New Column From Norris Burkes

Subject:
1st column in June 2019


Column:

Sometimes, uncertainty might be only certainty

As the political signs fill my neighborhood, I'm aware that our country remains divided on issues like abortion, medical care, immigration and gay rights.

While I recognize valid points on each side, I'm rarely able to declare these issues to be as black and white as the signs they are printed on.

My preference to examine both sides comes from my years as a chaplain in the healthcare community. Working in this world requires an ability to straddle the chasm between certainty and uncertainty, between clarity and obscurity.

In the medical world, you'll quickly discover that uncertainty is the only form of certainty available. If you seek moral inevitability or religious certitude, you'll run headlong into insanity.

For instance, if you believe that hell is reserved for those rejecting your specific brand of faith, then follow me to the hospital bed of my Mormon stepfather. My Baptist upbringing taught me that Mormons go to hell, yet Bob declared an inarguable faith until his last breath.

But if you are confident that there is no hell, then come with me into the treatment room where I'll introduce you to a child who's been ritualistically abused. Or sit on a chair with me beside a child beaten into a comatose state with a coat hanger. When you encounter these victims, you'll likely pray that there will be a hell for those who did this.

Once you step out of your certain world, you may never find anything indisputable again. For instance, if you're convinced that the Affordable Care Act is a bad thing, then come to the emergency room where the elderly clog the length of two hallways for 10 hours seeking relief for a persistent cough.

But don't be too sure that universal healthcare is the end-all either. In that same ER, we'll stand beside able-bodied people seeking treatment on the taxpayer's dollar and you'll be tempted to scream, "Get a job, get a life and pay for your own damn medical insurance!"

If you want to march against abortion, then march with me into our hospital chapel where I sit with a couple agonizing over her choice to abort her Trisomy 18 baby, an infant that will certainly die in his first weeks, if not minutes, of life.

On the other hand, if you're pro-choice, then return to that same chapel where the weeping father begs his wife to deliver that baby. Or come to the Neonatal ICU where I'll introduce you to the nurses that sustain a 26-week old baby that was small enough to be aborted hours earlier.

If you're clearly against the use of dramatic interventions to prolong the life of the terminally ill, then stand with me while the miracle of resuscitation gives a man his last chance to see his daughter.

Or if you think we ought to fight for every inch of life and use machines to keep people alive in whatever way possible, then come with me to visit the wife who lost everything as she kept her nearly brain-dead husband "alive" for a few more months.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not promoting any of the above positions. I'm just saying that the hospital constantly prompts me to see that life is rarely black and white. The healthcare community reminds me that we don't have all the answers and I need to listen more before I impose my beliefs on others.

During my days in healthcare, I've witnessed hospital miracles capable of converting atheists, but I've also seen tragedies that would cause a minister to tear off her clerical collar in disgust.

I'm grateful to God that on most days, I've kept most of my faith.

So allow me this opportunity to thank all those who choose to work in the healthcare world. Thank you for facing the unanswerable questions and never backing away from the fight for life.
_____________________________________________

Contact Chaplain Norris at comment@thechaplain.net or 10566 Combie Rd.
Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or voicemail (843) 608-9715.

 

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Join me for a trip to Honduras

Coloring the World with Hope Readers, Below you'll find a column I wrote when a dozen readers joined me in Honduras just a few months ago.  Please consider joining us for another trip in March 2020.  Go to www.chispaproject.org/volunteertrip.    Read below to get an idea of how the trip went this year. COLORING THE WORLD WITH HOPE   Do you ever find it helpful in risky situations to disregard worrisome thoughts and push yourself past tragedy, pain and danger?    Some call that approach denial. I call it exactly what I need as I rendezvous with volunteers in Tegucigalpa, Honduras.    Mostly column readers, these people arrive on a humid Sunday afternoon in answer to my challenge for help with the Chispa Project establishing a library for an inner-city school.   Along with my daughter, Sara, Chispa director, I meet them at the airport where they'd flown in from across the U.S. From the terminal, Chispa employees bus us to the safety of a rural retreat center run by a Honduran cadre of Presbyterian women.    As we unpack, I can't help but feel pride in my group. These well-seasoned travelers are fully aware of why this project shouldn't work.    Murders occur so frequently here, that the Peace Corps pulled out in 2012. The traffic is horrendous, motorcycles dart in front of cars like stray dogs and overloaded trucks menace the roadway. Roadside-trash buildup is stifling.   Education is so grossly underfunded that school staff must ration toilet tissue. Language and cultural differences raise the bar discouragingly high.    Nevertheless, we awake Monday to board our bus to Maradiaga School. During the drive, Earl Monroe of Montgomery, Ala., tells me he believes Chispa to be "a perfect pay-it-forward project because we should see the immediate effects."   An hour later, a school guard admits us through into a walled compound.    Sara explains how each teacher will receive a portable library that will rotate between classrooms every month. But first, we must prepare reading corners appropriate for these new books.   Our group scatters to survey classrooms and divide project pieces among us. Terri Young of Sacramento, Calif., quickly notes the "flow" and says she's "…feeling blessed to be a part of something that makes books so accessible to the children throughout the school."   Soon, we use two projectors to splash mural outlines onto corner sections of the walls.  Volunteers pencil-trace the projection, painting inside the pattern with bright primary colors that bring inspirational book characters to life. Kathleen Chobot of Charleston, SC, declares the mural to be "the first step in a thousand-mile journey."   Outside in the breezeway amidst noisy recess games, children surround us, smiling with unrehearsed gratitude. Theirs are broad, cheeky smiles that go for miles and miles.   They hug Annette Pollard of Myrtle Beach, SC, so often they delay simple movement. "I've always said that if I can get 12 hugs each day, I've had a great day. I got that amount in ten minutes."   The first two days pass quickly as we assemble and paint book shelves, code each book with a sticker, and pack the portable libraries into plastic tubs.   As we administer the tedious inventory task, Sherry Brakane from Glen Carbon, Ill., sees our effort as "one tiny thing to bring more color to their world." Her husband Terry adds, "Just because we can't do everything doesn't mean we can't do anything."   The school suspends classes on Wednesday while Sara trains the teachers in methods that will encourage students to read.    The value of the teaching seminar is quickly noted by our volunteers. Katie Doyle, Chispa board member and retired librarian from Denver, Colo., observes that "We are improving the education that's already in place by investing in teachers." Bob Smith of Walterboro, SC, pinpoints it. "The students seem eager to learn, but I'm most impressed that teachers are so receptive."   On the last two days, Chispa hosts the library inauguration, a sort of all-day birthday party where children rotate among classrooms for hands-on fun with puppets, experiments and storytelling.   In one class, a little girl reads "Peppa Pig" aloud to Laurie Mullinax of Charleston. "The girl turned each page as fast as she could," Laurie tells me. "Reading is the spark of learning."   As the week draws to a close, everyone gathers in the courtyard where children dazzle us with a cultural dance in swirling dress. On a final note, they unfurl a banner spelling out their gratitude:   "Thank you for making our school a better place to learn." The banner is bracketed with two U.S. flags.    Why did we do this? Deny our fears and push against the worrisome odds?    Lisa Dobeck of Sacramento suggests that "You never know how touching someone's life will change them, but you do the right thing because that's what your heart tells you to do."   Melissa Rush of Charleston adds a benedictory thought. "The end result proves it's worth the risk. We need to risk it for the children. Risk being afraid. If the children can read a book and see something beyond their neighborhood, I can put up with discomfort. We come for a week, but they have a lifetime."     If you're interested in joining us for our next trip, visit chispaproject.org/volunteertrip. Contact Chaplain Norris at comment@thechaplain.net or 10566 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or voicemail (843) 608-9715.         Copyright © 2019 Norris Burkes, All rights reserved. You signed up to be on Norris' list! Want to change how you receive these emails? You can update your preferences or unsubscribe from this list.

New Column From Norris Burkes

Subject:
Memorial Day Weekend column


Column:

Note to editors: This column could be shorted by removing paragraph 14, "When the nephew of Chaplain Fox...."


Remember Those on Memorial Day

Editor's note: Today's column excerpted from Norris' book, "Hero's Highway."

Fortunately, I retired from the Air Force chaplaincy without ever coming close to giving my life for my country. But I always prayed that if that day were to come, I would follow the courageous tradition of the "Four Chaplains" of World War II.

Their story begins in 1943 on board the USS Dorchester, a 5,649-ton luxury liner converted into a U.S. Army troopship. Heavy with more than 900 men, the ship fell behind its escort off the Greenland coast.

Gale-force winds made for a nauseating voyage, according to later reports. Fortunately, among those doing their best to alleviate the discomfort were four chaplains: Father John Washington, the Rev. Clark Poling, Rabbi Alexander Goode and the Rev. George Fox.

Like a lot of chaplains on ships, they pulled double duty as activity directors. They organized sing-alongs and talent shows, but mostly they took confessions and held worship services, no matter what their faith.

On the evening of Feb. 2, 1943, the ship's captain, concerned over the sightings of three enemy submarines, instructed passengers to wear life jackets to bed. Deep in the ship, the engine heat and overwhelming claustrophobia made it too uncomfortable for those sleeping in the lower decks to follow the order.

On Feb. 3 at 12:55 a.m., as the Dorchester approached Greenland, a German periscope sliced through the icy Atlantic waters. An officer aboard the submarine U-223 gave orders to fire a fan of three torpedoes. One decisive hit on the Dorchester's starboard side below the water line killed scores in a searing flash of flames.

Troops, some dressed only in their underwear, clambered on deck. Among them were the four chaplains: two Protestant pastors, a Catholic priest and a Jewish rabbi. Survivors would later recall these men of faith seeking to calm the passengers and organize them into lifeboats.

When the chaplains saw many were without life vests, they dug around and found extras to give to the men. They instructed the soldiers to pray as they abandoned their ship and imbued them with courage to remain steadfast in their purpose.

Eventually, the chaplains discovered that there just weren't enough life jackets. With the supply depleted, each chaplain removed his own vest and gave it to another man.
The following information comes from the vantage point of those who made it into the lifeboats.

"I could hear men crying, pleading, praying," a soldier named William B. Bednar recalled. "I could also hear the chaplains preaching courage. Their voices were the only thing that kept me going."

It is said that in the light of the fiery oil, the chaplains were seen standing arm in arm on the ship's deck, leading an interfaith service. Eighteen minutes after the torpedo hit, the Dorchester rolled into the Labrador Sea on its starboard side.

In the most published quote of the tragedy, survivor John Ladd called the chaplains' steadfastness as "the finest thing I have seen or hope to see this side of heaven."

It would be the third largest U.S. maritime loss during World War II: 672 men died on the Dorchester, most from hypothermia. Only 230 men saw the sun rise in Greenland.

When the nephew of Chaplain Fox, David Fox-Benton, interviewed Dorchester survivors in the 1990s, the ship's first sergeant, Michael Warish recalled of the four chaplains: "These men were always together. They carried their faith together. Remember, this was 1943. Protestants didn't talk to Catholics back then, let alone either of them talk to a Jew."

A Memorial Day eulogy 60 years later repeated the sentiment when it recalled the chaplains' act as "Despair caught in hope's grasp. Four chaplains. Two faiths. One God."

The chaplains were ineligible for the Medal of Honor since they were never under "direct fire." Therefore, Congress created a special medal in 1960 that praised the chaplains for their "selfless acts of courage, compassion and faith." The award was called the "Chaplain's Medal for Heroism," and it can never be awarded again.

Fortunately, I was never a candidate for such an award. Like most of today's combat veterans I came home from war on a chartered plane. So I tell this story today to honor those who didn't make it home on ships or planes.

Consider it a message from those of us who enjoyed our families' welcoming embrace to those families who never celebrated the joyous return of their loved one.

We pledge to you that we will always remember our heroes.

_____________________________________________

Contact Chaplain Norris at comment@thechaplain.net or 10566 Combie Rd.
Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or voicemail (843) 608-9715.

 

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New Column From Norris Burkes

Subject:
Immediate Press release


Column:

2019 Will Rogers Humanitarian Award Recipient
by Media Admin • May 16, 2019

By Robert L. Haught
Will Rogers Writers Foundation


Norris Burkes
Photo credit: Linda Smolek of "Inside Publications"
Retired Military Chaplain Norris Burkes, who writes a syndicated column that offers a hope-filled approach to everyday spirituality, is the recipient of the 2019 Will Rogers Humanitarian Award sponsored by the National Society of Newspaper Columnists.

Jennifer Rogers-Etcheverry, great grand-daughter of Will Rogers, will present the award Friday, June 21, at the dinner session of the NSNC conference in Buffalo, N.Y.

Burkes, of Auburn, CA, engages in work involving a variety of charitable causes and activities. A particular series of columns focuses on a humanitarian project, "Chispa," initiated by his daughter, Sara. Pronounced cheez-pah, meaning "spark" in Spanish, Chispa has a mission to help children in Honduras, Central America. The project sponsors children's libraries and equips them with quality books in Spanish by working side by side with community leaders and educators.

Chispa began in the summer of 2012 when Sara Burkes donated a small number of books to a tiny mountain school, then stayed to organize what became an undertaking with global reach.

In January 2018, Chaplain Burkes and his wife went to Honduras for three months and wrote about the experience in his column. He invited volunteers to join them and to donate support money. In March 2019, in his column, he rallied readers to travel with him to Honduras and about 12 volunteers from different states responded to his challenge to serve on a one-week mission trip to launch another library space. "The volunteers were people I had never met before," Burkes said. "We prepare and paint pretty space for the books, build bookshelves, pack the books, and train the teachers. We met all the students."

Over the past five years, the libraries have served over 60 local communities, offering more than 18,000 books to schoolchildren.

"My daughter reports that my column has directly raised about $30,000 over the last 3 years," Burkes said.

"We've given 18,000 books to over 50 schools and organizations."

Norris Burkes started writing his column, "Spirituality in Everyday Life,"on October 5, 2001, for Florida Today. He has written national columns for Gannett, and later GateHouse, and is now a self-syndicated columnist in about 35 newspapers.

He is a retired U.S. Air Force chaplain who served for 28 years, including time as a combat duty chaplain in Iraq. He wrote about that experience in "Hero's Highway."

Burkes has a BA in religion and journalism from Baylor University, Waco, Texas; a Master of Divinity degree from Golden Gate Seminary in Mill Valley, CA; and a Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing from Pacific University in Portland, OR.

He has run two marathons of 26 miles, completing the Air Force marathon in a little over five hours. In 2013, he took up golf, but says he is not yet to be trusted with keeping accurate score.

Burkes is a longtime member of the NSNC and has attended a number of conferences. He was a second-place winner in the 2010 column-writing contest.

 

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New Column From Norris Burkes

Subject:
Honored to share this announcement


Column:

2019 Will Rogers Humanitarian Award Recipient

By Robert L. Haught
Will Rogers Writers Foundation

Retired Military Chaplain Norris Burkes, who writes a syndicated column that offers a hope-filled approach to everyday spirituality, is the recipient of the 2019 Will Rogers Humanitarian Award sponsored by the National Society of Newspaper Columnists.

Jennifer Rogers-Etcheverry, great granddaughter of Will Rogers, will present the award Friday, June 21, at the dinner session of the NSNC conference in Buffalo, NY.


Burkes, of Auburn, CA, engages in work involving a variety of charitable causes and activities. A particular series of columns focuses on a humanitarian project, "Chispa," initiated by his daughter, Sara. Pronounced cheez-pah, meaning "spark" in Spanish, Chispa has a mission to help children in Honduras, Central America. The project sponsors children's libraries and equips them with quality books in Spanish by working side by side with community leaders and educators.

Chispa began in the summer of 2012 when Sara Burkes donated a small number of books to a tiny mountain school, then stayed to organize what became an undertaking with global reach.

In January 2018, Chaplain Burkes and his wife went to Honduras for three months and wrote about the experience in his column. He invited volunteers to join them and to donate support money. In March 2019, in his column, he rallied readers to travel with him to Honduras and about 12 volunteers from different states responded to his challenge to serve on a one-week mission trip to launch another library space. "The volunteers were people I had never met before," Burkes said. "We prepare and paint pretty space for the books, build bookshelves, pack the books, and train the teachers. We met all the students."

Over the past five years, the libraries have served over 60 local communities, offering more than 18,000 books to schoolchildren.

"My daughter reports that my column has directly raised about $30,000 over the last three years," Burkes said.

"We've given 18,000 books to over 50 schools and organizations."

Norris Burkes started writing his column, "Spirituality in Everyday Life," on October 5, 2001, for Florida Today. He has written national columns for Gannett, and later GateHouse, and is now a self-syndicated columnist in about 35 newspapers.

He is a retired U.S. Air Force chaplain who served for 28 years, including time as a combat duty chaplain in Iraq. He wrote about that experience in "Hero's Highway."

Burkes has a BA in religion and journalism from Baylor University, Waco, Texas; a Master of Divinity degree from Golden Gate Seminary in Mill Valley, CA; and a Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing from Pacific University in Portland, OR.

He has run two marathons of 26 miles, completing the Air Force marathon in a little over five hours. In 2013, he took up golf, but says he is not yet to be trusted with keeping accurate score.

Burkes is a longtime member of the NSNC and has attended a number of conferences. He was a second-place winner in the 2010 column-writing contest.

 

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New Column From Norris Burkes

Subject:
Correction and Photo


Column:

The column i sent today has one error in paragraph 10. "But thankfully, my daughter, who is far more compassionate that I..." should be "than I,"


Also, if you need a new column photo of me, please let me know and I'll send it.

 

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New Column From Norris Burkes

Subject:
Column for May 17-19


Column:

Points to Ponder Before You Spend Your Compassion Allowance

Compassion is among the finest of traits a person can demonstrate. But is it conceivable that somebody might have too much?

That is to say, is it possible that one can become overloaded with compassion and begin to drift into the lane of the ridiculous?

I think so.

I recently witnessed three incredulous examples of someone encumbered by their compassionate feelings.

The first moment came a few months ago at the Soto Cano Air Base in Honduras. I was there to solicit help for the Chispa Project, a nonprofit started by my daughter, Sara, to build children's libraries in Honduras.

We met a sergeant who was impressed with Chispa's compassion but disappointed to hear the Chispa compassion couldn't be extended to her striped friends.

"It's so sad that this base euthanizes skunks. Can you help me find a rescue for them?"

The idea of extending our mission to include something so far out of bounds is what military folks call "mission creep." To me, the answer was black-and-white so I quickly dismissed the suggestion as far too "creepy."

But thankfully, my daughter, who is far more compassionate that I, simply promised to "ask around."

On the second occasion, I was at a barbershop for a haircut when a spotted towhee flew into the window. The barber contacted an animal rescue organization who rehabilitated the bird and released it.

My wife loves towhees, so I deemed that effort "kinda nice."

But the one that really ruffled my feathers was a local effort to solicit compassion for a rescue kitten named Will. The feline has a hole in his heart, so a UC Davis vet student campaigned to successfully raise $8,000 for heart medication and surgery.

While you read this, I can picture those among you who are so sympathetic to living creatures that you wouldn't allow a grasshopper to die, much less a warm-blooded mammal. My brother-in-law, Ben Nuckolls, founded California Wildlife Encounters and accomplished over 500 rescues in 11 counties last year. He goes out for nearly everything, but last year he declined a sincere request to save – no kidding– a grasshopper.

With all the heartbreak I see as a hospice chaplain, it's easy for me to consider the above anecdotes as crossing the line from compassionate to unreasonable. Still, I try not to judge anyone who is expressing legitimate kindheartedness.

However, I can suggest some preliminary points to ponder before you spend your compassion allowance on what seems like a worthy cause.

First, check your motivation. Ask yourself if you're doing this to help the cause or to help you. Sometimes the answer can legitimately be both, but the scale should tip in favor of the charity you are serving.

Consider the ratio of your charitable support. For instance, if you are giving to help a single kitten, you should probably give a bit more regularly to aid your local zoo or animal shelter. Curtail your generosity for instances that offer only a temporary fix to a single situation.

Practice "charitable multitasking." That means don't limit your charity to a single cause. Divide your attention between causes that will support local, national and international efforts.

Contemplate your emotion. Sentiments play a critical piece to charitable giving, and pictures of kittens, kids and puppies can certainly overstimulate our emotions toward contributing. I learned this when my publisher pictured a little girl holding a teddy bear on the cover of my first book, "No Small Miracles."

Even the Chispa Project isn't above playing the cuteness card through the depiction of an adorable kid reading a book purchased by generous donations. But along with those pictures, legitimate charities, like Chispa, will offer honest solutions for real problems, not simply give you warm fuzzies.

Finally, I've often heard said in the military, "check your six." That means look behind you to see who is joining the cause. If you're the only one deploying for the skunk rescue, there's a fair chance you'll be overwhelmed by the stink.

-------------------------------------------------

Contact Norris at comment@thechaplain.net OR 10566 Combie Rd
Suite 6643 Auburn CA 95602 Voicemail at (843) 608-971
Read more at www.thechaplain.net. Learn more about Chispa at chispaproject.org/

 

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New Column From Norris Burkes

Subject:
Column postscript and Photo


Column:

IF you want a photo of Stucki getting a Purple Heart, please reply to me today by email.

If you have room for additional words, please add the following:


Stucki contacted me this week with these additional words.

Your story makes me sound better than than I remember being.

After I left Germany I spent a year getting 19 surgeries, 2 plates, 17 screws, and some really cool scars. I was able to remain in active service for a few more years then transitioned to the Army Reserve and went to work for Hopkinsville PD.

I still credit God for getting me through everything including some very difficult rehab. It is cool to see the hand of the Lord actively guiding events in my life, even in the blood and fire of combat. He continues to be there for me to this day as a police officer.

 

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New Column From Norris Burkes

Subject:
10-12 May 2019


Column:

A Grateful Soldier Reflecting on his Survival


In last week's column I promised to tell you the story of Army Sergeant Robert Stucki from Clarksville, Ky. I interviewed the sergeant for this column ten years ago when he was a patient — and I the chaplain — at the Air Force Field Hospital in Balad, Iraq.

Stucki, a member of the 194th Military Police Company from Fort Campbell, became a patient after he was hit leading a truck convoy out of Fallujah.

"I saw it coming," he said.

"What?" I asked.

"A parachute."

He held a finger at the corner of his eye to show me where he first noticed a teenager throwing an object off a balcony. The object made a long intentional arch toward him and deployed a ragged parachute.

His description reminded me of the parachutes I'd assembled from my mother's kitchen towels and kite strings. I'd attach a rock and, through trial and error, eventually find the right weight ratio to parachute surface that would bring the rock to a soft landing.

But the parachute coming for Stucki didn't have a rock. It held a Russian-made, armor-piercing hand grenade rather than a typical grenade which would be no match for the high-sided armored vehicle Stucki was commanding.

Stucki's steel-clad chariot was a Mine Resistant Ambush Protected vehicle, otherwise called the MRAP. The crew rides atop an elevated cabin with the bottom 3/4 of its height surrounded with thick, flat side armor. However, the soldiers love the MRAP best for what is underneath: a V-shaped hull that deflects roadside explosions originating below the vehicle, thereby greatly reducing passenger injuries.

Yet as our Intelligence Officer would tell me later, the boy wasn't aiming for the underside of the MRAP. The insurgent took personal aim at Stucki where the grenade's shaped charge would penetrate the window.

"I remember it looking like a welding arc," Stucki said, "shooting molten metal between my legs."

With a casted arm and leg, Stucki continued, "All I could think about was that we've been hit! I started yelling for my driver to push through. I was praying the whole way for my gunner and my driver to be OK."

Twenty minutes later, Stucki commanded the MRAP into his Battalion Aid station, twenty minutes by air from Balad. Only then, after Battalion Aid assured him that his crew suffered superficial injuries, did Stucki turn his attention to his own spiritual aid by requesting his Mormon Lay minister.

"I put my faith in the Lord," he told me. "I was just praying, 'Take care of my guys and help me with the pain.'" However, Stucki's injuries were serious enough for medics to transport him to our hospital. With helicopter rotors whirling a blend of sand and sweat, his minister administered a blessing just before takeoff.

Stucki described his injuries to me as being, "Minor compared to the potential of this attack."

"What kind of potential?" I asked.

The 15-year veteran looked away, rubbing his eyes.

"Let's just say that with this type of attack, our survival was a testament to God watching out for us."

As he worked for composure, Stucki explained how his crew had traded their vulnerable Humvee for the MRAP two days before the attack. He reasoned that the Humvee, with its soft undercarriage, would have been low hanging fruit to the most rookie of insurgents.

"By the grace of God, we were in the MRAP, and the molten steel passed between my legs." He glanced at his legs -- both intact. "All I need is a few surgeries with plates and screws."

Soon, his nurse came to the bedside and began pushing buttons and disconnecting wires. "You're going home a hero, Sergeant," she said.

His flight would be leaving for Germany in two hours. Then, in a few days, he'd fly home.

"Sounds like you'll be taking the last plane to Clarksville and be home for Mother's Day." I said.

The nurse groaned at my musical pun, but Stucki turned toward the nursing staff and gave his departing conclusion — "These guys are the real heroes!"

Stucki's story is excerpted from Norris' book "Hero's Highway." Contact Chaplain Norris at comment@thechaplain.net or 10566 Combie Rd.
Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or voicemail (843) 608-9715.

 

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