Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: Pastor (11/30/06)
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TITLE: Promotion to Padre | Previous Challenge Entry
By Rick DeMille
12/05/06 -
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Sergeant Torres gasped in pain and looked around, comparing this world of beige and tan to the verdant green of Camp Pendleton and California. In school he’d learned this slice of Iraq was called the Fertile Crescent - he’d be sure and ask Ms. Frazier about that if he got the chance. All signs of fertility were long departed; the remote firebase manned by Torres and the other Marines guarded a wasteland.
Torres did see one color, clashing stridently with the brown of parched brush and the desert camouflage pattern of his uniform. Red was once his favorite color, but seven months of combat changed that forever. The red stream flowing from his leg finally slowed to a trickle. It had soaked through the field dressing and dripped relentlessly into the sand which swallowed it mercilessly, transforming living red into just another shade of moist brown.
He coughed and rubbed his eyes, then coughed again to clear his lungs of the fine blowing sand now mixed with the acrid stench of burning canvas and rubber. An explosion rocked him as ammunition exploded in his burning Humvee near by. Beck, in the point vehicle, had spotted the buried artillery shell and stopped before they reached it, but that only made their three vehicle patrol a better target for grenades.
Johnson commanded the rear vehicle. He pulled immediately behind a low dune to the left. His 50 caliber machine gun now shuddered and growled fiercely over the top of a dune, while Beck bounced furiously through the desert to flank the attackers to the right.
Torres felt pride in his squad, as always. They reacted like the professionals they were. He grabbed his M-16 and crawled painfully to where he could join them in this dance of smoke and fire, but slumped as he realized it was over. The SuperCobra helicopters thundered in from the east, monster dragonflies eager to avenge the assault on their comrades. Lieutenant Park and the relief vehicles left the snake of brown dust on the road and hurled themselves into the sand toward the attackers
White cloth appeared like submissive tufts of cotton in the desert before them. Marines moved warily to disarm the enemy while the trail Humvee skidded to a halt behind its smoldering twin. Their Navy Corpsman hopped out and sprinted toward Torres, his bag swinging wildly in his hand.
Doc Finley dropped to his knees, skidding to a halt next to him in the sand. “Shi . . . shoot, Padre, where you hit?”
Finley knew better than to swear in front of Torres. At first, Sergeant Torres hated being called Padre, but finally accepted the title. The term ‘Padre’ had been a part of the Corps since anyone could remember. Normally it referred to a chaplain, of what ever faith, but they gave him the label when he started Sunday services and Bible study in their firebase.
They met every Sunday and Wednesday, holding meetings around patrol schedules and incoming mortar fire. The group started with six steadfast souls, and now over half the personnel at the firebase attended. Some came for the diversion, but Torres knew that many of them had truly welcomed Christ into their lives.
Finley changed the dressing. “Med-evac’s almost here, this little scratch means home for you.”
He was feeling light headed from loss of blood, but with a sudden shock Torres realized he WOULD be sent home. He bolted up and craned his neck, but Lance-Corporal Johnson was already off his vehicle, running towards them. Johnson was a truly immense Marine, large enough to generate his own weather patterns. He would take over the squad now, but Torres needed to make a more important promotion first. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a handful of folded papers.
“Here, my lesson for Sunday,” he rasped. “Keep the group going while I’m gone.”
Johnson hesitantly took the papers, and the responsibility for their little flock. Torres knew that humility and faith would make the Corporal a great Padre. Comforted, he finally slipped into darkness as they loaded him onto a stretcher.
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