Bread and a muzzle

The bouncing muzzle of his gun jarred me from my thoughts. My eyes crept up as I saw his boots, the tan-green camouflage pattern of his pants and then a hand holding a plate of bread. I remember very clearly staring at that muzzle while knowing just about everyone in the room had a weapon, loaded with one in the chamber. Simple 2x4’s and plywood formed the chapel, nothing special. However, the spirit in that room with those wonderful men and women from all over the world was almost piercing, even unexpected. The Lord was even in Afghanistan and oh how I needed him.

I had been in country only few days and they had been a whirlwind of in-processing and receiving the hand-off from those ready to go home after their tour. The 11.5 hours’ time difference from Alaska didn’t help either. This world was very different than my private medical practice or even the flight medicine clinic at JBER.

This was something out of a Spielberg movie; something that other people would tell stories about and you would be mesmerized by their words. How did I end up here, embedded with one of the most decorated and elite Para rescue units in all of the Air Force as a flight doc?

I remember my first combat mission to Tarin Kowt, TK for short, to pick up an injured boy, not more than nine who had stepped on a landmine while herding his goats. He was on life support and a triple amputee. My job was to ensure his safe transfer from TK to the Afghan Hospital. There were lines with blood, fluids, sedatives and such. I made sure we had everything then rolled him into the back of the Humvee and off to the HC-130 to take him north. Our call sign was Fever 11, that’s “one-one” and not eleven.

We loaded him and his father on the plane. He was a simple man, of simple means who was fearful for his son and his future. I remember instructing him in my poor Pashto to sit down, but he would not leave his son’s side. We almost had to forcibly put him in his seat and strap him in. We performed an assault take off which is very steep while a pulling a few G’s. At that moment, the father looked at me with thanks, knowing that if he had stayed where he was, he would now be floating in the air getting ready to crash down on the flight deck rather than safely strapped in. Once we got leveled out I got him back by his son. The tenderness he showed was evident as his eyes welled up with tears as his little boy lay broken and bleeding. It was difficult to work through my filled eyes as I pondered my son, and how I would feel if I were in this man’s shoes. Though nothing much was shared verbally, our hearts were touched by a father’s love for his son.

That Sunday morning, I pondered the love of this good man for his son and imagined how helpless this father felt as I worked on his son during the flight and during the handoff in Kabul. He could only sit and watch, praying that my skills could continue to save his son. I could see it in his eyes, wishing that he could do something to take some of the pain away from his son; but that was not possible.

I imagined our Father in Heaven feeling that same way as his Son paid for our sins and died on the cross for us. However, Christ was a willing volunteer, as it reads in Matthew 26:39 “O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless, not as I will, but as thou wilt.” I pondered that sacrifice, that willing, clean and pure sacrifice for me, an imperfect, natural man. How could our Heavenly Father look away as Jesus Christ took all that upon himself? I am sure He wanted to be just like my Afghan father and tenderly care and watch over Christ, His son; but also, just like the Afghan father, it was not to be; someone else had to do the heavy lifting. Christ did the heavy lifting for us when no one else could. I know I have not been sufficient in my life to be worthy of such a sacrifice, though I strive to be.

So I come back to those tan boots and that bread, the bread that represents the body of Christ as described in Matthew 26:26. As I carefully took that bread to my mouth, I was thankful for the example of a loving Afghan father that reminded me of a loving Father in Heaven and his Son Jesus Christ, who sacrificed all for me. I decided then and there that my sacrifice in Afghanistan on behalf of my family, my country, and my God would be honorable and perhaps, in some way, worthy to have my Father say “Well done, thou good and faithful servant.” May we take the time to reflect on the example of Christ by providing unselfish service to those in need.

John Boston is a local physician and serves in the Alaska Air National Guard. He has completed over 100 combat missions and is credited with over 50 saves. He also volunteers for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints as assistant director of public affairs.