional Church in Glen Ellyn.

When I came home we were bussed from the Travis AFB to Oakland Army Base and the ride was like running the gauntlet with rocks and eggs getting thrown at us. That hurt. When I went back to college most of the student body and professors hated me because I was a Nam Vet, That hurt. My experiences in Vietnam deepened my belief in God, but to have my own church accuse me of atrocities that never happened really tore me up. That hurt harder and longer than anything . I went to church less than a hand full of times in forty years. I worshiped God every morning at sunrise no matter where I was. I made it a point to go to a solitary place in nature and just look and listen at what God has created. I went fishing as much as I could, mostly in the Fox river in Aurora Illinois. This is where I would get my head screwed on straight. I call it worshipping God in his cathedral. Then along comes a great VA counselor, and my second wife Shirley. She comes with Rev. Jeremiah and a wonderful church family which I’m proud to be a part of.

Two years ago was my 50th high school reunion. I turned the corner onto Main Street of the huge town of Lombard and everything had changed except the beautiful church steeple on the Congregational Church. We got a guided tour of the old church. The doors are always locked and you need a password to get in now. There is new carpet on the floor but the floor boards still squeak in the same places. What was said here on Christmas Eve , 1966 no longer has any bearing on me.