Stories of Faith and Courage from the War in Iraq and Afghanistan

by Jane Hampton Cook

  July 28

  THIS IS IT

  Capt. Tom Joyce, U.S. Navy (Ret.)

  I’ve got to clear my head, I thought as I stared out my office window toward Arlington National Cemetery. I had watched the news until I could no longer watch the replays. Now it was time to think.

  We knew there would be other attacks. We were up there on the fifth floor, most likely in harm’s way, but what do we do? We don’t leave our post. We continue to do our job and see who needs help. All the admirals who worked at our office were gone for a meeting, which made me the senior guy in my office. I wasn’t about to run away and seek my own protection.

  I called my wife, Deshua, who was teaching at the time and told her what was going on. “You might want to let the principal of the school know,” I told her. “And people should start praying.”

  Turning back to the window, I tried to focus my thoughts on what might happen and what our responses should be in various scenarios. I didn’t need to imagine the possibilities for long.

  Moments later I saw the fireball coming toward the window.

  This is it, I thought. I watched a big bright light rushing toward me and thought it was a bomb. It happened all at once, but at the same time everything seemed to slow down. And while one eye was focused on the fireball, my right eye was focused on a bag of Doritos I had put on my desk to eat later. I was watching this fireball thinking, I’m about to die, and looking at the Doritos thinking, I guess I’m never going to eat those. Then, before I knew it, the floor buckled, lifted me up, and threw me back. The plane had hit the building directly beneath me.

  Prayer:

  Lord, give me the courage to be where you’ve placed me, even if that means being vulnerable to any kind of attack or inconvenience.

  “My times are in your hands; deliver me from my enemies and from those who pursue me.” (Psalm 31:15)

  July 29

  THE WORLD JUST CHANGED

  Capt. Tom Joyce, U.S. Navy (Ret.)

  I scrambled to my feet and grabbed another guy. “You and I are going to be the last ones out of here,” I told him. “We have to make sure we get everybody out.”

  There were about one hundred people in our office to evacuate. Some we dragged out, some were carried out. The pressure from the explosion blew cinder blocks across the office, hitting some people squarely, splitting their heads wide open. We knew we had to get them to first aid pretty quickly.

  By that time the fire was starting to consume our office. We picked our way across the floor on hands and knees through debris and glass to stay beneath the thick black smoke. Someone pointed out, “That’s got to be aviation fuel, look at the way it’s burning.” We were all aviators, so that’s when we realized it was a plane that had hit us.

  Meanwhile, an intelligence officer from my office had been in the Navy Operations Center on the first floor directly below us calling up information to us when the plane hit, instantly killing forty-two people and blowing this officer completely out of the C-ring where he had been. He went back into the fire four times to pull four people out. He saved their lives. So many different people responded with acts of heroism that day.

  Back upstairs on the fifth floor, our time was running out. The area we were in was completely on fire, which turned all the exits into dead ends. We were walking down the escalators (all power had been knocked out), and ended up finding an exit on the other side of the building completely on the other end of the world, we used to say. It took us the better part of forty-five minutes to get out of the building.

  As one can imagine at the Pentagon, there was no problem with people taking charge. But other than those that were giving specific directions, nobody else spoke as we filed out. It was silent and really eerie. Everybody knew the world had just changed.

  Prayer:

  Lord, as the world changes and leaves me with nothing to rely upon, may I constantly come back to you for guidance.

  “Since you are my rock and my fortress, for the sake of your name lead and guide me.” (Psalm 31:3)

  July 30

  CHAOS

  Capt. Tom Joyce, U.S. Navy (Ret.)

  Once we got outside, many of us broke into a dead sprint to get to the other side of the Pentagon to see who else we could pull out of the building. We didn’t know the first responders were already there all we knew was that a large number of people were hurt. We could hear them yelling and moaning, but we couldn’t get to them because of the fire. It was chaos. And we didn’t think it was over.

  Is the same thing going on at the White House? My mind raced. What other facilities have been attacked? What about my family? If these people are doing this to innocent people on airplanes, they could be setting down nuclear weapons right where my family is.

  Nobody could reach anybody. Most of the phone circuits were overloaded, even for cell phones. My oldest daughter saw the news in her high school classroom and thought for sure I was dead. It was two to three hours before I was able to connect with my family.

  An hour later, we were told there was another plane inbound Flight 93 that crashed in Shanksville, Pennsylvania. So they had us all scurry away and take cover under the overpass on Interstate 395 for awhile. Every couple minutes, F-16s flew about fifty feet over the Pentagon.

  Finally somebody told everyone to go home, watch the news, and be ready to report back to work tomorrow. Nobody could get in and out of the parking lot, so fifteen thousand of us walked on the shoulders of I-395. Many cars coming out of Washington pulled over and offered rides.

  The fellow who helped me evacuate our office and I were picked up by two guys. When Dan Rather said something on the radio about “crazy Islamic fundamentalists,” these two guys started yelling at the radio in Arabic, pounding on the dashboard, swearing out the window.

  What in the world did we get ourselves into? we thought. We quickly jumped out of the car in the slow-moving traffic and walked to a subway station. Two hours after I had left the Pentagon, I finally made it home.

  Prayer:

  Lord, when things don’t make sense, help me keep my focus on you.

  “When I am afraid, I will trust in you.” (Psalm 56:3)

  July 31

  WHAT NOW?

  Capt. Tom Joyce, U.S. Navy (Ret.)

  “I know what you’ve been through today, Tom, but one of our men has been reported missing.” It was one of the pastors at the church where I served as an elder calling me that evening. “We think he’s gone. Will you come with me? I want you to break the news to the family.”

  I knew exactly where this man’s office was. I saw that wreckage, and there’s no way he would have made it. We checked all the hospitals to be sure, but I wasn’t surprised to learn he wasn’t at any of them.

  Sharing the news with his wife, fifteen-year-old daughter, and eleven-year-old son was the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to do. I still see the daughter’s eyes periodically when I wake up at night. Who’s going to walk me down the aisle? they seemed to say. Who’s going to interview my prom date?

  Completely exhausted emotionally and physically, I returned home that night around 10 p.m. When my oldest son Ryan, a junior in high school, saw me, he jumped up out of his seat, and threw his arms around me.

  “Dad, I’m so thankful that God spared your life today,” he said.

  After a few minutes, he dropped his arms, stepped back, and looked at me. “Dad, I gotta ask you a question. For some reason God spared your life today at the Pentagon. What are you going to do now with the rest of your life?” He repeated the question, said “I love you Dad,” went upstairs and went to bed.

  It was the most penetrating question anyone’s ever asked me. It was just like God said to Ryan, “Challenge your dad and go to bed.” It was that clear.

  September 11, 2001, was a wake-up call for me. I had already been considering going into ministry after retirement, and on that day, I felt like God was saying, I want you to make a decision. I spared your life. I want you to do something a
little more valuable with it.

  Two weeks after my Navy retirement ceremony in 2003, I was sitting at a desk at Immanuel Bible Church as the new Pastor of Discipleship and Family.

  Prayer:

  Lord, help me fulfill your purpose for me in a way that honors you.

  “I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling you have received.” (Ephesians 4:1)

  August 1

  FILLING UP

  Cdr. Mark D. Waddell, SEAL, U.S. Navy, Iraq (2003–2006)

  March 19, 2003, Iraqi Border. It was the first day of the invasion, and Navy SEAL Commander Mark Waddell was outfitted in his chemical suit and armed with chemical/biological/nuclear gear in anticipation of a possible chemical attack.

  “You know,” he told another officer who was with him, “today is also my birthday…” The conversation stopped cold when the night sky lit up from a Marine Corps CH-46 helicopter exploding. The helicopter was carrying some British troops into combat, and they were all killed instantly.

  “And that’s the way I started my birthday that year with the rocket that the Iraqis were shooting at us,” remembered Waddell. “They sounded like big jets flying over our heads, and chemical alarms were sounding, and it was very confusing in the fog of combat as we were attacking them.”

  This was not the first time the twenty-year combat veteran had witnessed a violent end to human life, but it would prove to be the start of a year that would overwhelm him. “My life was full of seeing human tragedy,” he explained. “So in 2003 there was more human tragedy, there were more people killed, there were more uncertainties, there were more paradox situations that I had to deal with, and very intense emotional trauma. I was just full.”

  Waddell and his wife, Marshele Carter Waddell, compare the experience to a scene in the film Titanic where a handful of men are arguing about whether the ship would sustain the blow or sink. “And then the engineer steps forwards and says, ‘If only three or four compartments had been affected, we would be okay. But it has spilled over into a fifth compartment, and she will sink.’ And that jumped out at me; that was my husband. Too many compartments had been affected and filled up, and therefore the weight was going to pull him down,” said Marshele.

  Prayer:

  Lord, when I begin sinking, lift me up with your mighty hand.

  “O LORD, the God who saves me, day and night I cry out before you…. for my soul is full of trouble.” (Psalm 88:1, 3a)

  August 2

  VACATION BACKFIRE

  Marshele Carter Waddell, author of Hope for the Home Front and co-author of When War Comes Home: Christ-Centered Healing for Wives of Combat Veterans

  When Mark came home from his first combat deployment in Iraq in early May 2003, Marshele and their three children were ready. Before his homecoming, Marshele had picked up free tickets to Disney World that had been offered specifically for military families as a way to “support the troops” and show appreciation for their service.

  “Subsequently I made these plans so when he arrived home we could go to Orlando and enjoy Disney World to honor him and have fun as a family,” said Marshele. “And it turned out that that was probably the worst place we could have gone.”

  The crowds pressed in around them. Giant Disney characters got in their faces. The air was thick with the explosions of fireworks and the screams of people on rides.

  “That whole trip was awful,” said Marshele. “It was awful for me. It was awful for the kids. That was one of the first times I could tell that something had changed for Mark.”

  Normally, Mark and the entire family would have enjoyed this type of vacation as a chance to escape daily routines and concerns and bond with each other while making special memories. But this was not a normal time for Mark. He was miserable.

  He was having physiological responses to the sites, the sounds, and the smells around him. He was in a sweat all the time. His heart raced, and he fought to keep panic at bay. The kids were all excited about being there, but he was so consumed with his reactions to his surroundings that he couldn’t engage with them like he wanted.

  “He was trying desperately to have fun,” said Marshele. “But he was exhausted. He didn’t need Disney World. He needed something much different.”

  Prayer:

  Lord, supply us with that which we truly need; you’re the only one who can.

  “My eyes are dim with grief. I call to you, O LORD, every day; I spread out my hands to you.” (Psalm 88:9)

  August 3

  THE END OF ME

  Marshele Carter Waddell, author of Hope for the Home Front and co-author of When War Comes Home: Christ-Centered Healing for Wives of Combat Veterans

  After leaving the chaos of Disney World, things didn’t get much better for the Waddells. In fact, things got worse.

  “Everything was hard,” said Marshele. “Everything was difficult because Mark was no longer Mark. About one year later I reached a breaking point where I went through a lot of different emotions confusion, anger, guilt. I had the feeling that maybe this was my fault. Maybe I wasn’t being a good enough wife. Maybe if I took on more responsibility around the house. Maybe if I did everything for Mark and kept his world balanced then he would get past whatever it was he was in.”

  By this time, Mark had assumed the position of Director of Operations for all the East Coast SEAL teams, which meant several trips back and forth overseas, in and out of combat zones. Even when Mark was home, he was busy training and preparing himself and others to deploy again. So without a sustained amount of time to really address the problem, the situation could not improve.

  “When the men come home whether it’s for two weeks of rest and relaxation and going back to the war front or maybe they’re coming home for six months they’re trying to avoid the conflict,” said Marshele. “They’re trying to reconnect and have a life. Spouses don’t have time to address these huge problems or even avoid them. A year after Mark had come home in May 2003, I had reached the end of me.”

  As a veteran military wife, Marshele had been able to categorize and file away everything for awhile, but she got to a point where she couldn’t do it any more. “I was saturated with what had been our military life experience. I told him that whether he went with me or not, I needed counseling. I had to go find somebody objective that could tell me I wasn’t going insane.”

  Prayer:

  Lord, help me surround myself with people who will speak truth and wisdom to me.

  “My soul is in anguish. How long, O LORD, how long?” (Psalm 6:3)

  August 4

  SECRET STRUGGLE

  Cdr. Mark D. Waddell, SEAL, U.S. Navy, Iraq (2003–2006)

  While the Waddell family felt like they were crumbling on the inside, on the outside, they still seemed picture perfect. Yellow ribbons hugged the trees in their yard and flags waved proudly overhead. Friends of their high school son were in and out of the house all the time. There was no indication that anything was wrong and that’s the way Mark wanted it.

  “I was kind of glad Marshele got counseling if that’s what she needed, but then I was also a little worried about my career if people found out,” said Mark. “We had been a community pillar of strength and faith, and I didn’t want to show that our faith had been shaken or that we were at risk as a couple, because it would have made a farce of everything we had said and stood for.”

  As an officer in special operations, Mark’s response to the nagging sense that something was wrong was to just carry on.

  “[SEALS are] used to suffering,” said Mark. “We’re used to enduring and doing without.” So alone, Mark dealt with nightmares, emotional numbness, distressing and vivid daytime flashbacks. He saved his tears for when he was alone.

  About a year and a half after Marshele started counseling, Mark admitted that he needed help, also. But he didn’t want to talk about it with Marshele; he just wanted her to know that he recognized there was a problem that he was struggling with and needed help.

  “
I saw my marriage unraveling,” said Mark. And then I thought to myself, All this sacrifice and I’m about ready to be here on earth with nothing left. My wife, my children, and everything I had fought for and was willing to die for I was about to lose because of my response to the people that I was supposed to love.

  “Is there anything that you wouldn’t do to save our marriage?” Marshele asked him.

  “I would do anything,” Mark responded.

  “Would you go talk to a doctor? Would you just go see your doctor?”

  Prayer:

  Lord, when life seems to fall apart around me, speak to my heart and create in me a steadfast spirit to wait upon you.

  “Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.” (Psalm 51:10)

  August 5

  I WAS ONE OF THEM

  Cdr. Mark D. Waddell, SEAL, U.S. Navy, Iraq (2003–2006)

  When Mark decided to talk to a doctor, he chose one with whom he had already developed a deep respect for: Dr. Dan Sutton, a SEAL team doctor, a regular physician. When there was a mass casualty in Afghanistan, the largest loss of SEAL life in history, Dr. Sutton and Mark were intimately involved when the bodies were brought back through Dover, and their remains returned to the families.

  “Doc Sutton went to Dover and was with everybody that returned,” said Mark. “As a result he more fully understood what combat stress was all about he knew the symptoms of post-traumatic stress and its disorder.”

  Mark was also watching people coming back, including the wounded, the remains, and those who had no visible injuries to their bodies. “I understood that there were post-traumatic symptoms going on within the field community and with the guys returning from combat,” said Mark. “There were just an incredible number of deaths that happened in Afghanistan. The smells of rotted flesh still clung to the equipment that came back.”