In California, a young girl woke up screaming in the night. “Uncle Tom!” she shouted. “He’s all bloody, his head is covered with blood!” The mother of the little girl, Tom’s cousin, called the Red Cross, but was unable to get any information. She was convinced that something had happened to Tom, but she also believed that he had survived. She sent him a telegram, giving him assurance that he would be all right. Meanwhile, an alert medic had discovered that Tom was still alive and had gotten him to a hospital.
After hearing the story, Kathy asked her father, “Was it ESP? Do you believe in Extra-Sensory Perception, Dad?” He answered, “I believe God found a way to let my family know I was all right. The message to my cousin’s little girl was God’s way of watching over me. I’ve been blessed, you know!”231
Tom Walsh was a man of faith. He chose to see the events in his life in a positive light and as evidence of God’s protection. His faith saw him through his trials and was an incalculable blessing to him and to his daughter.
Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.
June 14
The advance up the Italian peninsula was slow and grueling. Moving forward in the valleys was impossible as long as the enemy held the hills and mountains. Therefore, many battles raged at elevations above 4,000 feet, where winter conditions made the soldier’s lives almost unbearable. Keeping these men supplied with the basic necessities for staying alive and fighting was a nightmare in itself. Reminiscent of wars gone by, pack mules and horses were used to move supplies where vehicles couldn’t go. Even then, there was a point where the animals could climb no farther, and soldiers had to do the rest. On a typical night, a battalion fighting in the mountains needed eighty-five cans of water, one hundred cases of K rations, ten miles of telephone wire, twenty-five cases of ammunition, one hundred heavy mortar rounds, four cases of first-aid supplies, bags of mail, and countless other items.232
All this logistic activity took place at night, since most of it was under enemy observation and artillery fire. Guides were necessary along the route to keep the supply trains from getting lost in the dark. This duty fell, of necessity, on the combat soldiers. The men who shouldered this thankless task were an inspiration to one reporter:
Sickness and exhaustion overtook many… so they were sent back down the mountain under their own power to report to the medics there and then go to a rest camp. It took most of them the better part of a day to get two-thirds of the way down, so sore were their feet and so weary their muscles. And then when actually in sight of their haven of rest and peace they were stopped and pressed into guide service, because there just wasn’t anybody else to do it. So they stayed on the mountain-side for at least three additional days and nights… just lying miserably alongside the trail, shouting in the darkness to guide the mules. They had no blankets to keep them warm, no beds but the rocks. And they did it without complaining. The human spirit is an astounding thing.233
When they hurled insults at him, he did not retaliate; when he suffered, he made no threats. Instead, he entrusted himself to him who judges justly.
June 15
When he came out of the front lines for a brief rest, Richard Ternyey was recruited as a muleskinner. Mules had been found an effective way to move supplies in the rugged Italian mountains, usually at night. Ternyey soon met his mule, Jake. He and Jake had to deliver mortar ammunition to the front lines on a night so dark, “ You couldn’t see the hand in front of your face. ”234 After several hours of hard climbing they reached the forward dump and began unloading.
Suddenly German artillery shells started landing all around them, and everyone scattered in panic looking for holes or ruts to get away from the shrapnel. Ternyey described what happened then:
I started frantically searching in the darkness like a blind man for my mule. Everything was in turmoil, a lot of men screaming and yelling. I had no idea where I was. Finally, I found Jake. I didn’t have any idea which way to go to my base for fear that I may go the wrong way and be captured by the enemy. For some reason, I can’t explain, I thought maybe Jake will have the instinct of finding his way home. So I mounted him, gently patted him on the rump, and he took off. I was scared stiff and prayed that God Almighty will direct this mule back to home base. I finally reached my base safe and sound.235
There are times when we have to give up control. This soldier had little choice but to rely on his mule’s instinct. As we face our daily problems, however, we usually do have a choice, and most of us go to great lengths to keep control in our own hands. We are programmed early to “be responsible” and to take care of our own problems. These are admirable traits, but when taken too far interfere with a relationship to God. Our heavenly Father waits for us to come to him. We miss an opportunity when we fail to share our burdens. When we let him take control in the midst of our confusion or uncertainty, we are in the sure hands that will always get us back to “home base.”
There you saw how the Lord your God carried you, as a father carries his son, all the way you went until you reached this place.
June 16
Bicky Kiessel wrote to his uncle, a World War I veteran, about his experiences in the Italian campaign. He said, “I’ve been bombed, strafed, shelled, chased by tanks, sniped at, machine gunned and everything imaginable and some not. I got knocked about, bruised and scraped but never directly hit.”236 He saw a lot of action, but found some of his most difficult times waiting and thinking:
The idle period of waiting is nerve wracking. Everything is ready, there is just the period of absolutely nothing to do…You think a lot about the past. People you know or knew and last associations, of home, though not about big things but a lot of silly little trifles or remembrances pop into mind and if you were to stop and figure out “why?” you probably would never know. Thoughts that are precious, moments unreturnable flash past. We are different men since we have been fighting. To a great extent, unfortunately, we have lost our sensitiveness, there is a cold calculating air. We have gone through and experienced what men should not. But at times like these we are
